Rural Quebec makes the most isolated parts of Britain look positively urban. Today I walked an hour and a half to get the the nearest bus stop. Then waited an hour for the bus. It's hardly surprising everyone drives over here when it's nigh on impossible to get anywhere by any other means. Especially when being a pedestrian means taking your life in your hands going head to head with the monster trucks that pass for cars. But still, I made it to the city, got me some free internet, and here I am, updating the chronicles of my life au Canada. It's been a pretty eventful week so far and the weekend is only just starting!
We had a long weekend here last weekend because of the Labo(u)r Day holiday on Monday, so on Saturday I went shopping in a real mall! Although lack of a Canadian bank account and not having been paid limited my spending somewhat. Boo hoo. Then on Sunday my landlord took me with his family up to their chalet in the mountains, to get everything ready for hunting season, or if we're going to be all franglais about it, la chasse. I got taught to fire a crossbow (in case of bears - they especially like to eat English people apparently) and drive the quad bike around the forest for a while, before we all headed back down to the village for a barbecue with yet more of my landlords extended family (they make up most of the population, so it seems). The barbecue was great, wasps and midges aside, we had home grown corn on the cob - freshly harvested and complete with complementary caterpillars, and hot dogs washed down with barrelfuls of beer. As it started to get cold the kids decided to see which items of rubbish would burn best on the campfire, with such success that we all had to stand back several feet to prevent serious burns!
The rest of the week has passed without much worthy of note, I met some more classes at school, worked out where the photocopiers were and how to use them (exciting, I know) and I walked round the village a lot to get my bearings. It didn't take long! One thing worthy of a mention perhaps is my initiation into Canadian society (and no, not just eating poutine, although this is a right of passage in itself). I got my social insurance number and opened a bank account on Thursday. And I managed the whole process in French, so I left the bank feeling pretty proud of myself and my prowess at languages. Only to be brought back down to earth when someone asked me for the time and I hadn't a clue what he wanted. I blame the accent, not my undeniable mastery of the French language.
Now I'm taking advantage of the free Wifi in the youth hostel in Old Quebec, before heading out to meet up with the other assistants. In times of celebration, we all converge on the capital for much banter and swap experiences of our respective outposts. Somewhat ironic (or perhaps inappropriate) as this weekend the Quebecers are "celebrating" the anniversary of the defeat of the city (and consequently, the whole of Canada) by the British. A strange thing for French Canadians to celebrate? We'll see. I'll let you know soon!
A bientôt!
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