Busted!

I got a traffic ticket today! How so, you might ask, being that I use public transportation? The answer is JAYWALKING! That's right freakin' jaywalking! Apparently the police are on a campaign this week to protect the safety of the "piéton" (pedestrian)...Nobody informed ME!

By the way, out of the half a dozen or so people to whom I mentioned this news, all locals, NONE of them has EVER known anyone who got a ticket for jaywalking!


These law-abiding citizens shown crossing le chemin Queen Mary last November waited for the little white man to light up before they crossed.

Alas, tomorrow, I shall do the same.

Signs of Spring

Yes, seriously...here are a few reasons that I know spring is here despite the massive amounts of snow that remain (melting more and more everyday!):

First of all, there's Poisson d'avril:

In French this means April fish and it is the equivalent of April Fool's day. April 1st was a Tuesday this year, and therefore a regular school day. In the five minutes I had in my classroom before my students arrived I managed to:
1) turn a few of their desks around facing the back of the room. Most of them noticed but one went to nonchalantly put a book away and it fell to the floor because the closed front was where the open back usually is.
2) turned a painting of a fern upside-down. One by one during the day someone would spontaneously say "Hey the picture's upside-down." One of the extremely rare times when their inability to pay attention when their classmates speak paid off.
3) switched the drinking cups to the shelf where the bowls go and vice versa...this one was pretty effective and we haven't switched them back yet for some reason.
4) switched the chairs of the tallest student in the class and the smallest (who was away on a trip). This one was the best--she sat down with a thud and then, laughing, said "Hey Madaaaaame!"

The actual tradition of "poisson d'avril" involves making a fish out of paper and sticking it on someone's back without them noticing (often after having written a silly little "kick me" or "I pick my nose" type comment on it). It was a rainy day so recess was indoors and my students got pretty riled up by this particular activity, as you can imagine.


Otherwise, their jokes were along the lines of "look over there Madame, there's someone at the door...(pause while I obligingly look...), poisson d'avril!" Kind of like a "made-ya-look" gag. Found this info on a "geocites" webpage:

...dating back to the 16th century when Charles IX, following the Gregorian Calendar, decreed Jan 1st as New Year's Day, rather than April 1st, (Solstice). Those who didn't follow the new calendar were called "fools" and sent invitations to fake parties and the like. French children fool their friends by taping a paper fish to their friends' backs--when discovered, the child (who taped the fish) cries

"Poisson d'avril!"

Why the connection to fish? Some believe that it's because the sun is leaving the zodiacal sign of Pisces at this time. Some think it's because it was not permitted to fish at this time of the year. Others say it's because some fish are pretty dumb and easy to catch!"

Hmm don't know about that last reason...Bo says it's actually the most likely true explanation and that in French someone who is gullible is sometimes referred to as a "poisson."

***

Secondly, asphalt. I never thought I'd be so happy just to see asphalt. It's been a long time my dirty gray friend. FYI, potholes in French are called nids de poule, which means "chicken nests" and is pronounced "needapool." Apparently Montreal is known for having lots of nids de poule and for not being so great about fixing them.

Thirdly, birds. Lots of them, they're springy and they sing. Except for the seagulls. They screech and they're garbage pickers.

Fourthly, flowers. Yesterday I saw little yellow crocuses, just like these, peeking out of the earth in a very sunny spot. I've also seen the beginnings of tulip leaves and other spring perennials fighting their way through the debris left behind by the snow melt.

Fifthly, water. Up until recently the only liquid water I had seen for quite a while was the water coming from a faucet or in a toilet bowl. All the rest of the water was in its frozen solid, slippery state. Now, there's water everywhere. Snow is melting, creating lakes, oops, I mean puddles, everywhere, dripping from awnings and rooftops, falling from the sky, and most importantly flowing down the river in front of chez nous (our balcony has no more snow on it--anyone want to stop by for a margarita?).

Finally, fashion. Today I wore shoes other than boots to work for the first time since November. It was wonderful! I even wore a skirt! (I strategically only wore skirts on the rare days when I had to take my car to school all winter long, otherwise...brrr.) The kids at school have switched from snow pants to rain pants to play in the snow, and they now sport rubber puddle boots instead of their big clunky snow boots. The colors are brighter too. I observed two different girls today that actually looked like little flowers.

No leaves in sight on any of the trees, but buds, lots of buds. Lots of spring still waiting to happen. I'll keep you posted.

Famous last words

In sincere hopes that winter is loosening its grip on Quebec, I submit this series of photos to show you what a Quebec City winter can be like. On a recent trip to the region (late February), I was amazed by the snow "tunnels" created on otherwise typical suburban streets. In this region, they don't haul the snow away (except on major streets), like they do in Montreal, so when it snows a lot, and frequently, it just keeps piling up.


Notice in the above picture the height of the third floor balconies!


Notice in the above picture the speck of black at the same height as the dumpster, but along the snowbank to the left...that would be a full-grown human being walking down the street! What you can't see in the picture is the row of houses hidden completely by the snowbanks. It must be claustrophobic to be in those houses.


Notice the street sign, slightly bent from the weight of all the snow!



So much snow!

Plug for Doug

This post has nothing to do with life in Montreal, but it's well worth reading...

Back in high school on Long Island I was in an advanced French class that had juniors and seniors in it. I sat near Doug Fine, a junior who I knew already by reputation, but never had the chance to get to know. I was a senior at the time. Doug was one of the smartest and funniest and cleverest people I had ever met. (He was also a great musician and athlete--some people are just naturally good at everything!). We became fast friends and spent a good deal of time together that year and laughed a lot.

I lost touch with Doug after he went to college, but by the grace of Google, I found him again last year. He's a successful journalist, author and environmentalist and he is still extremely smart and funny. I haven't bought his books yet, but when I finally sell my house in a few weeks, I intend to. (No, his books are not that expensive, money's just a bit tight chez Bo and Bijou paying that mortgage on top of our normal expenses here). In the mean time, I content myself and entertain myself by reading his blog: Dispatches from the Funky Butte Ranch. Doug is currently living on a ranch in New Mexico: raising goats, living "off the grid." He drives a "R.O.A.T (ridiculously oversized American truck)" which he fuels with waste vegetable oil from fast food restaurants.


Doug has a way of telling the stories of his everyday adventures with a great deal of humor and intelligence. It's worth reading the comments too; the discussions can be quite interesting. Doug appreciates comments, always replies and would especially appreciate advice on certain delicate aspects of farm life and goat-rearing that us Long Islanders just didn't pick up between soccer practice and shopping at the mall.


So from the total opposite side of the continent, I warmly suggest that you become a reader of Dispatches from the Funky Butte Ranch and that you go here to buy his first book: Not Really an Alaskan Mountain Man, and go to Amazon.com to pre-order his second book: Farewell, My Subaru. Doug has recently added a video to his website that gives you even more insight into his quest and his personality. You will be entertained and inspired, trust me.

Metro riders on the storm

I knew when I moved to Montreal that I would have a new experience of winter. I have enjoyed very mild winters for several years now, and Montreal has too. But not this year, which also happens to be my first winter as a Montreal commuter.

A little bit of November snow was followed by two huge December storms, exactly two weeks apart, each one depositing a good two feet of snow on the metropolis. My car became a nondescript white mound along with those of my neighbors. These storms were followed by regular blasts throughout January, February and now into March (the winds are rattling my windows as we speak and all I see out the windows is whiteness). It seems to never snow less than 10 inches at a time.

The way the plowing works for the smaller streets is that at some point, little orange signs are attached to the normal parking signs announcing a twelve-hour period when you must move your car to allow for plowing. They do the sidewalks too, and they actually remove all the snow and haul it away somewhere in huge trucks. Where I used to live, this took about five to seven days to occur. Since there was absolutely nowhere to move the snow until this happened, it was best to just leave my car parked and once and for all, join the masses on buses and subways.

I’ve already become quite used to it. The commute from my new apartment takes about the same length of time as the drive from my old apartment. It is much quicker though, than the bus/subway journey from my old apartment. When it snows a lot, the streets are much narrower, and it becomes harder for the buses to maneuver, causing major delays and detours. I no longer have the luxury of arriving early to school, but I’ve only arrived late once. Public transportation is so much better for the environment, and I’m definitely saving money on gas.

I use a combination of buses and subways depending on the timing. From my old apartment I rode the blue line of the metro, but from the new place I use the green line and the orange line. About half of the time, I can find a place to sit, but standing or sitting, I am up close and personal with my co-city dwellers. Packed like lemmings into shiny metal boxes.

There are many students, mostly high-school age: girls with guitar pick earrings and streaked hair, boys with an abundance of hockey gear, a wide variety of school uniforms and backpacks. I enjoy, sometimes, listening to their conversations. My bilingualism enables me to nonchalantly eavesdrop on snippets of conversations in French and English. Presumably there are other teachers, given the time of day, but it’s not so easy to pick them out. Teachers dress very casually in Quebec.

The students don’t possess a great deal of bus etiquette. They tend to clump up anywhere and block the way for others instead of moving to the back, and most annoyingly, they jump in line with their friends in what are otherwise, very orderly waiting lines. If there are other teachers around me, they are not as vocal as me to speak up and say, “Hey, you were not here before me and you’re not getting on this bus before me!” They actually respond pretty well, they know they’re not supposed to do that; it just takes a tiny bit of courage and interest to say something. Sometimes it just takes a bit of eye contact and a “back of the line, buddy” gesture to send them on their way. Unfortunately, there are occasionally adults who cut the lines...setting such a great example for our youth.

I tend to spend my commute people watching. I like to look at their shoes, and accessories, like their eyeglasses (I don’t know why!?). It’s usually really crowded, and it’s not always easy to manage reading material. Sometimes I listen to my iPod to ease the abuse on one of my senses. I am always looking for a familiar face. I also like to read over people’s shoulders or read the front page of the paper they’re holding across from me without them noticing. Often I think about the school day ahead of or behind me.

But I do love people watching. The people around me represent an incredible variety of cultures. Having lived in Minnesota and upstate New York my whole adult life, my experience has been a little lacking in the multicultural area. I am always amused, when I do steal a little time to read myself, by the fact that every so often when I look up and around, there is a completely different group of people around me.

When things are running on time and it’s not too hot or too crowded, I liken these daily movements to gentle waves rolling on and off the shore, rather rhythmical and smooth...but during those occasional chaotic commutes, I feel more like a salmon swimming upstream!

South of the border: a photo essay

I said my next post would be about my commute in Montréal, but at the moment, my commute is far from my mind as I spend a few days in South Carolina. Here's a look:







All of the above pictures were taken at one of my favorite Hilton Head restaurants:



Here's a new friend I met on the golf course...he's a little guy.

Boxing days...

Happy 2008!

I have had some settling to do recently, which I’ll tell you about in just a moment, and I haven’t found the time to write about it until tonight.

First of all, Bo and I traded our Urban Arbres for Face au Fleuve (see future entries...). We moved just before New Year’s with the help of a small friendly moving crew and many of our local friends. (Merci Alain, Renaud, Pascal, Alexandra, Isabelle et François!!) Our new apartment is cheaper, closer to my school, and has a much better layout than our previous apartment (much more storage too). The photo will show you why most Montrealers move on July 1st. Still, it could have been much worse!



Less than a week later, work permit in hand, we went to my storage unit in Plattsburgh and my parents helped Bo and I to empty it! (Thanks Mom and Dad!) A truckful of my personal goods crossed the border with no problem at all. For the first time, Bo’s and my possessions were all under the same roof—which suddenly seemed like a very small roof! We’ve spent our weekends arranging furniture, hanging shelves and pictures and placing things in their rightful places.

My new commute is about half as long. I travel by public transportation and it takes right around 45 minutes (the same that it took with my car from the old apartment). The commute doesn’t seem long at all and while riding the bus, or subway, or waiting for one or the other, I actually read an entire book for pleasure this month for the first time in a long time (I’m ashamed to admit how long...). I also read passages for school. The next post is about my experience in public transportation (transport en commun). I wrote it before the move, but never posted it, and it’s still a glimpse into the routine. I personally used my car yesterday for only the 3rd time since I went back to work after the holidays.

My professional life has been busy too. There have been many special events at school (Mardi gras, Open House, and before the holidays, my class performed a play, I performed in a play with my colleagues and there was a huge parent assembly). Recently, a friend of Bo’s, who works at the Université du Québec à Montréal (UQAM), invited me to give a pair of lectures to her education students. That was a new experience for me, something I had been wanting to try. I was nervous, but I think I did pretty well. We are already discussing dates for next semester, so I must have done all right.

Here is Chico's impression of an ostrich on moving day (if you look closely towards the bottom right of the bike rack, you can see his two little ears...). Because his face was hidden, he thought he was invisible. Cats are troopers though, Chico adjusted very quickly to his second move in six months. (By the way, I looked up Chico on Wikipedia yesterday and learned that Pope Benedict XVI's cat is also named Chico...great minds think alike...but maybe that means I need to change Chico's name to Chico II).