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.

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.

   

2014 in Review

As I have noticed in the past, I am less inclined to write when I am in some kind of routine, as I have been in the year (!) since my last post. I also find academic life doesn’t make for great blog material. But that’s a feeble excuse for my failure to post for the past year, as I have also been involved in plenty of fun and non-academic activities that are well worth reporting. 

After an overwhelming first semester of graduate school, my classmates and I settled in to a slightly gentler routine in January. Perhaps the greatest highlight of the semester was a field trip to Detroit. An international field trip is an annual course in my program, organized and paid for by students. Detroit in February would not be everyone’s cup of tea, but our group of 15 or so loved it. The fact that urban planning is our field of study probably didn't hurt; when the customs official learned the focus of our trip, he said “that’s what we need here.”

Plenty of bad things could be – and have been – said about Detroit, but as it always does, actually being there shows a more nuanced picture. Of all the one-industry rust belt cities, Detroit rose the highest and continues to fall the furthest. There is ample evidence of its collapse in the form of derelict housing, vacant industrial buildings, and cars that move as if awoken from death. That’s all been in the news. What seem to have been ignored in stories about the Motor City have been the scattered signs of revival. Midtown and downtown in particular have seen a boost in their fortunes; real estate in Detroit is one of the more affordable investments a person can make, and many people have. Thus is it possible to drive through unplowed blocks of collapsing housing on the way to a brand new Whole Foods.  

Michigan Central Station

Part of the Heidelberg Project

The abandoned Packard Plant (or part of it)

The Motown Museum

Part of my program is a co-op position, typically taking place after the first year. Throughout my first year, I had been working as a research assistant with the Cities & Environment Unit (CEU), which is associated with Dalhousie. I was lucky enough to be hired on for the summer as well. That work placement had the advantage of allowing me to remain in Halifax and actually shortened my already miniscule walking commute from about 5 minutes to 2 minutes. The work I did was similar to what I had done during the year, although I was able to become more involved in each project as I was now working full-time. Much of the CEU’s work involves planning in First Nations communities, but I was involved in some local projects as well.

During the school year, I had been invited to a friend’s wedding in Rhode Island in May. Getting from Nova Scotia to New England is surprisingly challenging, but I had resolved to make it happen. When driving presented itself as the best option, I thought of other things I could incorporate into a weekend trip with plenty of driving – a visit to Boston, a visit to Northampton – and quickly realized that this trip would be much better with company. I thought the long drive would be a hard sell, but ultimately a group of five of us rented a van and made the trek. All told, it was fantastic. I was able to show off my hometown, meet up with old friends, go to a Red Sox game for the first time in years, and avoid driving all the way from Halifax to Rhode Island and back on my own.

The view from the wedding reception in Narragansett, RI

Our little gang after the Sox game (thanks for the photo, Nathan)

After the trip to Rhode Island (Rhode trip), I stayed put in Halifax for most of the summer. I kept busy with work, played softball once a week and enjoyed a brief visit from my parents in June. It was not until mid-August that I left Halifax again, and this time it was for a hectic three weeks. One of my cousins was getting married in Ucluelet, British Columbia, a great reason for my first visit to Canada’s west coast in ten years. A long day of flying took me from the Atlantic to the Pacific. My parents and I spent several days in Victoria before driving up Vancouver Island to Ucluelet, where we enjoyed a sizable family reunion and celebration. After two this summer, I think I can say I rather like weddings; I’m running out of unmarried cousins, however. I made a brief stopover in Vancouver before flying back to Ontario, where I spent a few days enjoying the last of summer. My parents and I paid a visit to Manitoulin Island and I made sure to kayak on Lake Nipissing before flying back to Halifax to start the term. 

Playing "Martha, My Dear" to the Pacific Ocean (in Victoria)

Out for a stroll in Ucluelet

Spanish Banks, Vancouver

My last post discussed the start-of-term field trip that I took to Yarmouth, Nova Scotia and the surrounding area. This year’s trip went to Prince Edward Island, and I went along as a paid administrative assistant. The term hadn't really started yet and I was able to meet many of the incoming class in a relatively casual setting. I also managed to check one more province off my list of places visited.

Our group refreshing themselves on PEI

The focus of the semester I have just completed was my independent project, a major chunk of credits and therefore, a hefty investment of time and energy. Some classmates and I also “invented” a course that got us in the news, although I managed to be absent every time a news crew came around (see here and here). My final semester begins in January. A major team project will be the focus of my time, but I will also manage to plan this year’s international field trip to Boston and New York and captain the intramural basketball team. Many of my classmates are thinking about what will become of us once we graduate; I will hopefully have too many commitments to spend time worrying about such things.

For all that talk at the beginning about being “in a routine” and not having much to write about, it has been quite a busy year. But all of what I've done pales in significance to the year's most important news - I became an uncle! My brother and his wife welcomed a son in July, I welcomed a nephew (via Skype), and my parents are now grandparents. I’m looking forward to meeting the newest member of our family over this Christmas break.

And possibly writing more often in 2015. Best wishes to everyone. 

P.S. There was also a quick trip to Cape Breton in April and a quick visit to North Bay in November when my Mom was ordained a deacon in the Anglican church. But one can only write so much in one sitting.

Home for a Rest

Despite my frequent changes in location and occupation over the past three years, this September marked the most dramatic transition I have experienced in a long time. I don't really possess the words to explain why - I'm not totally sure I even understand how extreme this shift has been yet. With that acknowledgement of emotional turbulence out of the way, here's a few actual events that happened in my first semester as a graduate student. Maybe they'll help illuminate things.

But first - remember how I used to play basketball? I shot around mostly by myself in Arthur's Pass, and played once a week while I was in Spain. I've been dribbling a basketball since I could stand, but I gave plenty of sports a try at one time or another. A few years ago, it occurred to me that basketball is a relatively safe sport that I could expect to play for more years than certain others (rugby, for instance). I'm also more talented at it than any other game, so I decided to make it my sport of choice. Returning to a university setting also meant the possibility of intramurals, pickup games, etc. But guess what happened on September 1 during a casual game of 21?

 

I badly dislocated my right middle finger - my shooting hand, and on a day when I was ON FIRE. I have photos of the x-ray, but they have made people gag, so I won't post them here. After weekly occupational therapy and four months of playing time, I'm clear to play again. My hand was a conversation starter as I met my new classmates and professors, and did not inhibit note-taking as I write with my left hand. It also served as a reminder of the convenience of the Canadian health care system - apart from a lengthy wait in the emergency room. No bills, no forms, just a friendly occupational therapist who met with me weekly for months. She also reminds me that I'll "have a fat finger forever," and that my "hand modeling days are over." I told her I can still model my left hand.

After that little excitement, my term began. As we will spend much of our time studying the Halifax Regional Municipality (HRM), the first year of the MPlan program starts with an optional field trip to a destination anywhere else in the Maritime Provinces (Prince Edward Island, Nova Scotia, and New Brunswick, for the non-Canadians reading this). We spent several nights in Yarmouth, NS, and took day trips to various nearby locations. The whole thing was an excellent way for the new class to get acquainted with each other and the program. Plus, I went on the best whale-watching trip of my life.

Whale-watching off Brier Island.

Peggy's Cove.

Lunenburg.

Sunset in Yarmouth.

Once the actual classes got started, my definition of "busy" had to be rewritten. Planning is a diverse, complex field, and it seems the best way to learn it is by doing. I agree with that philosophy, but when "learning by doing" means having multiple assignments due almost every week, it also means coming up with creative metaphors to explain the situation. Drowning was one that I used frequently in September, or the more colo(u)rful version in which I described my class as a group of preschoolers being taught how to swim by being kicked into the deep end of a pool. 

I emphasize that I used those terms in September, because as the assignments started getting submitted and the grades started coming back, we all began to adjust. By the end of October, I'd gained some degree of comfort - I stopped listening to pump-up music before presentations, for one thing. As the final assignments rolled around in December, the stress had been replaced by the most complete burnout I've ever experienced. I have no creative metaphors for how burnt out I was because...I was burnt out. But I guess this group of preschoolers figured out how to swim. Or at least keep our heads above water.

Being so busy has not completely prevented me from having a social life. My classmates and I dominated a campus trivia night for weeks before our first loss. It's been a while since I lived in a city that has professional sports teams, so I've made it out to a Mooseheads hockey game and a Rainmen basketball game (Canada has its own pro basketball league - who knew?). Most importantly, several friends from the past have become friends in the present, a privilege I never anticipated.

The Rainmen don't draw big crowds, but those of us that go get good seats for cheap.

But the holidays have been a welcome opportunity to exhale, recharge, and get some perspective. This program has been forcing me to ask myself a number of questions, few of which have easy answers. However, I'm only three months into a two-year program. Of more immediate concern is that I'm two weeks into my break, and there remains ample sleeping and chocolate-eating to be done before next semester starts.          

Montreal, part of the scenic route I took home by train.

Return of the Nerd!

Since this post, I have been letting the subject of my plans for September fall by the wayside. Now that the North Island, the South Island, and Saipan are behind me, it's time to explain my next adventure.

In the three years since I finished my undergraduate degree, I have intentionally worked a variety of different jobs to broaden my experience. Potential career paths have been spinning through the back of my mind, each with roughly the same level of appeal. After three years spent investigating, the biggest conclusion I have made is that it would take several lifetimes to explore the possibilities offered by every one of my interests. However, I also realized that I did not want to spend the rest of my days making coffee and sandwiches for just above minimum wage. I wanted to be doing something that made positive change, so at least I could finish each day comfortable in the knowledge that I was doing what I could to improve the world. Being a barista did not do that for me.

It became clear that graduate school was in the cards, and I used my extended stay in New Zealand to explore various options online. The study of planning (you may have heard it called urban planning) has attracted me for several years now. I have long been convinced that humanity's relationship with the planet is out of sync, and the planning of towns and cities seems like an excellent way to manage that relationship. Planning also combines several of my other interests, allowing me to get a sense of what the aforementioned "several lifetimes" might have been like.

After coordinating references, transcripts, and personal statements through the wonder of the internet, I was enthusiastically accepted at Dalhousie University, in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Their MPlan is a two-year degree with a mandatory work term. My only hesitation about it was the two-year commitment (European degrees are one year), but the more I hear about it, the more I'm glad I accepted their offer. I recently made a visit to Halifax to arrange housing and get acquainted with the city. A number of friends from my undergraduate years happen to be living in the area as well, and one is even in the same program.

I will do my best to update the blog while at Dalhousie, although much of the material might be filed under "planning nerd." Time will tell.

Meanwhile, here's an assortment of photos from the past three years.

Logroño's bridge over the Rio Ebro.

Bambi, the deer that the staff took care of at Pueblo Ingles.

Eating clam chowder from a bread bowl in San Francisco - it was better than my facial expression indicates.

Stormtroopers guarding the Willis St mall in Wellington.

The crayfish tail I cooked in Arthur's Pass.

A ringtail possum in the tree outside Chris' house in Brisbane.

Bird Island near Saipan.