Last night in Phantom St. Norbert

C’est ma derniere nuit dans le St. Norbert qui n’est pas le St. Norbert de naissance de ma grandmere. I simply love it here. I feel like this place was created for me. Organic farms, farmland as far as you can possibly see, fragrance everywhere – flowers, plants, sun. Old quebecoise farmhouses. French speakers/non-english speakers abound. That is, I’m *forced* to speak French, which is exactly what I want. Everyone speaks at least a few words of English, but many speak only that, less than my French, so this is perfect.

I’m less intimidated speaking French here than in Montreal or Paris, because there, people can easily have an attitude about it, simply, I think, because it’s a city, and people in cities have attitudes.

I rode the Louise and Francine’s (the owners of l’auberge) bike again today, this time to Berthierville. Took the small roads, and then a not so small road. There’s a pretty river with old houses there. I took lots and lots of photos on my ride home. There are many houses here that have HUGE crosses on their front lawns. It’s so interesting. It doesn’t seem, however, nearly as gaudy or in-your-face as something evangelicals would do/say, even though I’ve never seen something like this before. It seems like simply something that is, and that was created way back (these houses are older), in a time when that’s simply what people did. I then took my car to Joliette, another city about 30 km from here. It was a medium-sized city, with some nice areas, and some depressed areas. I spoke for quite a while with a woman who lives in the mountains about 20 minutes north of there, and said I should definitely visit there. She barely spoke English, so that was good for me. She was cool, like many of the people I’ve met here – artistic, of the earth, invested in things natural, organic. She was funky too.

There’s a French family staying here. They’re from Bretagne. They are just lovely. It makes me sad, nostalgic for a time when things could have been different for me as a child. These parents are so clearly happy, in love, and the children have no apparent hostilities toward them at all. The teenaged daughter is gorgeous, incredibly smart, well-spoken, educated, just lovely. Their interests are attended to and observed. For me growing up, we were simply fed and attended to in an emergency. Our interests weren’t noticed, much less cultivated. My parents felt their job was done if they simply met our basic physical needs. These people provide so much richer an experience for their kids. The kids will be better people because of it, I think. Better adjusted, educated, better citizens. I do truly believe this. When people are raised like I was raised, it takes everything to just keep on track in some basic human way. So much energy goes into tending to humungous gaps that were left behind; whereas for these kids, those gaps won’t be there, and they can continue on a higher path of development. This is very clear in my mind, and is why I feel firmly that one ought never have a child if they don’t know for certain that they will support their children openly, love them openly, attend to them physically, emotionally, mentally, etc. as best they can for as long as they are dependants. Anything less is neglect.

I’m very sad this is my last night. Very sad. I feel like I found a part of me, and so soon after, an instant after, I have to leave it behind. It’ll soon feel as if I never discovered it at all, I fear.

I also fear that my grandmother’s ‘real’ town will be a dump. This will depress me. Vraiment. In any case, I can know that this is her land, her country, her region. And it’s just astonishingly beautiful.

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