What’s in a resolution?

Sometimes a wish, sometimes a desire to better oneself, sometimes merely an empty promise! This year, I resolved to cut down on “useless” resolutions; I firmly believe that all of us have an innate desire to be better people, but the real proof of the pudding is in the eating thereof...  I should clarify before I go on, that I regard as “useless” all resolutions which are not kept, and ones which are made in the full knowledge that they won’t be kept!  I wrote down a list of all my resolutions, my hopes, my aspirations, my ambitions for the coming year: it makes for a lot of reading in the original form! Therefore, I did some pruning, and came up with some resolutions which I promised myself, and which I am fully capable of fulfilling:

• To respond more promptly and carefully to my pen pals. This won’t be an easy resolution to keep, but I would say that penpal friendship is still a hobby to me, nay, more than a hobby, as these people are my friends. I will make time in my schedule and room in my wallet to post out my snail mails, and be better organised to reply to those with whom I communicate electronically.
• To study. It goes without saying, that if I don’t make every effort with my Chemistry studies, I have no chance of gaining a place on August’s nursing programme at Dawson. Already suffering the consequences of serious procrastination, my studies are a lot more than a casual whim- they are a route to my career and livelihood, the means to give my family and friends what they need and deserve.
• To better my French. After my French course is over, I will have an attestation to say I sat through the programme, but that will count for nothing si je ne pratiquerai pas la langue du Molière chaque journée! I simply have no excuses, being married to a Francophone and living in this district for over a year. I hope to continue my learning, albeit unofficially.
• There are many activities that I want to get out and do, or stay in and do! As these are aspirations rather than resolutions, and some of them are very difficult to realise, let’s just stick to resolving to concentrate on the activities that others can enjoy as well as myself.

Normally, people compose their New Year messages with some form of retrospective: in my case, I prefer to think in the present, because dwelling on the past never did me any favours. Perhaps some events in 2010 deserve mention though!

 

• Losing my job: while for some people this is a disaster, and yes, it was not easy, yet it gave the kick start to a career I had long wanted to follow! I was beginning to get tired of working in the call centre, trying to sell products against my ethics while ostensibly giving customer service… on a positive note, it did introduce me to some good Anglophone friends and colleagues, gave me a moderate income, and meant that when I was laid off, I could go back to school to take up my ambition of a career in nursing. I survived through my first Canadian Winter, though it was far from typical, and I only had to walk 200 metres between the Metro station and the workplace in the Plateau of Montréal, in slushy snow. The commute was rather a bore, but I enjoyed speaking to Canadians from almost every province, and felt less isolated in a country that had seemed dominated by French speakers at first arrival.

• Outings: Though we did not go as far afield as last summer, we did try out more local experiences, visiting for the first time the Islands of Boucherville, a real treat for a nature lover like myself. We spent memorable hot summer days cycling and walking around our area, exploring and enjoying the fresh air, thanks also to my amazing wife for splashing out on an amazing bike to get me more mobile in the absence of a car!

• Hobbies: Having a bit more free time whilst going back to school and being off work, gave me time to reawaken some hobbies which had taken a back seat while I was working. My Sylvie bought me some art materials to replace those which I had left in England, and inspired by the requests of my fellow students, I took up painting again. I also began writing again to my pen pals, new and old, having realised that this was more than just a hobby, but an important part of my life. A disappointing postal service has rendered snail mailing expensive and disagreeable, but I hope that things improve in the new year. Particularly successful were the paintings which I made for fellow students and also as a leaving gift for a retiring professor at my school!

• School for “francisation”: This has so far been one of the best experiences of my life! I am very grateful to the government which takes such pains to integrate immigrants, by donating free classes to learn the French language. As I already speak one of the official languages of Canada, I was surprised to be accepted, but it means so much to me! Not only do I have better job prospects, but I understand the majority of my neighbours, I can form new friendships and talk to my fellow countrymen, and I feel much more like a part in the society here. I have formed some wonderful friendships that cross the boundaries of race, religion and background, and those close to me have been able to share in those friendships, so everyone has benefitted! I will be immensely sad when the course is over, in late January, but hope to keep in touch with the wonderful students and professors, among whom I am proud to count many friends!

• People! I realised, not for the first time, but stronger than ever, that I am innately quite a sociable person! This has been a year of making and forming many new friendships, with people from across the globe! The picture above, taken this Christmas, is just one example of many, many happy memories, showing my Colombian and Ukrainian friends from the French classes, along with my beloved wife and one of our “girls”! I’m truly grateful to all my friends for helping me to realise that, whatever a restrictive sect tells you, there are many good people out here in the real world, and they are worthy of calling friends in the truest sense. Having these close friends is more healing than years of therapy and counselling, both of which I had originally thought I would need to recover from my past. I now firmly believe that if our past can be treated positively, regarded in a positive light, it is possible to learn from, and even be healed by, the same.

I wanted to close this blog post with thanks for a wonderful year, to all those near to me in heart, for all that you have done to bring me to now:

• My darling wife and soul mate Sylvie
• My family in England, distant from me geographically, but not in heart.
• My wonderful friends at school and in my social life. You know who you are, and you are appreciated!
• My pen friends, without whom this year could have seemed much emptier and rather lonely.

The list of names is huge, more like a block buster end credits, so I truly apologise for not putting the names above- I also wished to respect the privacy of some individuals who do not wish to have their names on the internet, but whose work is nonetheless greatly appreciated by many!

So a good night to the old year, and let us raise a metaphorical glass to 2011. May all of you be blessed!

A special day.

And one which is unforgettable for all the right reasons. A day full of amazing moments, many smiles, some tears, much laughter, and moments of sheer joie de vivre. The occasion? The party held at École Pierre Dupuy, for all the students, professors and monitors from the three classes of francisation.

The day began quite early for me, although the actual party was set for 11am. The bus service was mercifully running to its normal schedules, but I still had a logistical challenge: how to get almost 100 cookies, 25 Christmas cards, a camera, camcorder, mincemeat tart, tripod and mini laptop to school on public transport, without breaking or losing anything! In the event, it was straightforward, and my careful preparation did not go to waste, as I arrived at school with plenty of time to spare. None of the students had arrived, but the room had already been set out the previous days, with tables laid out for dining in a big double room, and a long table down one wall for all the edible contributions.

   The students began arriving in ones and twos, mostly bearing interesting looking parcels and bundles, contributions for the feast to come! I took the chance of having most of our class there early, to hand out the cards which I’d attempted to write in hasty late night French, to all my fellow students and teachers. The professor, who had already presented each of us with a beautiful, thoughtful gift and card the day before, had her turn to receive a present from the students, and it was touching, as this kind of friendship does not often exist between students and their teacher.

 

As more students began to arrive, the large classroom quickly filled with many accents and a whole world of different foods; not only were people practising the French they were here to learn, but also their maternal language. I did not have this luxury, being the sole Anglophone, but this was not serious for someone who has almost completed the final level of the course! The students rearranged the tables so that they were seated with their classmates and teachers, which worked well for all.

Being the “official” photographer was slightly lonely, as I did not get to include myself in too many photos, but perhaps that was for the best! At least I got to do something I really love doing, recording people really enjoying themselves!

After most of the students had found a place at the brightly decorated tables, we lined up to sample the food. There were many dishes, from the four corners of the globe, and it was good to sample a very little of almost everything. Those who went first (our group!) were relatively restrained so that there would be plenty for all, though this proved not to be an issue. The math is simple, if 60 students plus 5 teaching staff all contribute something, there was bound to be plenty!

I did not manage to sample everything, but there was nothing which I tasted that I would not like to eat again. There was plenty of variety, and with the fun to come, it was not great to eat too heavily in any case.

After the dinner, our group put on our performance of our teacher’s poem (awaiting permission to translate and reproduce it here), which worked very well, followed by our rendition of Silent Night in French, Spanish, English and Ukrainian. With candles and a semi-organised choir, it created a very nice and also moving, atmosphere. I felt extremely emotional, as hearing others singing in my native language could be compared to a taste of home, and also a poignant reminder of how far I had come from the repressive culture I was born into. The choir was followed by  a presentation by the professor of the first level, and then the floor was cleared for the dancing. Several had imported music from their country, and almost everybody had a go at dancing to music from Hawaii, Cuba, Ukraine, and a host of others. It was warm but entertaining work, dancing while wearing an elf hat with bells, but I would not have missed it for anything.

After the dancing, which was looking to continue all night, we commenced a game of musical chairs. As I had not taken a huge part in the dancing, I volunteered and was whipped into the game, while a trusty classmate took plenty of photos to ease my mind! It was fantastic fun, and not too challenging to the grey cells, a great way to wind down after a short but intense day of celebration.

So, with a few tears and farewells (only for the duration of the holidays!) we parted company and made our way home, tired and happy, feeling very much richer in spirit and experience than before. The event helped me to realise just how important this kind of activity is, to retain the interest of those who immigrate here, and to help them to feel a part of the society and culture. On a personal level, it was wonderful to be able to call so many diverse people my friends, and was without comparison to anything I have experienced before. I came from an outwardly very close-knit religious group, but one which gave no room for individual expression or happiness- and I found both to be running freely in this party, with none of the negative side effects I had been ‘taught’ to expect! How absolutely right, that one can be taught so much more from people than from books. The professors and monitors of our classes seemed to love their job, and I for one can see that it must be immensely enriching.

With this positive note, I end, but will be posting more over the next few days, as the good times continue.

Tis the season to be active!

The above group of happy people was taken on Friday at the St Joseph’s Oratory, Montréal. All three levels of French classes, together with our teachers and monitors, took the trip to this famous and extremely frequently visited landmark, to better understand the place the church and religion in general have shaped the society we are slowly integrating with.

Although the week had boded ill, with rain instead of snow, and a cloudy start, the sun came out for our entire voyage and we were able to enjoy the bracing air high above the West of Montréal. To see the church and basilica, and to explore thoroughly, requires a lot of standing and walking, and the huge variations in temperature (for example in the chamber of candles, the heat was suffocating, but in other parts the cold of the mountain penetrated to our very bones!). We learned much more about the history of Saint Frère André, and the importance in the local culture of this representative of humility. I didn’t know what to say about the miracles attributed to this undoubtedly influential man, but if the numerous crutches discarded by those who had been healed were anything to go by, he certainly had many successes to his credit.  It reminded me somewhat of Notre Dame de Paris, with all the amazingly well worked pieces of architecture, paintings, windows, and fittings; even though this church is quasi modern, I didn’t find the decor to be extravagant ad nauseum. It did illustrate again for me (as if there was a need!) the power and influence that religion has over people, and how this power does not disappear overnight, even with a tranquil revolution.

The fondness of the Catholics for their relics always amused me, though of course I respect that they have a right to attach a belief to an inanimate object; the relic comprised of the heart of Brother André was slightly bizarre, especially the history of its loss and later discovery in a basement just a few miles away. Always fascinated by the history of people and their effect on society, it was a great experience also to walk around the Crèches (nativity scenes) which were donated by countries around the world. It was especially interesting to note that both Palestine and Israel had contributed relatively conventional figurines, and that these were in fairly close proximity. I was interested to note that the United Kingdom had contributed a nice painting, and close inspection of the detail gave me fresh confidence in my own painting ability and the motivation to continue.

After the tour of the Oratory, I parted company from the rest of the school apart from one classmate, who took the Metro back into Montréal with me. I applied for my Chemistry courses for the January semester and was relieved to note that I had plenty of time to sort these out, though I will face a difficult period when I have to rush from French classes to get to my night classes in Montréal. At least I will be significantly headed towards my goal of eventually taking the nursing course, as long as I can successfully make it through into the programme before my equivalence arrives. Later in the evening,  I met with Sylvie and we treated ourselves to the IMAX experience, to watch Harry Potter. We were most impressed, and now obviously eagerly awaiting the last part of the film!

Today has seen a lot more rushing around, buying decorations and putting them up. We have not swamped the apartment with decorations, and kept the tree pretty much the same as last year, with the important addition of real candy canes to be true to tradition. This Christmas, I hope I will be able to do more than just talk about the traditional things we planned to do last time; visit the midnight mass, hear a choir, etc. I love the ambience of Christmas, though like most, I hate the commercialism and also the hypocrisy of people who don’t normally behave generously, clamouring for recognition for making one paltry donation to charity or being sociable for one day.

I doubt we will be disappointed in a white Christmas, but it may not turn out to be very white; today we had a whole centimetre of snow, which partly melted; this evening, the melted crust has frozen into a sheet of ice, and as I type this I can hear the sliding of cars whose drivers have not yet bought winter tyres. The purchase of crampons to put on my boots will prove to be a necessary evil, I believe. Tomorrow we are to make our way to Montréal for brunch, but I can’t see a few millimetres of snow stopping the buses and Metro.

Winter approaches, but not here!

(and I make no pretences, the photograph of our apartment block above was taken last year after the heaviest fall of snow during that winter!)

I am not  sure whether to be amused, pitying, or even alarmed, on regarding the news and learning that Europe has received a lot more snow that we have so far, and promises more to come! Here, we are experiencing many rain showers, but so far the sum total of our snow barely made it to 3 cm in the drifts. That said, I finally had the chance last week, to experience something which I had frankly been dreading throughout the previous winter: freezing rain. This appellation is not very scary to those  who have never experienced the phenomenon, but to those who experienced it last week, it was far from being a joke. For those not versed in the weather or the climate here, freezing rain is not the same as hail; when the weather conditions are just right, hovering just below zero, the rain freezes immediately as it falls, making a veritable ice rink of the sidewalks and roads. Last Friday, I duly observed the signs and warnings on the TV, and wrapped up warm, also wearing my intermediate boots; this was not enough to stop me from slipping on the top step and bouncing down the whole flight,backpack and coffee flask flying. Maybe my open umbrella helped to absorb some of the speed of my flight, but I was still quite shaken and bruised by the speed and violence of the tumble. The sidewalks were practically impassable, even the seasoned Québecois were tumbling into the road, into the path of traffic which could not always take evasive action. I finally made it to the bus stop by hanging onto the lamp posts and walking on the grass where possible. On finding about thirty people waiting at the stop which I normally share with two people, I suspected there might have been a problem with the transport, and sure enough, the driver of a snow tractor stopped to tell us that there were no buses.

I spent a while trying to contact the school, only to discover that it was closed as a consequence of the ice; I was very surprised, but seeing that the majority of students go to that school by public transit, it figured that school couldn’t function if the pupils couldn’t get there. Bus services and some semblance of normalcy returned by 10 am, but the school was closed for the day, so I enjoyed the chance to relax at home with the wife and family, and to take stock of our preparations for Christmas. I was recently very disappointed to be turned down for the job at Costco, because according to those who conducted my interview, and other staff within the store with whom we spoke, my candidature was fine for the job, and they needed a lot of people. The rejection letter and inadequate explanation was not much of a consolation, and though everyone has to deal with some degree of rejection in their life, I am not sure that this was expected. I still hope to get some form of work for the winter, as life will be very tough if we have only the one income to live on. Thankfully it won’t spoil Christmas too much, as we can afford a few small gifts and cards, plus we already have the tree and some decorations.

Life at school goes on apace, with a couple of birthdays, and the unexpected holiday, taking their toll on the curriculum. I don’t mind going along with the more cultural, less academic exercises the school offers along with the francisation programme, but I do find that sometimes a lot of time is lost sharing things which are best reserved for out of school social times. I have made some good friends at the school, both among teachers and students, and it is a lot less formal than a regular classroom. We have a much easier curriculum lined up for this season, as there are many field trips and other functions in December, the last day of school basically being a party, before we leave on a  comparatively long holiday.

On Friday, we will be visiting the St Joseph’s Oratory http://www.saint-joseph.org/ in Montréal, which promises to be interesting, especially as the different students have little experience of nativity scenes. I am not sure how those with other than Christian beliefs will fare on this trip, and in a sense, their reactions bring about a sense of déjà vu, especially those who have to opt out of birthday and Christmas celebrations. It serves to highlight just how unpleasantly narrow and unrealistically restrictive was the sect which I left; by the same token, though I am not that fond of Christmas and its associated commercialism, the hypocrisy of those who donate money that is not theirs in the first place, or who put on a  nice face for only a few days per year. Not to be too cynical, I love the excitement of unwrapping presents, the beauty of a tastefully decorated Christmas tree, the fun of giving and receiving cards, and the general feeling of bonhomie that exists during that season.

We have another visit lined up, to the Electrium, an exhibition by the company HydroQuebec

http://www.hydroquebec.com/visit/monteregie/electrium.html

, the company everyone here loves to hate. This province is dependant on hydroelectricity to a frightening degree, and of course with such a huge company holding a monopoly, they can do pretty much as they wish with consumer bills. All the same, electricity here costs about one 5th of the price of that in the UK, so it is not without its upside. The visit to the Longueuil Palais de justice was a flop, as the lady who did the talking talked much to fast, and we basically spent one hour listening to a stream of explanations in a stuffy court room. On the plus side, it was only five minutes walk from our school, so we lost no time in returning for lunch! I found it an interesting insight into the criminal justice system here, which is thankfully not overloaded in our region. It was also encouraging to see that I could follow a presentation in French, and came away having understood 95% of what was said, as opposed to 30% when I began the course. The interview with Costco, although having a negative outcome, did at least demonstrate to myself that I can hold my own in this kind of situation. I can’t hold a lively discussion in a group of French speakers, but am always encouraged by the response of those around me in the school. I think that when my course is over and I am plunged once again into the Anglophone world, I will miss these great experiences, these chances to literally immerse myself in the culture not only of my own adoptive country, but that of the other countries who have contributed people to the circle of my friends and colleagues!

This is a relatively picture-free episode, but I hope to rectify that with the developments of Friday and next week, although my free time at the computer is absolutely certain not to grow in the next few weeks.

Hopefully this video of Bibitte, who finally discovered that she is interested in television, will help to offset the lack of photographs!

Bibitte discovers the television!

Rappelez-vous, rappelez-vous, le 5 Novembre!

Jusqu’à aujourd’hui, mon blog a été ecrit seulement en Anglais; bien sûr; pour la majorité de mes lecteurs, l’anglais est la langue plus facile à comprendre. Mais, j’ai besoin de pratiquer mes compétences en rédaction française aussi. Aujourd’hui, je pense, serait un bon moment pour commencer à écrire mon blog en anglais et en français, pas une traduction mot pour mot, ce qui n’est pas possible, mais je vais essayer d’écrire la même information dans les deux langues.

Aujourd’hui, le 5 Novembre, est un jour spécial dans le Royaume-Uni, pour des raisons historiques et traditionnelles.  En 1605, il vivait un homme qui est devenue célèbre dans l’histoire pour son échec. Parti d’un group d’hommes, qui étaient considérés comme terroristes, Guy (Guido) Fawkes  a été pris avec la main dans le sac, (en particulier, dans la cave sous The House of Lords, parlement britannique)  avec lui plus de 30 barils de poudre à canon). Il a été torturé, puis éxecuté. Le complot pour détuire Jacques 1ere avait échoué.

Ajourd’hui, nous célébrons l’échec (ou,  certains disent, de célébrer la tentative de faire tomber la gouvernement!) de M Fawkes avec feux d’artifice, et feux de joie, dans les endroits publiques ou les jardins privées.  Par tradition, pendant la journée, les enfants sortents dans  les rues avec des effigies de Guy Fawkes. Ils exigent d’argent de leurs voisins et autres piétons avec la phrase ‘Penny for the guy’ (Penny pour le Guy). Plus tard, dans la soirée, les familles et  amis se sont rassemblent dans les jardins ou espaces publiques, souvent accompagné de pluie ou de brouillard (le temps ne respecte pas  les évenements publiques!). Les effigies de Guy sont brûlés sur les feux des joies, et les feux d’artifice sont allumées.

Les feux d’artifice sont disponibles toute l’année dans certains points de vente en Angleterre, mais le 5 Novembre est toujours le temps traditionel d’acheter et d’utiliser des feux d’artifice, et le plupart des magasins commençent de les vendre à la fin d’Octobre. Le 5 Novembre, les pompiers et les urgences sont souvent occupés a cause des blessures nombreuses, des brûlées et la circulation dans les rues pendant la soirée. Si les minicipalités ne le defendent  pas.  Il est généralement acceptable d’utiliser le feu d’artifice  entre le coucher du soleil et 21 heures. Les propriétaires d’animaux domestiques sont conséillées de les sécurisers afin de prévenir des inquiétitudes inutiles.

J’aime me souvenir du suspens en attendant le premier feu d’artifice qui annoncait une spectacle, la lueur des feux de joie qui illuminaient le ciel, l’odeurs de cordite, les pommes caramélisées, le pain au gingembre, et la goût de chocolate chaud et pommes de terre cuites au feu! Pour moi, ces sont des souvenirs très  precieux de notre fête unique: Bonfire night!

And now in English!

Not of course exactly the same information, as most of those who can read this blog in English will already know the history of the Gunpowder Plot, when a Catholic cult was formed in secret in an attempt to overthrow the King by violent means and overturn the political system in England. I am surprised how few people know that a festival or event even occurs in Britain, or that thousands of rain-sodden Brits wait in the cold November fog for a brief spectacle of light and sound, returning afterwards to the comfort of their homes, hot gingerbread, hot chocolate, roast chestnuts, fire baked potatoes,  mulled wine and toffee apples! The tradition of the Guy had almost died out in my teenage years, though the stores (as always) sold plenty of plastic, combustible masks (see V for Vendetta for an example!). In my time I can only recall seeing one Guy being pushed down our street in a wheelbarrow, and afterwards seeing the effigy burned with much ceremony in a nearby park. The children in our street preferred the extortion practised at hallow’een as introduced by the Americans, to the limited funds which they could collect by pushing a straw doll around the cold November streets!

I loved the exciting packaging of the fireworks when I was younger, and even spent inordinate amounts on fireworks for ‘bring your own’ parties. These parties often had to be carried on over several evenings (terrible for pet owners) as we amassed far too many fireworks to be lit safely in one evening. I also recall the horrible deflated feeling, almost like a champagne hangover, when one walked in the garden ‘the morning after’ and kicked over the rain-sodden empty firework shells. Budding chemist that I was, I would often construct more interesting and spectacular displays from randomly selected fireworks. Distinct memories of a huge rocket, which stated it was for ‘large scale displays only’, being fired off underground, with a satisfyingly industrial size booom!

Of course, I could not have come to a better place than Montréal, to continue to experience the ‘joys’ of fireworks, with the huge displays each summer! I don’t miss the holes in my pockets and clothing which the fireworks left, nor the inevitable consequences of misfired projectiles which had to be duly noted!

The reason for my first essay into French on my blog was twofold; firstly, my blog is a statement of how I feel, I think, and also a kind of springboard for my work, secondly, in my current level we are expected to express ourselves far more with the use of French in everyday life, and what better way than to share some of my blog with those of my friends who only speak French, or don’t know how to use a tranlator!

I hope to make a more extensive post at the weekend, just one of many projects I have on hand for weather just like this- cold, rainy and dull!

Le succès!

This marks a proud moment for me, although I did not manage to capture a perfect photo of the moment! Having spent some time and a lot of effort in making the painting for a retiring professor at the CFP Pierre Dupuy, it was both a relief and a confirmation to have it finally presented to the man himself, in front of his grateful class! This was halfway through an eventful, emotional and interesting day!

Primarily, Tuesday the 27th was the day of the “finnisants” those fortunate students who had proceeded through all three tiers of the language and culture programme, and successfully achieved attestation. The day commenced with our own intermediate class checking the correction of our papers, which was a pleasant relief to myself and most of the classmates; we then proceeded to another class for the presentation of the certificates by the directors of the institute, the professors and the monitorati. We only knew most of the students from brief conversations in the cafeteria, which was a shame as the higher levels gain by aiding those in lower tiers; anyhow, it was an interesting experience and had me thinking of potential gift ideas for our own finishing ceremony in January!

After the ceremony of presenting the certificates, and many gifts from the pupils to their professors, we all adjourned to a buffet restaurant in Boucherville, La Maison de Jade, basically a rather commercial operation, but a good chance to eat a great deal for very little outlay! After the meal at the restaurant, a few friends from my class came back for a brief visit, during which they were introduced to two Québecoise (Doudonne and Bibittte!) and sampled our molasses cookies! It brought back mixed memories, entertaining people in our home, but it was an experience I would love to repeat some time. The most important rule would be to include some non-Spanish speakers among the invitees…

Life in the two days of holiday before I return to school is made up of searching for part time work; kind and helpful as were the comments about my painting, and the suggestions that I turn it into a living, it is just too transient for a reliable income- and I am not yet ready to take on board managing my own taxes let alone managing a business that depends on me. I also don’t have sufficient confidence in my ability as a painter to be able to take such a leap. At present, I am concentrating on progressing with my potential career in nursing, and all the subjects which are necessary ancillaries to that.

Now I should leave the computer and get on with work in the real world; I hope my readers will excuse me sharing the bare minimum in this instance- and for my not attempting to translate the blog this time! I really need a parallel blog to be able to post in two languages, but perhaps during the next few weeks, I shall get the chance to practise my blog posts, as the level three classes are much more about written activities.

Growing confidence

…is the order of the day in many areas of my life! The picture above represents something which I have been longing to do for some time, albeit half-heartedly in the UK. A commission from my classmates, to paint a picture for a keen fisherman (also a valuable and almost retiring member of the teaching team at our school), was the prime excuse to buy a few canvases. I love the feel of painting on canvas, the rough texture enables a return to oil colour techniques with the acrylic paint. True, it is the first time I have used the canvas from that manufacturer, and the first time in which I have used that type of paint for a finished oil technique painting, but I am happy with the results. The colours in real life are not as dramatic as the photograph would lead one to believe, but tomorrow I aim to wet the canvas and ascertain if the varnish will brighten the colour excessively. It is very much alike to learning a language, getting back into painting: one has to experiment, to get to know the individual components, also the combinations in which they work, before they begin to perform what the artist or author demands!  Genuine praise and criticism are very valuable in both processes. Thankfully, in painting, I have not had to face the same kind of criticism or manner of correction as I have with learning a language. I understand that people do not like to hear their mother tongue “murdered”, but at the same time, it is not constructive to the self confidence, to be criticised for one’s language harshly- confidence to speak a foreign tongue is very fragile indeed, and professors of language need to be partly skilled in psychological subjects as well as simple teaching!

Negative things aside, I was pleased to have got through the exams, I believe with a passable grade which will enable me to move on to the next level, starting next week. We have nothing except a social dinner on Wednesday, at which I hope to present the picture to the teacher. He is known personally to me, although he has never taught me; most of my classmates were taught by him in their first block, when they were still very nervous and shy immigrants. He is a great guy, and as I a) did not have much confidence in the quality of my work, and b) did not want to rip off my fellow students, most of whom have minimal incomes, I charged simply for the materials to make the painting. All the same, the fact that my work is liked and perhaps even appreciated, spurs me on to try even more painting whenever I have the time. The law of time means that I will have to cut some other activity (i.e. computer time!) but many would not argue with that!

Having put the exams out of the way for at least three months, I am happy to be looking forward to the next level, and a new professor. I am also looking forward to discovering if there are any Anglophones among the 50 or so new students who begin next week. Although it is great for practise to speak French in the canteen at lunchtimes, several times I have felt swamped by Spanish or Arabic! English speakers are emphatically in the minority here!

Well, I may be in a linguistic minority, but if I can speak to others through pictures, I will be almost as happy! The recipient of my last painting was pleased to receive it as a birthday gift, though every time I look at the photo, I keep thinking of adjustments for “next time”.

Developments

As always, when the creative bug bites, I have to get working immediately before the mood is lost. Yesterday, I was pleasantly surprised to see what I could achieve with the correct motivation. I finally got my paints into action and proved to my relief that they performed as well as anything I used in England. Although the subject was a long-incomplete project, a picture of our Doudonne, I managed to complete all the painting to a sufficiently finished stage to permit hanging, after only two hours’ work. I am immensely pleased with the result and motivated to continue with my other projects, also to keep alive the small but potent flame of creativity which has recently been stifled behind the drapes of learning hard fact and lessons. In the case of this particular portrait, less is more; I feel that the first stage (above) was in fact just as acceptable as the final melange of oil and watercolour technique. I am now in possession of enough confidence to tackle canvases, and with a little more patience at my drawing skills, also work on other paintings for commissions. My ambition is to have a gallery of our animals for the hallway, but tackling a black cat’s portrait is rather more difficult!

Yesterday, not only was creativity blooming, but also the sunshine, and we made the most of a crisp autumn afternoon to take a saunter in the neighbourhood. The leaves of many trees were turning colour, though I did not fulfil the ambition to bring home a brace of red maple leaves as souvenirs!

We visited the local library; though it has a few English books, the collection reflects the neighbourhood. I am going to apply for membership, as Sylvie did, so that we can borrow various books to aid with my Francisation and possibly eventually, medicine. The underwhelming exterior hides a beautiful new library, and I look forward to spending some evenings there in the winter when a sortie into Montréal is not such an attractive proposition!

The power of speech

I always enjoyed being able to talk to people, especially discussing subjects which were mutually interesting! The chance to speak to more interesting people occurs each time I go to school, or have an outing with the school, an experience which it is almost impossible to write negatively about.

This week has been somewhat slightly different from the routine class sessions, especially as we had an outing yesterday. On commencing the course, we were told that we would be touring the Grande Bibliotheque de Montréal as part of the cultural integration programme. Of course, being already au fait with most of that institution, I rather expected that it would be old hat for me; I was pleasantly wrong!

It seemed to me rather as though there were a few mountains made from mole hills in the organising, especially as not everyone was cognisant with the Metro. Added to that, I began the day a little stressed, as a result of taking a bus which took at least 30 minutes longer than normal due to traffic conditions and pouring rain! Added to that, I was supposed to rendezvous at the school rather than wait in the terminal for the other students and teachers, and only just caught a bus in time; it seemed rather silly to pass the same spot at least 5 times in one day, and made me wish even harder to possess a car!

Finally the group of 45 or so students was assembled at Longueuil and took the short hop via Metro to Berri station, right beneath the library. On arrival, we were shown to a part of the library in the basement, where I have never been before. It was interesting to explain things (in French of course) to those students who had never been there before. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on viewpoint, I was separated from my regular class to keep the numbers in balance for the audio tours. Each group had a guide, and once we had figured out the operation of the headsets, it was slightly surreal hearing her speak in one’s ear but being unable to demand questions when she was a good fifty paces away! The Bibliotheque is indeed, Grande- by the time we had traversed all five floors and learned about many of the areas previously (to me anyway) unknown, we were all exhausted and ready for lunch.

We walked the short but complex path to the University of Québec (Montréal) cafeteria. The place was packed, but we managed to find sufficient seats outside for most students, and I enjoyed conversing (or attempting to converse with) the students in the higher group. Though they have a greater command of grammar, it was good to be able to hold my own and have an interesting conversation, and even more gratifying that the Québecois students were willing to speak to us as well.

After dining, I and some others walked to the Exhibition of work and apprenticeship, which was held in the Palais de Congres, not far from the University. The salon was in its second and final day, but most exhibitors were still there, and I discovered much useful information, as well as handing in my CV to many promising employers. It seems that a university diploma is de rigeur here, and tempted me to pursue other careers in my mind; there are other diplomas much easier to complete, for which I could qualify immediately, but which ultimately would not result in an especially exciting workplace. I don’t actually crave excitement at work, but would like the different clientele, and the huge variety one gets as part of the territory of healthcare work. It was rewarding being able to speak Entirely in French, especially confidence building to be told that my French was more than adequate for the workplace! I presume this is because many of the nuances of grammar are lost in spoken French, but show up in written form!

Since our class mingled for half an hour with a class of Québecois sales students, I have found the everyday life at school, taking the bus, etc far more agreeable. I think the exercise succeeded on many levels; it encouraged us to socialise with our fellow scholars, it provided practise for speaking and comprehension, and it also started genuine friendships which help with the native-immigrant relationship. I am half wondering about either a teaching career or getting more involved with education, as I love the ability to discuss, debate, and simply just socialise with others. Until going to the immersion classes, I still felt something of a fish out of water in this very Francophone quarter, but now I have little or no confidence problems, and understand almost all of the gossip on the bus! I’m reluctant to repeat the experience of working in a call centre because of the crazy hours, and because I tire easily when speaking a lot, but I should like to get some part time work soon involving the use of what skills I do have.

With that, I shall conclude this most unusual (picture bereft) article; I took no pictures while at the library, and was glad not to have the extra weight of the camera, but at the same time, many of the impressions I carried away were verbal rather than visual. It is as though every week in life at present opens some new and interesting chapter in the grand book of history and present.

Autumn approaches

And with it the signs of autumn become more pronounced! We do not have a car, or means of getting out into the Eastern Townships to view the more spectacular change of colour of the majority of the trees here, but even the view from our balcony (above) is greatly beautified by the gold, red and yellow leaves. Last year proved rainy, and consequently rather devoid of colour as the leaves fell in one night, without turning appreciable shades of colour. This year is not disappointing so far, and the more obvious signs of autumn emphasise, for me, one of the main reasons I love living here. 

Other signs, less manifest, but nonetheless unmistakeable, are appearing too. At various hours during the night, one can awaken and listen to the heartbreakingly wild sound of the geese skeining away overhead, heading for warmer climes. The smaller birds are notable by their absence. The mornings are fresh and crisp, making even normal respiration a joy! Summer here is great, but it is best experienced in small doses, especially when on has no air conditioning. Another sign of the approaching winter is in the activities of the humans we share our city with, and our own habits; today I emptied our storage cabin in the yard and stowed away our two air conditioners along with our summer camping gear and the boxes from all the kitchen and household products we have been purchasing recently. At the same time, I also brought indoors our Christmas tree and decorations; not for me to go and dig the cabin out of three feet of snow to retrieve said tree in a couple of months! Although I hate severe weather for the disruption it wreaks on the transport system,  I do enjoy a real fall of snow, something I could not truly have said to have experienced last winter here! Using public transit is not very agreeable. but at least it saves buying a set of winter tyres, or defrosting a car each morning- worse still, having to dig a car out of a mountain of snow or move it at an insane hour of the day so as to avoid blocking the deneigement process! I particularly miss the freedom a car brings, the freedom to take a quick trip to the mountains in the weekend, or a short hop to the store for goods otherwise too bulky or heavy to transport by bike. I also dislike the buses for the frequent exchange of germs, and the lack of courtesy by certain people, which often staggers me. It would have been wonderful this past weekend, to load the camera and painting things in the car and take a trip to the amazing St Bruno or St Hilaire region before the leaves fall and the parks take on their drab winter look.

As far as other hobbies go, I am now equipped for painting and even have my first commission, although a charitable one. I will aim to complete it by deadline, as even donated works bring about an oeuvre for artists. Lack of materials, or money for materials, is the biggest worry, but I should be abiding by one of my parents’ rules, and “Do the best you can with the best you have”.

That may also include spending less time online, so without more ado, good night all, I hope to have more to say another time!

Integration is the name of the game.

And if the pleasant experience which terminated in the scene above was anything to go by, the Québec government have made an inspired decision in providing Francisation classes which mix so many diverse nationalities! In the photo above, one can find people not long out of their native Chile, Colombia, England, Sudan, Morocco, Afghanistan, Mexico, Poland, Peru, Ukraine, Russia and Venezuela. Placing these people in a classroom environment in itself is a great idea, especially as the number of different nationalities ensures that the classes are conducted solely in French- no room for lazy students to simply talk in their native language! An even better idea was to take all of the students, along with their professors, for an archetypal visit to the countryside: picking  apples. Along with the Sugar Shack, the apple picking season is a familial and group cultural event.

It was most encouraging to see how the bonds in the group formed so strongly, the class could be regarded more as a community than merely an academic exercise. The interest of speaking to others from completely different societies, backgrounds, and cultural levels, is compounded by the common goal of everyone, to better their French language knowledge. I have to say, that of all the educational experiences I have received in my lifetime, the time with this class has been the most motivating, interesting and also challenging. One seeks to retain one’s own identity and culture, while exploring and discovering that of others, and that of the land in which we find ourselves.

The visit in question occurred a little later in September than ideal, when the apples were, in some cases, too long on the tree, but there still remained plenty of choices for the pickers. An idiosyncratic yellow school bus collected us from the Ecole Pierre Dupuy on a grey and rather threatening morning. I was pleased to note that the orchard was in the same township as the orchard which Sylvie and I visited two years ago, in sight of the lonely mountain of St Bruno. The bus ride in itself was fun, as the seats are designed for smaller than average people (i.e., children!) and we each had a sheet of typical French “school bus” songs. The driver put up extremely well with our efforts, and the journey passed quickly and relatively painlessly for those with average leg length!

Once arrived at the orchards, time was not lost in exploring the orchards, interpreting the colour coding of the trees by species, by means of coloured ribbons. For me, choice was relatively simple, as I love the slightly tart and firm McIntosh variety. Other students had no idea what type of apple they preferred, or were not accustomed to the varieties available. Of course, in an orchard, apples were plentiful, and sampling was the best way to test!

Manuel Wilson (above) was very brave throughout, overcoming not only a cultural barrier but also lacking a limb. He had problems with his prosthetic leg, and left it at home, still managing to gather a respectable sized bag full of apples. Although the exercise was serious enough in purpose, people had a lot of fun, despite the rain lashing down after most of the pickers had full bags.

The bus rescued the students from a heavy rain shower, and dropped us at the store, which sold a variety of gifts, souvenirs, and of course fresh produce. For the brave, a hot dog stall sold a hot lunch, others brought along their own packed lunch. I did not see anyone silly enough to bring along apples in their packed lunch…

Split into our two classes, we voyaged back to the halfway house by tractor and trailer ride.  The trailer ride was fun, although it brought back a great sense of déjà vu, seeing immigrants ride out to the picking in this manner! Strange to think that I too was now an “immigrant”, not in my own country, and integrating with the culture of my adopted land. A pleasant, but reflective feeling.

At the end of the day, all returned to the school a little damp, but mission accomplished- each bearing the fruit of the day, a sack of apples!

Diversity

Is a feature of life, and a basic essential to the survival of any nation. True, the line between extremism and “acceptable” diversity is blurred by old racist attitudes, by political movement, and by society itself evolving. We were glad to spend a few hours of a gloriously sunny afternoon in a hitherto unexplored quarter of Montréal, soaking up a very different culture.

The building  above is the Church of Sainte Sophie, behind which we discovered the Park Ukraine. The festival has been a yearly fixture for the past twelve years, and well worth attending each time, in my humble opinion. While there was not a great deal of space for the activities and for there to be many stalls (for example, in comparison with the Turkish and Mexican festivals we enjoyed at the Parc Jean Drapeau… but it was a pleasant and extremely multicultural event. The sun shone from a cloudless September sky, although with none of the fierceness we experienced during this past summer, thankfully!

We arrived by combination of bus and Metro, not a pleasant experience in itself, but nonetheless, entertaining for a people-watcher!  The scene was filled with colour, and the pleasant odour of cooking food permeated the atmosphere. As well as stalls with traditional crafts, souvenirs of Ukrainian origin and of course the inevitable stalls for the sponsors, we discovered some more in depth experiences, such as the stall devoted to informing about a great cause which neither of us had previously encountered:

http://www.bearersoflove.org/

A worthwhile cause we wish we had more money and time to support, devoted to helping the less fortunate by the most sensible means possible, for example, buying shoes and locally made products for the people in need, thereby also contributing to the local economy rather than that of the donating country.

We discovered the usual nick-nack stores, some of which were vending really finely crafted products, not merely tee shirts with the slogan “Ukrainian Inside” and a “made in China” tag within…

Things on sale included the fine mohair scarves (above), beautiful miniature paintings worked on shell and wood, and finely crafted jewellery. There were also the ubiquitous wooden dolls, and Sylvie bought two keychain dolls… although only one layer, it turned out, they made a nice souvenir with a practical side!

The violinist, Vasyl Popadiuk, entertained us well on the stage, though the music was rather louder than necessary, and his stage performance a little unrehearsed! I rued the fact that I had not brought along my video camera, and even more so when the traditional dancing began, adding still more colour to the spectacle!

 

A traditional dancing troupe livened things up somewhat. (above)

Extremely small, extremely brave, this little 7 year old girl had the crowd cooing with approval at her performance (above)

We would have appreciated the music of this choir significantly more if we had a) understood the words, or b) had subtitles in the programme… but it was all good!

While I won’t foreseeably become a fan of Iryna Zinkovska, she was quite a hit with the crowd, with a melange of French and Russian songs.

 

So, all in all we had an enjoyable experience, marred only by the poor sound volume regulation and the hideous road work problems with public transport that delayed our return home by about an hour. September is without a doubt my favourite month of the year in Canada, based on the two that I have experienced here. The crisp blue skies, pure sunshine, the glut of fresh local fruit and vegetables, the fond and not too distant memories of the summer still lingering, and the ease of sleeping at night when the temperatures permit the use of open windows rather than air conditioning!

Change

With the approaching end of summer now in sight, I eagerly await the onset of autumn. True, nowhere near my present geographic location will offer the gentle pastoral scene above, but even on a different continent, the cooler temperature, blue skies, and amazing landscapes combine to  make autumn in Canada one of my favourite seasons. September is perhaps the most beautiful months in the continent of North America; it is a positive pleasure to wake early and to take a short pause on the balcony before the day begins, watching the occasional cloud rolling across the deep blue, freshly washed sky. Inspiration comes in spade loads at this time of year, and this year is no exception.

Apart from having commenced school for Francisation recently, which is proving to be a huge confidence and ego builder, other things have developed which combine to give me a good feeling. My dear wife made room in our budget to buy me a sketch book, and with the pencils I brought over from the UK,  and two willing feline models, I am enjoying practising my drawing skills again. This time, leaving the results on Facebook has provided me with valued (and ego-boosting!) feedback about my “skill” level, and encouraged me to continue, taking the hobby more seriously. Going back through my old photographs, I believe painting scenes from my old life in the UK will prove cathartic for any remaining traces of homesickness- as well as challenging my perception skills: how well do I remember those old stone buildings in Stamford? How many statues are there on the amazing West Front of Peterborough cathedral? True, I shall have to refer back to pictures more, but it will also encourage me to take in far more with my eyes!

Of course, I shall be using the sketch book to hone my skills, but as the picture above indicates, sometimes a sketch can become something almost worth displaying!

As a sketch or painting proves to one the utility of taking note of the surroundings, so does my class for language integration help me to appreciate the different people around me. I am not generally considered intolerant, but having a class of people around me, all of whom have something cultural and positive to share, makes one appreciate humanity in general. I am getting to know the individuals very well, and also to discover on a  personal level, the interesting facts about Morocco, Syria, Afghanistan, Venezuela, Colombia and Peru!

Although not amazing in quality, the above picture does show the amazing diversity when one encounters immigrants thrown together with a common objective! We have a lot of fun in class, as it is not all about academic exercises; I am excited to be one of those headed to the apple picking, when the whole of the FFL department will be travelling to an orchard for a day trip. We also have a visit to the libraries here as part of the group, and though for me that is a case of déjà vu, I still eagerly anticipate it! The apple picking day will bring back memories of 2008, when I spent an amazing day with my wife, picking quantities of gorgeous apples, followed by a gratis hog roast and hot dinner, all under the beautiful blue skies of Monterégie.

Island Trip

This week, we fulfilled yet another activity from our “to do” list; take a trip to the Iles de Boucherville, those mysterious green-clad islands which we see each time we take the bus along the riverside Highway 132 into Montréal.  A combination of YouTube videos and publicly shared pictures gave me a good idea of what to expect, and the new found freedom of having a bike meant that the trip was easily within reach when the weather was suitable. Tuesday dawned rain swept and stormy, but for Wednesday, the forecast was perfect; sunshine, some clouds and a pleasant breeze to make the heat tolerable.

We outfitted ourselves for the day, with one omission, neglecting to put on enough sun block; this was subsequently to prove a significant omission! The rest of our prep included packing fresh fruit and vegetables, picnic chicken and utensils, and checking the bikes (as mine was less than a week old, the checks seemed superfluous, but old habits die hard). We set out at half past ten, knowing the ferry was scheduled to leave the jetty by Old Boucherville on each hour.

There was a substantial queue of bikes and foot passengers waiting on the jetty when we arrived, and when the boat finally docked, the queue numbered around 30 bikes and several push chairs. We were more than a little disappointed to learn that the boat only accommodated a maximum of 12 cycles and the same number of passengers, and thus we were unable to catch the next shuttle; we were even more alarmed when the boat, on its return, roared off in the direction of Longueuil, more than 2km down the river. Apparently the boat was covering not only its own schedule but that of another, downriver, and the crew were having to juggle demand. We waited almost an hour for the boat to collect its complement from Longueuil and shuttle them to the islands, while the queue lengthened behind us. Eventually we were able to board the part-inflatable craft, and the crew were unsparing of the horses on the short 1/2 km trip.

 

We enjoyed a brief view of the old quarter of Boucherville as the boat churned past the jetty, and this offset the dubious choice of music blaring from the speaker in the passenger well of the boat. It felt exciting to finally be heading to the more natural environment of the islands, even if only for a few hours; the positive anticipation helped us to forget the roasting which our shoulders and necks had received while waiting for the boat on the exposed jetty.

The island on which we landed was, as expected, shrouded in greenery, and the gravel cycle paths meandered through both leafy woodland and broad expanses of goldenrod. I had never seen so much of this plant, oftimes regarded in England as an invasive weed, nor so many specimens of the Monkey Tree/ tree of heaven, whose leaves were beginning to turn crimson in places.

We encountered only one animal on our first circuit, some kind of Vole which made an aborted attempt to run in front of Sylvie’s bike on a stretch of path. There were no signs of the coyote, foxes or owls promised in the guide book, and no sign of bears, which was a personal joke between us. We picnicked in the Island on which we landed, the northernmost of the archipelago. Fellow cyclists were more of an irritation than insect life, especially those unfamiliar with cycling etiquette or the basic safety rules needed to cycle properly.

Once we had eaten the bulk of our picnic and cleaned up responsibly, we continued to explore. This collection of islands is linked by both bridges and cable ferries. Taking the ferry was a fascinating experience, especially speculating on what lurked in the river below!

We toured gently around the remaining islands, which were linked to the mainland through bridges, and through the Louis Lafontaine tunnel. The lower half of the group was more tourist orientated, with a visitor centre, a display of stuffed examples of the local fauna, and the ubiquitous picnic areas. We encountered one example of the local deer, which was singularly unimpressed with my request for it to pose for a photo, although it was completely unafraid of the humans who stopped to admire it.

Feeling tired, and by now a little overheated, we headed back to the ferry point, having enjoyed a thoroughly refreshing experience in the countryside- in fact, less than a mile from Montréal’s docks and oil refinery! Although perhaps not on a par with one’s expectations of Canada, or experiences of walking and cycling in the English countryside, the experience was well worth the relief from living in a built up area, and helped release a lot of pent-up energy. It is late in the season to be experimenting with these experiences, but we are at least working slowly through our bucket list and enjoying ourselves in the process!