Week Two in Quebec

My first week is over and the excitement is wearing off as I become accustomed to my new routine. Working takes up about the same hours as school (9-5 instead of 9-3) minus the homework, so instead of homework I started reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix in French. Go Harry Potter! My work day begins with taking the little kids, dressed in frilly pink Dora the Explorer suits or surfer swim shorts, outside so that they can enjoy the plastic splashing tubs. On special occasions, we get out the inflatable water slide. Every time I see the slide I start salivating and have to repeatedly remind myself that I weigh quite a bit more than 100 lbs. In the afternoons, after a two hour nap, I draw colouring pages for the kids to destroy (they haven’t developed their motor control skills yet). The kids, meanwhile, provide me with entertainment. Last week they asked me if I “was able to talk like them.“ I wasn’t sure how to take that comment. The work isn’t particularly hard and the kids are nice as long as they aren’t bickering but nothing significant changes day to day. I have a hard time understanding how the monitors can do the same job for 10 years. After less than two weeks, I am already bored. My teachers, if they are reading this, can be pleased to know that I am appreciating the variety of activities school provides quite a lot more right now.

 

On Wednesdays, Saturdays, and Sundays, the YMCA organizes activities for the entire group. Yesterday, I went go-carting and last week I went to Cirque du Soleil, participated in an amazing race through Montreal, and visited Mont Tremblant, which is Quebec`s version of Whistler. Everything at Mont Tremblant was absurdly priced (it cost adults 15 dollars to go on the beach). Cirque du Soleil, on the other hand, was absolutely amazing. A woman managed to throw bowls from her feet onto her head, where she caught them, while riding a unicycle!

 

My new family is really nice but not remarkable. It is strange to go from wacko (I had to remind my mother to hide the salvaged raccoon pelt hanging in the shed before my replacement arrived) to average. I have a middle-aged mother who does pilates and works at a senior’s center. My sister is 21, in the process of moving out, and enjoys singing Celine Dion. My comfortable suburban house has no garden, no over-energetic pets, and is decorated with hotel-style artwork. The dishes and cutlery come from Ikea and the furniture and cabinets all match. Though there is nothing wrong with the house or the family, I miss the hectic character of my real home. My house is loud and a bit disorganized but so is my family and so we get along well. I feel that my new house could belong to anyone.  

 

So far, I haven’t found St. Jerome, Quebec to be all that different from Vancouver. Like I mentioned in my first blog post, the streets and houses are the same and the people, minus the racial diversity, look the same, too. However, I have noticed a sense of community here that I don’t feel back home. People feel distinctly “Quebecois“ (often at the expense of being Canadian) and that gives a communal identity to rally around. I don’t even know how I would describe somebody from British Columbia – a British Columbian? That sounds awkward. I identify myself as Canadian but, recognizing the size of our Country, it is much harder for that word to encompass one identity than it is for the word Quebecois. It would be more appropriate for me to label myself as a west coast suburban Canadian who leans more to the left than the right. The unity of spirit in Quebec is something Vancouver, and I would say the rest of Canada, lacks. I don’t think it is something we can gain, though, without being, like Quebec, a minority fighting for the survival of our culture.

 

Work starts again in fifteen minutes so goodbye for now. Until next week!