At 7:01 p.m., the line went dead and I started swearing in both official languages.
You’re leaving your family and your friends behind to start a new life in a…
Maybe it’s not too late to pick up another harmless activity—knitting? Rock climbing? Blogg—oh, never mind.
Canada is home to some of the world’s most eye-catching sights, both natural and manmade,…
As a travel addict, you’re always thinking of your next trip. These thoughts are always…
I check the lunch box to see if Mark enjoyed his “nutrition break”—no kidding, that’s how the school calls it (classes are “instructional blocks”). There are a couple of flyers inside.
Since I have room in my bag after gifting what I bring from Canada—typically clothes, sweets, maple syrup and a few North American goodies—I do a bit of shopping in France.
I feel pleasantly numb and it makes me smile. My evil plan worked—a four-hour night’s sleep to disconnect from reality. Take that, stupid brain!
It’s time to fly back to Canada.
I don’t even want to analyze how it makes me feel.
I’m not going to complain about the influence of American pop culture in France. After all, why not? However, I hate the fact that many French decision-makers are seeing America as a blueprint for success.
I can’t stand these last few days when it’s almost over but not quite yet. I don’t know who I am anymore, nor where I belong or where I want to be.
It’s funny how exotic French can sound when you’re no longer immersed in the culture. Here are a few expressions and words I rediscover when I go to France.
Suddenly, there were riot police officers walking behind me, in front of me and blocking side streets.
“Mademoiselle? You can sit down. Oh, it’s funny, you have goosebumps… is it too cold in there?”
What kind of art moves you the most? What’s the creative discipline you enjoy best? Literature, performing arts, visual arts?
Even if the world was collapsing around them, French people would first clean their plate and finish their drink.
For once it’s not the noise level that grabs my attention but red and blue lights flashing into the living room, and by extension, into the bedroom where I’m falling asleep on my book.
Mosques and other places of worship, even Nantes’ many churches, aren’t usually part of the itinerary. After all, we’re a bunch of atheists.
Note to self, an Anger mystery to solve—why are they so many statues of naked women scattered around the city?
We bought a train pass. First stop? Saint-Gilles-Croix-de-Vie, 80 kilometres south of Nantes, on the Atlantic coast.
Se loger (“to find a place to live”) is a real issue for many French people.
Maybe that’s why I noticed her. She was standing alone in the street and she didn’t seem like the kind of person who would stand alone in an empty street.
Wherever you are in the world, whatever your background is, I’m sure you are familiar with the hard-to-define but easy-to-understand concept of family dynamics.