Ste-Croix has had 167 centimeters of snow this season to date. I couldn't even tell yesterday, because it was just a complete white-out, but they got 2 new feet of snow. I woke up this morning to a snow drift taller than me on the back porch.
Did I mention it's not officially winter yet?
The good news is road crews are on the BALL. The streets were already clear by noon. Because of this, I'll be leaving the Great White North tomorrow morning for the Big Freaking City. Really, the only city. Oh, my precious New York. Internet will be spotty as my grandfather know not the fancy computing machine, but my cell phone will be back. TEXTING.
So, tomorrow is an 8 hour drive to Little Ferry, NJ. But, Wednesday means the American Museum of Natural History, the best museum in the history of the museum! HOW EXCITED AM I!?!
Also exciting is that I'll be picking up Maria from the Long Island airport in 11 days. And I'll picking up my boyfriend from the same airport sometime after that. This is great news!
But the most exciting thing of all, the thing that I just cannot wait for right now, the reason I probably won't be able to sleep tonight... ENGLISH TOMORROW.
Showing posts with label ste-croix. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ste-croix. Show all posts
12.17.2007
12.16.2007
Invisible airwaves.
First off, I have to tell you I've been listening to a ridiculous amount of Styx, Rush and Van Halen. Thank you, Freaks and Geeks.
And now, have some photos of Ste-Croix.
My street:
The main street:
Tree:
Hidden fire hydrant. With a tall sign so you can find it if you need to.
French Canadian road sign.
Catholic church, part 1:
Catholic church, part 2:
Catholic church, part 3:
And now, have some photos of Ste-Croix.
My street:
The main street:
Tree:
Hidden fire hydrant. With a tall sign so you can find it if you need to.
French Canadian road sign.
Catholic church, part 1:
Catholic church, part 2:
Catholic church, part 3:
12.12.2007
An excellent movie!
I think I’ve talked a lot on here about the “Ohh!”s and the “Ahh!”s of Canada and Quebec. All the pretty pictures, the food, the differences. But what’s this really like for me?
To begin with, this is currently where I am in the grand scheme of the world. As you can see, I’m about as far north as the tip of Maine.
Just right off the fleuve Saint-Laurent (the Saint Lawrence River). I’m about half an hour from Quebec City and 2 hours from Montreal. Sainte-Croix has a population of about 2,300; it’s the size of Maxwell. It has a furniture factory and a few big farms (including the infamous pig farm!). It’s also the site of the public schools for 7 other small towns in the area. It’s known for its gardens in the summer and it has the biggest, most ornate Catholic church I’ve ever seen in a small town.
It’s cold. I mean, really flipping cold. I’ve been through some cold winters in Raton. I’ve seen my fair share of 6 foot snow drifts and I’ve had a few days off from school in a row. But here, it’s just such a completely different kind of cold. It does not get above freezing the entire winter. Their first frost was months ago. It kind of just snows all the time. I think 5 out of the 7 days I’ve been here, I’ve seen snow fall. But the air, the air is so cold. It’s about 90% humidity on any given day. Taking a breath fells like pneumonia every time you’re outside.
People have these temporary car ports and porches made out of tarps and beams in front of their house, just because it reduces the amount of shoveling they have to do. That’s the other thing, you wake up and shovel your driveway. It’s just a given. Interestingly enough, SUV’s aren’t popular here. Good tires on little cars: very popular.
The snow just stays all winter. It never gets hot enough for it to melt. It’ll be here til March, all two feet of it, plus whatever else they get. It’s like a ski resort. It's also interesting that the sun sets at about 4:00 here. It's pitch black by 5:00.
So, that’s been interesting to adjust to. Most people just stay inside as much as possible. I’m really freaking glad I spent $50 on that coat from Old Navy, because if I hadn’t, I’d have frost bite by now. I also have decided I really should have invested in a really warm beanie and an awesome seat of gloves before I left. Wal Mart outerwear ain’t cutting it.
But, I don’t mind the cold. It’s a lot easier to get warm in the winter than to cool off in the summer. It’s just that first minute of when you leave your house… that my friends, is unbearable.
So, there’s the weather. And there’s the language.
Never have I been to a foreign country where a language other than English is the primary language (unless you could Hecho N K-Za shows). I think I’d be okay going to Mexico or anywhere in Latin America. I’ve got enough Spanish down that I’d get by, pretty well actually. My French, on the other hand… it’s damn embarrassing. And for several reasons. The first, of course I just don’t know any French. Which was kind of dumb of me to come all the way up here, knowing it’s a French speaking country and not try to learn at least a little bit. And the second, when you get up into these little villages, outside of the big cities, they hate English speakers. I really can not stress that enough. As angry as I used to get when a Mexican would cuss me out in Spanish at the bar for not knowing their language, that’s how angry people get when I open my mouth here. I’ve been sheltered from it a lot, as my family are the nicest people I have ever met and they want nothing more than for me to feel completely at home. But, I’m not retarded. The looks people give me at the Post Office or at the mechanics yesterday (more about that later) are enough to burn me into the damn ground.
There’s several reasons for it. One, would you like a language that conquered you? No. You would not. Two, as my cousin Lucie put it, lots of French Canadians can speak English. Almost no English Canadians can speak French. And three, the biggie, the immigration.
I guess I’ve always been used to it, having immigrants come to where I live. And I am all for letting any person who wants to be able to gain citizenship. It’s kind of a given that if you want to immigrate to the United States, you should probably know some basic English. Here, no. The immigrants come in, from the United States, mind you, and all they want to speak is English. And they’re winning out.
Slowly, but ever so surely, the numbers of English speakers are growing. Only 80% of the country know considers French to be their primary language. That is unheard of. There’s definitely a subset of the population, mostly in Montreal that doesn’t seem to care. English or French, it makes no difference. But in Quebec City, people care a whole lot. So much in fact, Quebec has tried to break away from Canada and become its own separate nation a few times. It never quite makes it. And with the number of English speakers growing and growing, it never will.
The other issue is the public schools. There are public schools for English speakers, as per Canadian law. BUT, Quebec law states that your children must attend a French speaking primary school. (This is another important thing: Criminal law in Quebec is exactly the same as the rest of Canada. Civil law, on the other hand, is completely different. While they weren’t able to ratify a complete separation from Canada, they were able to ratify an independent civil government.) You can send your kids to an English school if you send one of them to an English private school, from whatever age. Then, the rest of your kids can go to English schools. Lots and lots of people are starting to do this, as immigrants are having children. So, a lot of people in Quebec are watching their language die.
I know a lot of people don’t see the big deal. But it is a huge deal here. Quebec is a very proud nation. The QUEBECOIS are extremely proud of their heritage, since, like I said, most of them got here on a boat 300 years ago. It’s like 505 pride times ten. Possibly losing their language is losing a huge part of their culture.
So, it’s kind of sad for me to watch. But maybe even sadder that this is my heritage and I can’t speak the language either.
So, on top of all of this, I’ve never been close with my family. I’ve been so far away from them, yes, but, just like any other family, there were a lot of disagreements, and a history of mental illness I would argue, that kept (and keeps a lot of us) apart. So, here I am, confronting years of fighting that I never understood. I get here, and they’re all so loving and accepting that it almost hurts me that this part of my life was missing for so long. And now, that it’s here, I almost don’t know what to do with it.
I’ve always made my own family, because they’ve been so far away. I have some of the most amazing friends turned family that a girl could ask for. You know who you are and you’ve seen me through so much over the years. Those relationships are the best I’ve ever had, because, of course, they’re by choice and not by blood. But, just to walk into an environment and be handed that instantly; it’s shocking. And a part of me doubts it, just because it hasn’t been time tested. Maybe they’ll be done with me after I leave. But an even bigger part of me doesn’t want this to ever leave. So, all in all, I’ve had a really emotional week.
I guess what this really is, is step one. Etape Une! I have to come back. I will be back. I can’t think of this as the one time, the one chance I’m going to get. I’d really like to find an intensive French program through one of the colleges that I can afford. There are lots and lots of them, but they’re fairly expensive. So, probably not this summer, but maybe the one after. I’d love to bring my mom up here for Christmas next year.
And THAT’S what I think about that.
And now why was my truck at the car hospital? I've had an issue with my windshield wiper fluid for I don't even know how long. Years. It just doesn't come out. In New Mexico, it's not a big deal. My windshield is just normally a graveyard for bugs. But here, it's pretty important. With all the snow and muck and the semis spraying it everywhere. Turns out, the tube that feeds the fluid was pinched shut from a collision I had years ago. HUH.
To begin with, this is currently where I am in the grand scheme of the world. As you can see, I’m about as far north as the tip of Maine.
Just right off the fleuve Saint-Laurent (the Saint Lawrence River). I’m about half an hour from Quebec City and 2 hours from Montreal. Sainte-Croix has a population of about 2,300; it’s the size of Maxwell. It has a furniture factory and a few big farms (including the infamous pig farm!). It’s also the site of the public schools for 7 other small towns in the area. It’s known for its gardens in the summer and it has the biggest, most ornate Catholic church I’ve ever seen in a small town.
It’s cold. I mean, really flipping cold. I’ve been through some cold winters in Raton. I’ve seen my fair share of 6 foot snow drifts and I’ve had a few days off from school in a row. But here, it’s just such a completely different kind of cold. It does not get above freezing the entire winter. Their first frost was months ago. It kind of just snows all the time. I think 5 out of the 7 days I’ve been here, I’ve seen snow fall. But the air, the air is so cold. It’s about 90% humidity on any given day. Taking a breath fells like pneumonia every time you’re outside.
People have these temporary car ports and porches made out of tarps and beams in front of their house, just because it reduces the amount of shoveling they have to do. That’s the other thing, you wake up and shovel your driveway. It’s just a given. Interestingly enough, SUV’s aren’t popular here. Good tires on little cars: very popular.
The snow just stays all winter. It never gets hot enough for it to melt. It’ll be here til March, all two feet of it, plus whatever else they get. It’s like a ski resort. It's also interesting that the sun sets at about 4:00 here. It's pitch black by 5:00.
So, that’s been interesting to adjust to. Most people just stay inside as much as possible. I’m really freaking glad I spent $50 on that coat from Old Navy, because if I hadn’t, I’d have frost bite by now. I also have decided I really should have invested in a really warm beanie and an awesome seat of gloves before I left. Wal Mart outerwear ain’t cutting it.
But, I don’t mind the cold. It’s a lot easier to get warm in the winter than to cool off in the summer. It’s just that first minute of when you leave your house… that my friends, is unbearable.
So, there’s the weather. And there’s the language.
Never have I been to a foreign country where a language other than English is the primary language (unless you could Hecho N K-Za shows). I think I’d be okay going to Mexico or anywhere in Latin America. I’ve got enough Spanish down that I’d get by, pretty well actually. My French, on the other hand… it’s damn embarrassing. And for several reasons. The first, of course I just don’t know any French. Which was kind of dumb of me to come all the way up here, knowing it’s a French speaking country and not try to learn at least a little bit. And the second, when you get up into these little villages, outside of the big cities, they hate English speakers. I really can not stress that enough. As angry as I used to get when a Mexican would cuss me out in Spanish at the bar for not knowing their language, that’s how angry people get when I open my mouth here. I’ve been sheltered from it a lot, as my family are the nicest people I have ever met and they want nothing more than for me to feel completely at home. But, I’m not retarded. The looks people give me at the Post Office or at the mechanics yesterday (more about that later) are enough to burn me into the damn ground.
There’s several reasons for it. One, would you like a language that conquered you? No. You would not. Two, as my cousin Lucie put it, lots of French Canadians can speak English. Almost no English Canadians can speak French. And three, the biggie, the immigration.
I guess I’ve always been used to it, having immigrants come to where I live. And I am all for letting any person who wants to be able to gain citizenship. It’s kind of a given that if you want to immigrate to the United States, you should probably know some basic English. Here, no. The immigrants come in, from the United States, mind you, and all they want to speak is English. And they’re winning out.
Slowly, but ever so surely, the numbers of English speakers are growing. Only 80% of the country know considers French to be their primary language. That is unheard of. There’s definitely a subset of the population, mostly in Montreal that doesn’t seem to care. English or French, it makes no difference. But in Quebec City, people care a whole lot. So much in fact, Quebec has tried to break away from Canada and become its own separate nation a few times. It never quite makes it. And with the number of English speakers growing and growing, it never will.
The other issue is the public schools. There are public schools for English speakers, as per Canadian law. BUT, Quebec law states that your children must attend a French speaking primary school. (This is another important thing: Criminal law in Quebec is exactly the same as the rest of Canada. Civil law, on the other hand, is completely different. While they weren’t able to ratify a complete separation from Canada, they were able to ratify an independent civil government.) You can send your kids to an English school if you send one of them to an English private school, from whatever age. Then, the rest of your kids can go to English schools. Lots and lots of people are starting to do this, as immigrants are having children. So, a lot of people in Quebec are watching their language die.
I know a lot of people don’t see the big deal. But it is a huge deal here. Quebec is a very proud nation. The QUEBECOIS are extremely proud of their heritage, since, like I said, most of them got here on a boat 300 years ago. It’s like 505 pride times ten. Possibly losing their language is losing a huge part of their culture.
So, it’s kind of sad for me to watch. But maybe even sadder that this is my heritage and I can’t speak the language either.
So, on top of all of this, I’ve never been close with my family. I’ve been so far away from them, yes, but, just like any other family, there were a lot of disagreements, and a history of mental illness I would argue, that kept (and keeps a lot of us) apart. So, here I am, confronting years of fighting that I never understood. I get here, and they’re all so loving and accepting that it almost hurts me that this part of my life was missing for so long. And now, that it’s here, I almost don’t know what to do with it.
I’ve always made my own family, because they’ve been so far away. I have some of the most amazing friends turned family that a girl could ask for. You know who you are and you’ve seen me through so much over the years. Those relationships are the best I’ve ever had, because, of course, they’re by choice and not by blood. But, just to walk into an environment and be handed that instantly; it’s shocking. And a part of me doubts it, just because it hasn’t been time tested. Maybe they’ll be done with me after I leave. But an even bigger part of me doesn’t want this to ever leave. So, all in all, I’ve had a really emotional week.
I guess what this really is, is step one. Etape Une! I have to come back. I will be back. I can’t think of this as the one time, the one chance I’m going to get. I’d really like to find an intensive French program through one of the colleges that I can afford. There are lots and lots of them, but they’re fairly expensive. So, probably not this summer, but maybe the one after. I’d love to bring my mom up here for Christmas next year.
And THAT’S what I think about that.
And now why was my truck at the car hospital? I've had an issue with my windshield wiper fluid for I don't even know how long. Years. It just doesn't come out. In New Mexico, it's not a big deal. My windshield is just normally a graveyard for bugs. But here, it's pretty important. With all the snow and muck and the semis spraying it everywhere. Turns out, the tube that feeds the fluid was pinched shut from a collision I had years ago. HUH.
12.10.2007
Fin du monde.
Snow-shoeing in the "back yard":
Even if you're a bee.
PS. If Mike Huckabee is our next president, I'm learning french and moving to Quebec. I vow to it here and now.
12.09.2007
Dee N Eh.
This is my great grandmother Zenaide Columbe. She had 6 children with Oregene Leclerc. She passed away before the time any of them had reached puberty.
My namesake, Oregene's sister Catherine Leclerc stepped in and helped raise them. This is Catherine and my grandfather.
One of the children she helped raise was my grandmother, Clothshide. She hated her name and demanded to be called Claudette until the day she died. Her and my mother never got along and they had their reasons, too. I never really resented her, I just didn't know her. In fact, I only met her once when I was 18 months old.
This is her when she was 18 in Quebec City. That photograph was the first time I've ever felt any personal connection to her. Maybe, just maybe, there's a little bit of her in me.
12.07.2007
English Immigrants.
How to be French Canadian, or a Québécois.
Part One: If you are elderly and French Canadian, offer food to anyone. If you are young and French Canadian, always except food. If you don't, it seems you offend people. I have never been so full in my whole life.
Part Two: Never, ever wear outdoor shoes inside a building. 90% of the time, there is a basket full of slippers near the front door of the house. Those slippers are very important. And pretty adorable.
Part Three: You better be Catholic.
Part Four: Drink a lot of coffee. This is unfortunate because my stomach cannot handle coffee. I haven't had that much caffeine since the infamous No Doze incident in high school, which resulted in vomiting by rail road tracks. So today, after 6 years and no coffee, I figured I'd try it. Dang, it was good. But dang, did I feel like I had kidney stones for about an hour. I guess this means I'm not French Canadian. People here drink about 8 cups a day. This is also why I can never work on a film production.
Part Five: It's kind of mandatory that your ancestors had to sail down this river to get here. They DO NOT like immigrants, especially those who speak English. My family sailed down the fleuve Saint-Laurent 350 years ago.
Part One: If you are elderly and French Canadian, offer food to anyone. If you are young and French Canadian, always except food. If you don't, it seems you offend people. I have never been so full in my whole life.
Part Two: Never, ever wear outdoor shoes inside a building. 90% of the time, there is a basket full of slippers near the front door of the house. Those slippers are very important. And pretty adorable.
Part Three: You better be Catholic.
Part Four: Drink a lot of coffee. This is unfortunate because my stomach cannot handle coffee. I haven't had that much caffeine since the infamous No Doze incident in high school, which resulted in vomiting by rail road tracks. So today, after 6 years and no coffee, I figured I'd try it. Dang, it was good. But dang, did I feel like I had kidney stones for about an hour. I guess this means I'm not French Canadian. People here drink about 8 cups a day. This is also why I can never work on a film production.
Part Five: It's kind of mandatory that your ancestors had to sail down this river to get here. They DO NOT like immigrants, especially those who speak English. My family sailed down the fleuve Saint-Laurent 350 years ago.
12.05.2007
From the zia to the fleur-de-lis.
This is what it looks like when you're waiting for customs to inspect your vehicle.
WHO GOT RED FLAGGED AT THE BORDER?
I know! That girl with all kinds of metal in her face, about 16 bags in the cab of her truck with NM tags.
Really, I wasn't shocked.
And it wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. The first lady I talked to, the one who flagged me, asked me about 70 billion questions that didn't matter. "Do you have a phone number for the person you're visiting?" "Why are you unemployed?" "What did you study in school?" "Do you speak french?" Huh?
The kicker was when she asked if I had brought any gifts with me for my family. I said yes, I went to Buffet's Candies and bought two small containers of salted, roasted pinon nuts. That blew her brain. "How many?" "What are they?" "Are you planning on planting them?" I guess that was the "reason" I got flagged.
It's kinda weird to watch two complete strangers (one of them looked A LOT like Paul, kinda freaked me out) rifle through your stuff. I have a lot of stuff with me; all the things I need to live for 3 months. And they went through every, single pocket of every single bag. It took a while. Once they found the nuts and saw how small they were, they just laughed. I did too.
After the car search, I had to go to the immigration office where they ran my passport and my driver's license, to see if I really was a drug dealer. Thankfully, it only took a few minutes, and I was terrified I was going to be there for a while. Every single person in the waiting room, with the exception of an Arabic man, was sleeping.
Ontario looks a whole lot like an Ohio or a Indiana; rolling plains, lots of farm, small pockets of industrialized cities. Interestingly enough, all motel rooms in Canada are about $80. Except for those in Niagara Falls. So, I went there.
There's something... hidden... in the mist!
It's a waterfall!
I didn't stay too, too long by the falls. It was cold. Not like, you know, "Oh golly, I need a warm coat" kind of cold. No, no, no. Like, I'm sure if I would have opened my mouth for more than 30 seconds, my tongue would have frozen off. They're wasn't much open, either. Most of the attractions around the falls cost money (which I have even less off after my power adapter for my computer tried to kill my motherboard. $95 for a REFURBISHED one, since they don't make my adapter anymore. WRATH.) and a lot of them were closed for the season.
I did feed this very gull some bread from my sandwich that I got from the Tim Hortons.
Check out that coating of ice. That's from... the mist.
I didn't take any pictures, but all around Niagara Falls are these touristy things, since, obviously, it's a touristy place (says the tourist). Ripley's has a museum, there's a couple wax figure places, even a Hard Rock Cafe. All that sort of stuff kinda turned me off. I wished the falls could have been preserved like the Grand Canyon. Not to mention, parking's a mother. But, if you're in the area, I'd give a viewing.
Good morning, eh.
I woke up an hour late yesterday morning, because my body just would NOT move. It knew I had a 9 hour drive today and it wasn't excited about it. At all.
Most of my drive looked a whole lot like this, but more overcast. Toronto's a monster of a city. I didn't get to see downtown, but I sure was a fan of their 7 lane highways and lane restrictions for semis. A lot of industrial Ontario has huge car plants, some about the same size as the Ford plant in Detroit.
I'm proclaiming this my official Welcome to Canada, Eh" photo. Customs was fun, but not that fun.
And this...
My official Welcome to Quebec photo!
Sadly, most of my Quebec drive was dark, because I spent 2 FREAKING HOURS stuck in traffic in Montreal. I was really excited about seeing that city, I've heard amazing things about the architecture and punk scene. But, none of that was evident on the route google maps gave me. I did spend a good 15 minutes right next to a Kraft plant.
But, the biggest thing I noticed: the language shift. Sup, french. I knew this is a French speaking country. I know most of my relatives don't speak a word of english, but I thought there would at least be some bilingual stuff closer to the bigger cities. Nope. Not even a little bit. Don't know French? Good luck.
I guess that over 20% of the population here doesn't speak French. This is a HUGE deal, when you think about "dying cultures", all the linguistics stuff my boyfriend is currently giggling about. I think it's an even bigger deal when every road sign is in French. But more than that, there seems to be this mounting animosity against English speakers. I got the stink eye when I bought gas 50 km outside of Montreal. Why no, I don't know how to say "pump" in French. Merci.
But, I am trying. It'll be interesting to see how much I pick up. I've never been fully immersed in such a different culture. Well, at least when the language is different. I'm staying with my mom's cousin Rene and his wife Suzanne. They're about my mom's age and they've been so, so welcoming, trying their best to make conversation in broken english. They've got three kids who are about my age.
I'm hoping for good weather on the 9th, so I can venture the additional 50 km to Quebec City to see Big D and the Kids Table. Did I mention there's 2 feet of snow on the ground right now? Thankfully, they've got road clean up down to a science. Other than that, I don't have a lot of set plans while I'm in the great, white north. I'll be meeting lots of family who speak absolutely no english and eating lots of home cooking. There's a menu for the week posted on the fridge. Almost as adorable as the McHughes cereal bowl.
I'm happy to be here. But, exhausted from driving. Mileage logged on the truck for this trip is approaching 3,000. I think I'll appreciate this all so much more when I get some good rest.
I leave you with a French Canadian bird house.
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