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!