An anglophone from the west. A francophone town. Hoo boy.

Sunday, August 17, 2008


Well, it seems the summer is just zooming by. Appropriate, seeing as this weekend is the big GP3R -- Grand Prix Trois-Rivières... there's been plenty of zooming, a fair bit of vrooming, and even more "vroum"ing.

Last night, besides a beautiful full moon, there were fabulous fireworks just outside our door. Apparently, they weren't organized to celebrate my one-year anniversary of living in Trois-Rivières, but that's what I've decided to think. Why *wouldn't* the city put on fireworks just for me?

And of course, with everyone gearing up to go back to school (myself included), the weather has decided to actually be nice for a change. Just to rub it in that summer is winding down.


We fled the city for a few days to wander (very quicky) through the nation's capital. It was my first visit ever -- shocking, I know. More shocking that it was only the second visit for my conjoint, his first having been last fall. Well, at least that saved us from having to worry about who had seen what, and what was worth a second viewing.

Well worth a second viewing (even after he had spent a full day there the last time) was the Canadian War Museum. A good mix of artifacts, points of view, interpretation, and tanks. A whole giant room full of the latter. Okay, so maybe that last one is more for the boys. I enjoyed it more for artsy photo opportunities.

And what rounds out a day at a museum better than a day at the pub?

We did much the same thing for the rest of the trip. Just change the museum and the pub, and you pretty much have the whole trip.

My favorite part, and something I hadn't considered was the confusion factor that a bilingual couple can present to people who work in bilingual facilities in an officially bilingual city. We have the very bad habit of switching between French and English. With the occasional smattering of Japanese, just to throw others off the scent. Asking a relatively simple question becomes more complex the more languages you throw in, especially if you unwittingly change in mid-phrase. On the upside, the person you're talking to is free to pick the language they're more comfortable with. On the downside, they may be extremely confused for the first little bit. I much prefer some confusion to the automatic switch to English I always run into in Montreal. If I address you in French (or English), why change? Even if you detect an accent, if I've made the commitment to starting the transaction in one language, why switch to another? But that is a long and complex topic, best suited to another post. This is supposed to be about Ottawa!

A very pretty city, that reminded me strangely of Victoria. I blame the hordes of tourists, plentiful pubs, and gorgeous gardens. And the overwhelming British-ness of it all.

That must have been it...

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