The Language Question: Napoleon's Revenge

Last night, I spent an ungodly amount of time squeezing out a letter in French it would have taken me about three minutes to write in English. And if a real Francophone ever read it (in other words, anything but a product of Ontario's lax commitment to French Immersion) it would probably read like mad libs. Or some translations of anime movies. Or a Nigerian bank scam.

But after hours, or rather minutes, of double checking the gender of every second word in an online dictionary, I'm proud, damn it. Although it's yet another reason to sign up for French classes instead of Russian lessons. With French classes, I would be able to formulate a coherent letter requesting repairs to my apartment... theoretically. Or at least be able to request directions to the nearest affordable and clean hotel. With Russian, I could... read War and Peace in the original? Try and pick up a chess player in the park so we could discuss ontology as foreplay? I need someone to champion the Russian language here, people.

Protagitron/Protagitronne

Day 2 of Operation: Enjoy Life got off to a semi-successful start. On the plus column, my hair is shorter and makes me look like Shirley Temple cross-bred with Valerie Solanas. In a bad-ass way. Unfortunately, there was a run-in with an abrasive French customer, which has sent me on a melancholy spin. I was going to write a long post about my reflections on language and cultural identity, anxiety and belonging, but then I realized that I did not know enough to do it. I certainly don't know enough about the French experience in Quebec or in Canada. Which becomes clear enough whenever I speak it. But I don't even know enough about the English identity in Quebec either. Even when I'm in Montreal, and even after four years, I feel like a tourist. I think part of me has always known that I'm a little unmoored here; that whatever pass I'm on will expire soon. So, I'll leave it to the true natives and lovers of Montreal (wherever they may have come from, however they got there) to sort it all out. Until then I should try listening to a french TV station or two.