The weather was gorgeous for a week when I arrived, then the sun started playing hide and seek—it’s still warmer and nicer in France than in Canada, where winter doesn’t seem to end this year, and where the trees are still bare.

I caught a mysterious bug between Salvador, Lisbon and Paris, and I spent a week passing out in bed or pretending I was fine, then I got better.

And the next thing you know, it was Easter.

Not that I care much about Easter. I can never remember when it is because the dates are different every year. Last year, I was accidentally still in Brazil because Easter was very early. I was expecting fervour and enthusiasm—I mean, come on, Jesus’ supernatural resurrection from the dead has to be something to celebrate in an overwhelmingly Catholic country like Brazil!—but in Salvador, people went to the beach as usual, not to church.

This year, I’m in France. Mind you, I don’t know how to celebrate Easter either. We’re not Catholic so we couldn’t care less about Jesus and other imaginary friends who rule so many lives and political decisions around the world.

I remember egg hunts when I was a kid, or rather, waking up to hear “les cloches sont passées” (“The bells came over to visit you”). No, my parents weren’t high, it’s a French thing. In France, it’s not an Easter bunny who drops treats for kids, but magical bells. Obviously, the bells have wings, or else they wouldn’t be able to provide chocolate to all kids in France. Oh, the crazy things you believe (or enjoy believing) when you’re four or five!

I tried to start my own Easter traditions in Canada with Mark. They involved chocolate, not Jesus. I pulled off an epic indoor Easter egg hunt for a few years. Then, in 2020, we were too freaked out about the pandemic to even consider Easter traditions. In 2021, I was stuck in France and we did it on Skype (I knew where Feng had hidden the eggs so I was giving clues). In 2022, supermarket shelves were empty and I couldn’t find any chocolate in Ottawa (!). I think I gave up on Easter after that. Mark was a bit too old to believe his stuffed rabbit had come over with Kinder chocolate. He still gets chocolate but without Easter magic, sorry, Mark!

I’ll buy chocolate after Easter, they are usually much cheaper.

And I decided to spend Easter Sunday at the closest beach because I’m always happier when I can see and smell the ocean. The sky was grey in gritty Saint-Nazaire but it was warmer than it seemed. No giant boat in the shipyard this time—the MSC World America was delivered in March and it’s too early to see the next project!