Montréal est chez nous.

The last month has been a particularly difficult one for me.  There is not one specific reason but instead, a melange of many different things.  It’s not a bad thing but it is part of the process of being me and finding me.  The unfortunate result is that I have been moody, irritable and generally unpleasant to be around.  I know that this can be difficult on my loved ones so I’ve been spending a lot of time alone to try to spare my new friends from my less-than-charming self.

The last time I was like this, life gave me a very precious gift.  It gave me SMEW.  I suddenly had two dear friends who understood the ups and downs of what I was going through and I understood theirs.  Together, we fought through a very difficult time.  We found strength in one another and it pulled us out of our darkness.

Despite the on again off again nature of my relationship with E, we remained friends until very recently.  He has since decided to separate himself from W and I.  I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t part of my current low point but he is a grown man and has made his choice.  W and I both wish him luck in whatever path he follows.  So SMEW has disbanded but W and I remain close as ever.  Some gifts, you should never let go of.

Anyway, life must have sensed that I was having trouble because I received another gift just last week.  I have yet to name it but the story goes something like this:

I was feeling really down but I wanted to take the opportunity to spend time with one of my Brazilian friends before she departed on the next leg of her Canadian journey.  She and I had gotten to know one another several months ago when we took French classes together.  Her story was something like mine in that she had traveled a long distance for a man to find herself hurt and alone.  It was a great bonding point for us when we met and the friendship grew from there.

One of the things that she wanted to do before leaving was gather several of her friends together for drinks at the Jazz Festival.  When we all arrived there were five women:  three from Brazil, one from France and myself.  It seemed like a good beginning to the evening.  It got even better when my friend and I were walking ahead of the others.  She pointed out two of the three women and said, “They understand.  The same thing happened to them.”  I understood instantly.

But something really special happened to all of us that night.  Something great.  We clicked and identified with one another.  We spilled wine, sat in the rain and nearly died laughing when two men showed up at the same time to see the same woman (and it wasn’t me!).  It was simply amazing.

The five of us spent three nights in a row out and about in Montreal.  We talked, laughed, ate, drank, shared stories and bonded.  It’s almost as if we’d known each other our whole lives.  They now know my story and I know theirs.  It was the perfect pick-me-up when I was down and I think the same goes for the others.

Sadly, our friend left for Vancouver but the remainder of us continue to spend time together and have joked about having a club.  It can never replace SMEW, nor do I want it to but it will surely be a source of strength for all of us while we struggle to reformulate who we are while in a new place.  We all look forward to it because Montreal is now chez nous.

One of the most amazing experiences for the group of us was going to O.Noir, a restaurant where you eat in complete darkness to simulate dining with a visual impairment.  All the wait staff are blind as is the band that plays while you eat.  We all fell in love with the experience despite losing bread (by far the biggest crisis of the evening), raising our forks to our mouths to discover nothing was there and walking out with sauce on our faces and chocolate in our hair… We would all do it again in a heartbeat.

There you have it.  Life has yet again given me a gift to remind me how wonderful and special it can be.  I am warmed by its ability to luminate my path and provide me with friends to travel with when I’m feeling lost and lonely on my journey.  Here we go, ladies.  On y va!

Bisous

Days gone by

I frequently sit back and think about where I was at any given time over the last couple of years.  I like to think about all of the things I’ve done and how far I’ve come.  It’s quite amazing really.

Right now, I’m nestled in a block of time that was pivotal in my decision making process last year and the year before that.  It’s a strange time for me.  Part of the oddness comes from the feeling of nostalgia blended with joy and sadness.  It’s a bit confusing while being liberating.  I can’t sum it up any better than that.

This block of time begins with the dates of June 18-25.  They have been permanently marked in my internal calendar as being momentous.

During those dates two years ago, I was on a trip in the mountains with S.  It was during that holiday that I began to realize how unhappy I was in my relationship.  I had no idea what I was going to do about it but I needed to make something happen.  It marked a three month battle with myself in attempt to figure out what I needed to do to find happiness.  It was the beginning of one of the hardest summers of my life.

Those exact dates last year were the ones that I spent visiting Montreal for the first time.  It was when I decided that I wanted to move here and that there could be another home for me outside of Edmonton.  I fell completely in love with the city and had no reservations about coming here.  I was so excited for my new beginning that I barely realized that I was gone the exact dates of my trip the previous year.  What I also didn’t realize was that I was about to begin one of the best summers of my life.

This year the dates brought me an appointment for a job interview, my first fishing expedition since childhood, friends in the hospital, deaths throughout Hollywood, a murder in my hometown, surprise visitors from Alberta, reconnection with a lost friend, seeing one of my favourite bands live and a lost cell phone.  The list goes on but these were the highlights for sure. I however, made no life changing decisions.  I thought it would be better this way.  There was already too much going on and I didn’t want to mess with anything.  This might have been the onset of one of the weirdest summers of my life but who can really tell before it happens?  I just guess based on history.

Coming up this weekend is another date that I can’t escape.  Last year, I tried desperately to just make it any other day and knew I couldn’t do it, so I went out of town for the weekend with E to try to avoid it.  July 5 was supposed to have been my wedding day.  This weekend coming up would have been my first wedding anniversary.  Instead it’s the anniversary of me realizing I was completely head over heels for E and recognizing how difficult it would be for us to part ways.  I’m still baffled by how much can change in a year but time moves on and so have I.

Anyway, my head is a strange place these days.  It’s filled with memories, both good and bad.  Some memories hurt, some are empowering and some just are.  As much as I try not to focus too much on the past, I respect it because of what it represents to me.  I appreciate it because I see an entirely different person when I look into the mirror each day and I embrace it because it’s made me the person who I am.

So that’s where I’m at right now… wading through some mud but I’ll be just fine.

Oh yes, and guess what I found when I was unpacking the boxes that I hauled back in my car?  The original fortune from my first lone trip to Texas to see JB.  I guess I didn’t throw it out afterall.  In fact, I kept it with my jewellery.  I think that this just shows how precious it was to me before I received the second one.  It was a nice reminder of days gone by and I suppose it really was worth keeping.  I promise not to throw it out.

(If you’re not sure what I’m talking about, go to my archives and read “A fortune worth keeping”)

xo

May Joy be yours this Christmas

Garage sales in my hometown in Saskatchewan were always grandiose events.

I remember my family holding one at my Grandmother’s house and despite my Mom’s sign stating that we would not open before Friday at 7:00pm, there were people lined up in the yard shortly after 6:00pm.  The constant stream of people in and out would surprise you given the small population there.  When the end of the evening came along, my parents had to ask people to leave.  Most of the shoppers would return sometime over the weekend to see if the pieces that they were brooding over were still there, at which time they would actually make the purchase.

Saturday and Sunday flowed much the same way and at the end of it all, the majority of our items were gone.  Some people really do love other people’s junk… myself included.

Although I tend to be a bit on the anti-consumerist side (except when it comes to shoes), I love stuff.  Old stuff, new stuff, used stuff, colorful stuff, unique stuff… I love it all.  If you ever see my apartment, you’ll see an eclectic blend of the things that I love the most, ranging from books, to art, to music, to pictures, to bedding, etc.  When I first moved in and had none of my favorite things, I had a friend comment on my minimalist nature.  I responded, “Not at all.  Just wait.  You’ll see.”

I anticipate his surprise this weekend when I see him again for the first time since my return from Alberta with a carload of stuff, which has since exploded onto every surface of my itty bitty place.

Regardless, most of my favorite things are gifts from loved ones, items that I’ve picked up while traveling or things that have a story behind them.  I can barely sit still when I have friends over because I want to tell them where every last thing came from and why I love them so much.  The sheer fact that I hadn’t seen most of these things for nearly two years just amplified my desire to hold and cherish all my stuff.  It’s a weird passion but it’s part of who I am.

One of my all time favorite things is my coffee mug, which I had my parents buy for me at a neighbour’s garage sale several years before my Grandmother’s.  I was very young at the time (perhaps four or five) and became completely enamoured with a coffee mug on one of the tables.  It was the middle of July but I was completely taken with a mug that was decorated with a Christmas theme, complete with ornaments and an elf.  I couldn’t read very much at the time but recognized “joy” and “Christmas.”

I didn’t need to know anything else.  I had to have it.

If you think I’m stubborn now, you should have seen me as a child.  I am the youngest of three and I was very good at getting what I wanted when I wanted it.  Despite my Mom’s arguments of “Shauna, that’s not an appropriate mug for a little girl,” I fought my way through until I had it.  I couldn’t figure out why a Christmas mug wouldn’t be good for a child.  I thought she was nuts.

As time passed, my reading skills improved.  As more time passed, so did my comprehension.

I’m not sure how old I was when I finally learned what my beloved mug said but it’s been years and it’s still one of my most cherished things.  It’s been hidden from roomates after I’ve found moldy teabags in it.  It’s been moved nearly everywhere with me.  It received a girly squeal of delight when I pulled it out of it’s packaging on Sunday night.  It’s currently sitting just in front of me with the remnants of my morning coffee in it.  I picked it unconsiously off the shelf this morning without even having realized that I grabbed it rather than any one of my ten(ish) mugs.  It’s that normal for me to have it in my hands… I love it.

But what does it say that’s so inappropriate for a young girl?

May Joy be yours this Christmas.

P.S. If Joy’s not available we’ll dig up some other gal!

That’s the story of my mug.

I hear wedding bells

When I arrived in Montreal back in September, I was greeted with a voicemail from a friend of a friend offering to go for drinks since I didn’t know anyone in the city.  I promptly responded that I was most definitely interested and was picked up a couple of hours later.  A mere week after that, I became his roommate and stayed as such until my departure to Europe.  Upon my return, he again offered his spare bedroom until I could get settled.

SB is one of those people who would give anything to see his friends and family happy.  He is kind and generous.  He saw me through a very hard time and for that, I will be eternally grateful.  He hung out with me when I was nursing my broken heart, he took me shopping when I needed to purchase furniture and he introduced me to many of the most popular spots for Montrealers.  He took me out with his friends and offered suggestions when I needed help.  He showed himself to be one of the most cherished friends that I will ever have because he gave without expectation.

The last several months have taken us down separate paths but our friendship remains intact.  Today, he is getting married and I couldn’t be happier for him.

Because he is the kind of person who gives and gives, it was just a matter of time before he received… that time is now.  He found someone who understands what makes him tick and who makes him happy.  She’s beautiful, friendly, outgoing and successful.  She loves him and he loves her.  They’re perfect for each other.

So dearest SB, I am thrilled that life has finally given back to you.  I wish you and your lovely lady all the happiness in the world.  You both deserve it.

xo

A few of my favourite things…

I made it back to my pad in Montreal yesterday after going through five provinces, six states and crossing the Canada/USA border twice.  Although I was tired, I promptly started unpacking and organizing all of the things that I had crammed into my car.  It was great to see all of my stuff that had been hiding out in my parents’ garage for nearly two years but it never ceases to amaze me how many things that I own but I had forgotten about.

This week will be another busy one as I have a birthday, wedding and a concert to attend but I will write another longer post later.  In the meantime, I thought I should attach some of my road trip pics.

Hope you are well.  xo

Country Roads, Take me Home…

I have not forgotten about Rainbows & Daggers but did put it on the backshelf for a bit while I vacationed back to Alberta for one of my oldest friend’s weddings.  It was a great trip that provided me with the opportunity to see many of my people.  I did miss a few but I did the best that I could in the time alotted.  I’m fairly certain that I could spend a whole month back in Etown and still have people who I wanted to see and places I wanted to go.  It’s just the nature of the beast, so I will have to try again at Christmas… that’s the best that I can do.

I have a couple of stories that I would like to share but they will come in time.  Today my post will be short and sweet because I’ve got to run.  One of the things that I’ve wanted to do since I made my decision to move to Montreal is to drive my car there from Alberta and today is the day that I’m making this dream come true.  I’m hitting the road on what will surely be the longest, quietest but most peaceful drive of my life.  I’m tackling it alone, partly by choice and partly because of poor planning but I am excited (and a tad anxious) all the same.

I will be staying with friends in some places and camping in others… when and where are yet to be determined.  I don’t have weiner sticks or even a lighter but if I manage to get a campsite with a power outlet, I do have my microwave in the backseat of my car.  Yes, this trip will be entertaining indeed.  I’ll figure it out (and likely go shopping along the way).

For now, it looks like I will be heading south from Winnipeg and going through the states.  As long as they don’t give me too many troubles with my car full of boxes, I’ll then head up and spend a day (or two) in Guelph.  I hope to make it through the 4000(ish) kilometers in about six days.

Wish me luck!  Lots of love to all of you.

Learning to count all over again

I nearly peed my pants laughing last June when I met someone from Brazil who was kind enough to let me know that my name sounds very much like a crude word for a rather private female body part in Portuguese (which is the language used in Brazil).

Ironically, the majority of my friends right now are from Brazil and I had more than my share of surprised looks when I first introduced myself.  None of them pronounce my name quite like Anglophones do but it’s usually intentional so they won’t slip and call me by the wrong name.  I’m absolutely okay with this (even though I giggle uncontrollably whenever it comes up).

One of my favorite parts of having this multicultural group of friends is the richness that it can bring to our conversations.  Some of them study English and know very little (if any) French.  Some of them study French and although they know some English, they are not as comfortable using it.  Regardless of what their preferred language is, they often switch into Portuguese when they get stuck on words and then switch back.  It’s even more entertaining when we’re also with Mexicans and they start switching to Spanish.  It’s always a smorgasbord of languages and we have a blast trying to figure it out together. 

I have been benefitting by augmenting my little pocket of random words in foreign languages.  Like most people, I learn the bad words first and… well… I can now swear in Portuguese nearly as well as I can in English.  It’s a good thing that my friends think it’s cute because everyone else would probably find me very offensive.  I don’t think that they have fully realized just how much I swear in English either but this will come and then they can find out just how offensive I can be… hehehe.

Part of the reason that everyone finds my Portuguese so funny is because when I try to roll my Rs, it sounds very Spanish.  They find my odd smash Spanish and English accents charming and precious.  I find it a wee bit embarrassing and mostly entertaining, but such is life.

Anyway…  This week, I have been working on learning how to count in Portuguese.  Today I practiced quite a bit and shouldn’t have done so after drinking a regular-sized mug of espresso because I had the giggles in the worst of ways but it went something like this:

Hmm, two, three, fourS, five, six, seven, eight, bride… new… no… (insert nonsense and me laughing until I cried), ten!  (Damn, I’m good)

I got talked through the teens up to twenty and then by tens up to ninety.  But then I got tested.  “How do you say one hundred?”

My response:  “Sit!”  (followed by more laughter and tears)

I think I’m going to have to work on this a bit… and yes, I should (and do) study French.  Portuguese is just what I work on after copious amounts of wine and/or coffee and/or sun… not the best way to learn but it sure is fun.

xo

Comment dit-on «hiccup» en français?

As I’ve learned time and time again, there’s no such thing as a plan that goes off without a hitch… not to worry though.  Everything is just fine.  Fabulous, even.

I’ve put a lot of time and thought into my French classes over the last several weeks and after some serious contemplation, decided to take a break.  I need it.  My brain hurts.

This all started to manifest a couple of months ago, when our group had a less-than-stellar instructor.  We rarely had the chance to practice what we were learning and when we did, she would confuse us by going on strange tangents about things that simply were not relevant (e.g. her daughter’s evil husband).  As a whole, our group suffered, but at the end of the level we went to the administration to request a specific instructor for the next level and were ecstatic when we were successful.

We continued on and over the last four weeks, we relearned what we were supposed to have been working on previously, in addition to our coursework that was necessary to complete the level we were in.  We finished up on Friday afternoon with a collective sigh of relief.  It was a very intense month.

Our final day was spent doing one-on-one sessions with our instructor so she could evaluate our oral competencies.  After we had all finished the testing, she came in and spoke with all of us about something that she saw as being problematic for the entire group.  She could see that each of us had a good vocabulary and an excellent grasp of the grammar that we have studied for the last several months.  The issue was and is that when we speak, there is always a gap between what we know and what we can say.  Each of us has extreme difficulty in retrieving the information quickly and naturally.  She said that we are all capable of moving on to the next level but because it focuses so heavily on the finer details in conversation, that we might really struggle with the material.

I won’t deny it.  I was relieved and happy.  I had always figured that it was just me that was having a verb conjugation battle in the depths of the language centre of my brain… but no, everyone was.  I had been contemplating stopping for awhile and hearing this critique was exactly what I needed.  It confirmed what I felt and the timing was perfect.

In all of this, I am one of the most fortunate ones.  I have the time and liberty to pause my grammar classes and just take a conversation class, which is my plan at this point.  Sadly, the majority of the other students are here on visas and they have to figure something else out.  I know for sure there are two who will be continuing on to the final level but the rest are disbanding and either hiring a private instructor or starting studies on another language.

I haven’t decided yet if I’ll even take the final level.  I think that after taking some more conversation classes, I’ll have reached the level of communication that I wanted.  It’s not that important for me to be able to speak LIKE a Francophone, I just want to be able to speak TO a Francophone… but I’ll figure all that out later.  In the meantime, I’m content to sleep in during the week because my classes don’t start until 12h30.  Life is tough.

So… that’s that… now back to the job hunt.  xo

I speak Franglais. How about you?

Over the last couple of months, I’ve gone out more and more with my friends from the language school.  It’s always entertaining because we are such a multicultural, multilingual mix.  I am the only Canadian at this point but there have been others from time to time.  Right now, the group consists mostly of Brazilians, a couple of Mexicans, a Spaniard and myself.

Some of the students study English, some study French but we always have a good time.  What gets really interesting is choosing the language to converse in.  We all tend to get stuck on words but then we lean on each other for support to find a way to communicate clearly to one another.  It confuses all of us when we switch back and forth but each of us has been very patient and we’ve all learned to recognize words in languages that we have no knowledge of.  This especially comes in handy when we lose track of who we are speaking to and try to converse in a language that the other doesn’t understand.

What I’ve really noticed though is that despite the fact that I’m extremely fortunate to have English as my native tongue, it presents challenges.

Yes, I can travel nearly anywhere in the world and find a way to get my point across, but sometimes it’s just too easy to fall back on it and not attempt another language.  Because the use of English is so widespread it tends to be the language that everyone switches to when trying to communicate to a larger group.  The end result is that Anglophones are rarely forced to learn or practice other languages.  This can be tough when people, like myself, have a genuine desire to learn and grow but they get stunted by the universality of their communication.

I have met several people who complain that their English is awful but when they speak, it’s nearly flawless.  I have sat and pondered the things that they say to me, realizing that there is no way I could construct such detailed grammar and vocabulary in French even though, technically speaking, I am now at an advanced level.  It’s been this humbling idea that currently has me sitting and watching a French-dubbed episode of Degrassi (Nouvelle Génération).  I’m sure I could find more productive means of augmenting my vocabulary but it’s getting late and I can’t think that quickly today.

The good news is that I will begin my final level of French classes on Monday.  Four more weeks and I’ll be “bilingual” (but still requiring much more practice).  I’ve been beefing up my CV and cover letters in both English and French, while seeking out possible job opportunities.  I had hoped to start working awhile ago but for a few reasons, the hunt kept being put off.  Sadly, I’ve run out of excuses, so the time has come for me to get serious about finding work.

Otherwise life is just life.  My place is slowly filling up with all of my cherished items that are getting shipped box by box from Etown and I spend as much time as I can outdoors soaking up the joy that is spring in this gorgeous city.  I still have bad days where I am a bit sad and a bit homesick but I am convinced now more than ever that I made the right decision when I came here.

I wanted the golden ticket for so long and I got it.  Life doesn’t get much better than this.  I’m a very lucky person and wouldn’t trade this opportunity for anything.

I hope you are well.  xo

Liar Liar

Sadly, I don’t think that W will ever believe a word I say again.  The good news is that she didn’t expect a thing.

Back in February, shortly after my return from Vegas, I went through a couple of weeks of extreme homesickness.  I really wanted to go back to Etown for a visit but wasn’t sure how I was going to accomplish it with my French classes and budget.  I teetered back and forth on the decision until I came home from a pub one night to see that there was a seat sale with one of the airlines for the first weekend in April.  In my post-pub glow, I threw my budget out the window and decided to book the ticket home… a decision that I have never regretted for a second.

E was also planning on being in Etown that weekend, so we plotted a surprise for W together… a SMEW reunion.

SMEW together once again

Thanks to a bet that W was participating in, the secret was relatively easy to hide.  W and a group of friends each had to give up something (chosen by the other participants) for Lent.   In W’s case, she had to give up most of her electronic forms of communication including Facebook, MSN and her blog.  It was a very difficult 40 days for both her and I because we stalk each other through these things but at the same time, it made letting all of our friends in on the surprise much, much easier.

The plan went smoothly for the most part and we only encountered a couple of minor hiccups along the way.  I still have to laugh about W actually believing me that I was in a government office at 18h30 on a Friday, when really I was connecting in the Winnipeg airport and about to board my flight.  There had also been an occasion a week or so earlier, where W had talked about coming to Montreal to visit me the same weekend and I had shut her down so abruptly that she thought I was upset with her.  I had to lie through my teeth for weeks and it was incredibly difficult, but she never doubted me for a second.

The big night arrived and the plans were finalized.  E and I had gone to W’s together but I waited downstairs while he went up to greet her.  I followed a few minutes later, knocking on her door and standing just to the side so she wouldn’t be able to see me through the peephole.  When W opened her apartment door to see me standing in the hall,  her expression changed from confusion to glee and the first words out of her mouth were, “You bitch!”  It was great… fabulous, in fact.

We celebrated SMEW the best way we knew how… with pink drinks and lots of yummy food, followed by a night at the pub with some fabulous friends.  It was amazing to see so many people.  We were all in a state of awe and shock that SMEW was back together for a night.  It was wonderful for everyone.  I’m so happy that all worked out the way that it did.

Through the other parts of the weekend, I was able to see many good friends and spend time with my family.  I wish I could have stayed longer because I felt like I had just caught my breath and then had to jump on a plane again.   There were also many others that I would loved to have seen but it just didn’t work out.  I suppose that’s what happens when you take a weekend trip…  but not to worry, I’ll be back the last week of May and I’ll stay substantially longer.  I can hardly wait.

Until then… xoxo