I've always wanted to be a francophone HEATHER DAVIS
I've been in Quebec for two months now and I've already been through a lot of changes. But when I think of what is still to come, sometimes I want to close my eyes and remember the mountains, the ocean, and the forests of the province that will always be my home.
We were in the middle of both October and British Columbia when we decided -- just like that -- to pack up and move across the country. It's not that I hadn't enjoyed the last 26 years of my life in BC, it's that I had always harbored a secret wish -- I wanted to be a francophone.
Although I was born in Montreal, I am the only true Westerner in my family. My mother even taught French immersion. But I couldn't order French Toast to save my life. I spent my time hiking and camping, wearing a Gore-Tex jacket. But I longed to be part of the secret club - people who conversed in this alternate tongue.
One day I met Ghislain who had left Drummondville 8 years earlier to travel the country and learn English. We had a lot in common. He was French, and I wanted to be. If it weren't for him, I'm sure I would never have moved -- I had never thought of leaving BC.
Once we had decided, preparing for the move was fun -- especially quitting our jobs. Then we held a big sale to get rid of the useless contents of our house. I was somewhat disturbed at my joy in packing up and moving on. How would I feel when I got there? Would I be glad or was it just a trick of my psyche that I liked the leaving part of moving?
Well, I knew I would soon find out so we threw the huskies in the car, strapped the dogsled, bike, and all our skis to the roof, and took off. I was excited. After all, I had a lot to look forward to, right? Cheap rent, character houses, Ghis' family, maple syrup, buckwheat pancakes, and no grizzly bears. Best of all, new places where I'd never been.
So what if I hadn't practiced any French. I wasn't worried. I had the whole drive to practice.
Copyright © 2000 Heather Davis/Log Cabin Chronicles/01.2000 |
