Par-laying the Fran-say

It’s been two months since I began my job here in Québec City, and the process of transition has been smoother than almost any of my previous moves. Although experience has definitely played a role in simplifying the adjustment, it also helps that I am moving within my own country. Not only is my new home within a day’s drive of Anglophone Canada in either direction, it’s also still in Canada. The differences of language and culture are definitely significant, but most little things are familiar – I still buy the same brand of pasta, collect the same grocery points, use the same bank, and watch the same sports. Autumn sets in just as quickly, and people complain about the temperature almost as much (admittedly, Haligonians have more to complain about).

The most obvious and defining difference in Québec is language, of course. I last studied French in high school almost (gasp!) a decade ago. Since then, I’ve confused myself by studying German and Spanish, becoming almost fluent in Spanish after being immersed in it for a school year. I also threw in a bit of Dutch, Kiwi English, and urban planner-ese for good measure. Suffice to say, my limited French resources were buried deep in cobweb-ridden parts of my brain, probably next to the names of elementary school classmates who moved away and my lacrosse skills.

But I had hope! Anglophones have fearfully referred me to the fact that 2 out of 3 Québec City residents do not speak English, but I prefer to see it as a glass 1/3 full. After all, some of my Odyssey colleagues have been placed in towns where the English glass is only about 1/100 full, so I’m rather lucky. The balance of languages here means I can practice French all the time if I want, but I am not obligated to. Store clerks are usually able to switch to English, and servers frequently offer a choice between the two languages; some will even ask if you’re learning French to give you the opportunity to practice.

That said, I usually make the effort to speak French when I’m out and about. It’s mostly for fear of being rude that I won’t ask people if they speak English; instead, I steamroller ahead in poorly-pronounced French until they decide to switch over. And the more I try French, the less necessary English becomes. My comprehension is still pretty weak, so I’m not shooting the breeze with any strangers, but I can usually get what I need (a library card, for example). I’m pretty impressed with how far I’ve come in two months, given that I’m basically building from French 2 in high school, my knowledge of Spanish, and my experience reading food labels in two languages over the past 8 years.*

I have also come to a couple important realizations lately. Firstly, Québec French is not my high school textbook’s French. It’s not even uniform across the province. Pronunciations are weird. English words appear at unexpected times. There are even phrases made up of English words that are not phrases in English, but work as such in Québec French. The other day I heard a francophone telling a story that included the words “bye bye, Charlie Brown” as if they had some agreed-upon meaning. I’m sure it does to him, but I’ve never heard it in English.

Secondly, I’ve realized that French as a whole is not easy. Growing up speaking English, all I heard from language teachers was how complicated English is and how every other language followed its rules more closely and oh, weren’t we lucky that we learned the hardest of all languages as our first…bull. French has as many exceptions, weird expressions, and strange rules as English. You can tell by the number of times I’ve asked people to explain various things and heard “I guess we just say it that way” in response (that almost never happened in Spain).

These realizations have been extremely liberating when it comes to trying out my French in public. Did I just say that wrong, or is this language just weird? Did I just put the emphasis on the wrong syllable, or am I just speaking with a Parisian accent? Did I just cheat by using an English word, or is it one that Quebeckers use too?

Who knows? At least I have a library card now.

Traffic calming for bicycles near my new place. You can take the nerd out of planning school, but you can't...

The first time I've had an office with my name on it!

The dunes near Tadoussac.

*When my French roommate asked what was in the clam chowder I made, I quickly dove into the recycling bin for the empty can of clams and said, “uhhh….palourdes.”     

A Wet Tinder Box

I have been in Québec City for just over a day now (after having visited in July to find housing). Given that my training begins tomorrow, I thought it would be wise to give an idea of my expectations before getting too immersed in my new surroundings.

For those unfamiliar with the province of Québec, a brief introduction: Québec was originally a French colony and developed alongside the British colonies that also became Canada. After the Seven Years’ War, France was deprived of almost all its territories in North America. This change in power left a sizable group of French-speaking settlers under the rule of a British monarch, a situation that has caused no shortage of friction. The challenge of accommodating the English and French cultures in one country has been a defining element of Canada’s identity. Until the mid-20^th century, it’s fair to say that Anglophone Canada had the upper hand in many ways, even in French-speaking Québec. The Quiet Revolution of the 1960s and 1970s led to dramatic change in the province and across the country, as Canada became officially bilingual and the Québec independence movement rose to prominence.* The debate over independence and language rights continues today.

My interest in living in Québec began as a curiosity during my time in Halifax. Although I’d visited Montréal and Québec City in the past, moving from my parents’ house in Ontario to the Maritimes necessitated a long drive across Québec. Once in Halifax, studying for a professional degree accredited across Canada, I couldn’t help noticing how little we spoke about the role of our profession in Québec.** The language barrier was obviously a challenge for many of us; interpreting policy written in English is challenging enough.

The lack of Québec-related material that I perceived in my Master’s programme drew my attention to the way Canadians outside the province appear to think about it. The first thing many Canadians seem to think about Québec is the independence movement. The second thing they seem to think about is the independence movement. Beyond that, they might have something to say about the province’s strange language laws or highlights from their trips to Montréal, Québec City or Mont-Tremblant. I know Anglophones who have spent time in other parts of the province, often on language immersion courses, but they’re unusual (some of them are unusual for other reasons – they know who they are).

Beyond indifference or inexperience, there is significant hostility about the language issue among Anglophone Canadians. I would guess the same is true of Francophone Canadians, but I have no evidence to back that up. When discussing my plans to move to Québec, I was frequently warned that Francophones would be unwilling to speak English and unpleasant to those who did (though the warnings were often phrased in harsher terms). I was even warned against going to specific areas because of the prevalence of indépendantiste ideas.

Maybe fear and resentment are the other side of mutually accommodating two languages in one country. But as I mentioned above, bilingualism is part of Canadian identity whether we acknowledge it or not. When people from elsewhere learn that I’m Canadian, they frequently follow up with “French or English?”*** I don’t necessarily feel the need to become fluent in French or start celebrating St-Jean-Baptiste Day every year, but that question makes me think about how little I know about French Canada. I’m curious to know what makes it tick, so for the next nine months, I’ll be ticking along with it.     

Les Chutes de Montmorency, north of Quebec City

Le Chateau Frontenac, probably Quebec City's most recognizable building

Quebec's provincial parliament - sorry - national assembly

The skyline from too far away

  

*A bit shocking in a country known for its politeness and its commitment to “peace, order and good governance,” this era also unfortunately produced Canada’s very own domestic terrorist organization, the FLQ.

**For the record, I remember talking about Montréal’s two-way bike lanes; the design of multi-story townhouses in Montréal with spiral staircases that connect each level to the sidewalk (they have those in Québec City, too); and the Route Verte.    

***They also ask, “so how do Canadians get along with Americans?,” and the conversation really gets going when they find out my other nationality.

Goin' Out Wherever

After 6 years of university education, I’ve realized that most people only read the abstracts. So here’s one for this post (read on for more detail):

Having completed my Masters degree in planning, I have decided not to pursue jobs in the field immediately and instead to resume my pattern of traveling and working in various places that interest me. In the words of Tom Waits, “I’m gonna do what I want and I’m gonna get paid.” In September, I will begin an ESL teaching position just outside Quebec City.

As my previous post indicated, the completion of my Masters degree has put me in a rather contemplative mood. For months now, I’ve been debating the merits of the various options available to me and deciding that they were all roughly equal, like the roads leading to the Arc de Triomphe.

An obvious choice would be to pursue a job in planning, as that is what I have just spent two years studying. Although many of these jobs would have competitive hiring processes, graduates of my program do tend to get hired somewhere eventually. I could make more money starting out in planning than I ever have before. But in all honesty, although the idea of being qualified for a specific job was something that attracted me to the program, I never thought about going straight into a career-track job right after graduating. I guess I just thought it would be nice to be qualified in a field that I thought was interesting. And now I am, somewhat. Mission accomplished.

Of course, I considered looking for a planning job, but a number of concerns led me elsewhere. Discussions about these concerns turned into fairly long-winded rants several times in the past few months, so I’ll try to spare the internet what I couldn’t hold back in conversation (and to all those who listened, thanks). In a nutshell: I’m not eager to work a desk job; I’m not sure I even want a career in planning; and I am sure that there are still places I want to explore. It makes no sense to me to put off those travel ideas to pursue something I’m not sure I want.

My reasoning was not only negative. I have always felt a sense of accomplishment and personal growth from my experiences overseas. Some people, I think, are happy because of the familiarity of their surroundings; I certainly was when I was growing up. But the experiences I’ve had in my 20s (and late teens) have made me genuinely happy, diverse and disconnected as they have been. And the mental checklist of places I want to go has only expanded as I’ve spent the last two years at the same address.

My immediate plan is to spend this summer living with my parents in North Bay, ON. I owe them more than I’ll ever realize, and I figure the best way I can show my appreciation is by spending some time with them before I run off again. The gorgeous location with free room and board is a pretty great enticement too.

Summer in North Bay ain't bad.

My next adventure will not take me far away, either. Through the Odyssey program, I have accepted a job as an ESL teaching assistant at a CEGEP in Sainte-Foy, Quebec, just outside Quebec City. The Odyssey program is fairly similar to the one I did in Spain, with part-time teaching hours and enough pay to comfortably break even. This position will give me the chance to experience working with older students while becoming acquainted with life in la belle province (it’s on that mental checklist I mentioned).      

And after that, we'll see.

"And what do you do?"
"We're adventurers, sir, currently pursuing a certain opportunity but open to others as well."

Seriously, What Now?

The crossroads I am currently at may be the greatest of my life. Not “greatest” meaning “best” or “most important,” but “greatest” meaning “largest.” Large enough, I think, to justify a pretty big metaphor.

In the past, I have usually had to choose my next step after completing some kind of milestone, such as a degree or a contract. Most of those times, I had a pretty good idea of what I wanted to do next. When I finished high school, for instance, there was very little chance I was going anywhere other than university. When I finished university, I knew I wanted to go to both Spain and New Zealand; when I’d done the first, I knew I was going to the next as soon as possible.

Those intersections were a bit like the one described in the only Robert Frost poem I can quote, the one about two roads diverging in a wood. I wouldn’t like to claim that I’ve always taken the road less traveled by, because that would mean I’d be ending a sentence with a preposition. And also it’s not true. I do think, however, that the roads available to me have always been distinct from one another, and that I have always had a clear preference. When I chose to go to New Zealand, for instance, I knew that if I didn’t go, I would always be looking for a chance to do so in the future. So I went, and it “made all the difference.”

Now, having completed my Master’s degree, I’m at another crossroads. For a variety of reasons, this one feels less like a choice between paths in the woods and more like deciding where to go from the Arc de Triomphe in Paris.

The Arc de Triomphe stands in the middle of a roundabout/rotary that connects 12 – count ‘em – 12 different streets. Paris was heavily rebuilt in the 1800s (thank you, planning education), meaning each tree-lined street has similarly gorgeous architecture. Although the Champs-Elysées is wider than the others, all the options look pretty good and relatively similar at first glance.  

Part of me wishes I was back in the woods, choosing between a few dirt paths. But if my current situation is like standing on top of the Arc de Triomphe, I can consider myself pretty lucky. 

Me standing on top of the Arc de Triomphe, more youthful and less metaphorical. 

   

What Now?

My last post left off at the beginning of the final semester of my Master’s degree. I spent my Christmas break getting acquainted with my nephew, who is an absolute delight to be around. So much so that I’m off to visit him and his parents tomorrow; now that I’m done studying, it’s time to start uncling (for a week).  

The final semester’s focus was a team project; my group’s task was to design a conservation subdivision in New Brunswick. I was pleased to find that the originator of the conservation subdivision concept did much of his early work in my first home, the Pioneer Valley of Massachusetts. His name is Randall Arendt, if anyone wants to look him up.

One of my major commitments early in the semester was arranging the international field trip to the exotic destinations of Boston and New York. You may have heard that Boston had quite a winter (Halifax did too); we were lucky enough to arrive on a day when it did not snow, but had a day’s itinerary cancelled due to a blizzard. Our time in New York was longer and had a more substantial itinerary that was not interrupted by weather. As much as I get tired of hearing how great NewYork is, I enjoyed my first bona fide exploration of the city that never sleeps (I did sleep, though). I also managed to pepper the entire trip with encounters with friends I hadn't seen in years, a pleasant addition for me.

  

In addition to school, I kept busy by captaining the first organized basketball team I’ve played on since I was 16. Although we only won one game by the score on the scoreboard, our team’s enthusiasm earned us several forfeit victories just for showing up when the other team didn’t. I also played on a European handball team (just handball for Europeans reading this) and quickly fell in love with the sport; I nearly lost my arm by playing in a one-day dodgeball tournament the day before playing two handball games in a row. After the Masters students entered no intramural teams at all in my first year, I was thrilled that we had such enthusiastic participation this year. We even gave out little certificates at the end.

Regardless of what we did, this final semester felt a bit like a victory lap for my class; knowing that we were within sniffing distance of our degrees, many of us turned our focus to the future. When we finally handed in our last assignments, about half of my class had secured jobs in the field in various places throughout Canada. Of those who remain unemployed, most are still actively job hunting and (I think) likely to find something. Which leaves the question: what am I going to do now?

I’m going to go visit my brother and his family for a week. Enjoy the photos.   

The State House in winter.

I guess snow doesn't have to "make way for ducklings."

The railyards, soon to be skyscrapers.

When in Brooklyn...

Pedestrianized Times Square! Probably what I was most excited to see in New York.