Highlights of 2013

Okay, so that time of year has come once again, the time where we (or mostly I) review the year that has passed!  It has been, perhaps, the most amazing year of my life.  This won't be a terribly long post, but it's pretty mandatory in order to keep up the tradition from the past two years.  So!

What's happened in 2013?  Hmmm.  Let's think.

Gosh, what could it be?

Oh, right.

Québec.

The main highlight of 2013 was, of course, traveling to Québec City, Québec and studying there for five weeks with Lauren.  It was an experience I would never trade.  The only thing that would have made it better would have been if Kat had been there with us.  We missed our bestest friend like crazy, but thank God for Skype, right?

So!  Highlights!

• June 16 - July 3 - I got to fly up to Michigan to spend my grandparents' fiftieth anniversary with them.  It was a wonderful time, and I'm so grateful that they were willing to put up with me for two weeks.  I got to see everyone from that side of the family: my brother and sister, my grandparents, my aunt and uncle, my cousins, and my nieces and nephew.  Not to mention I got to see my father, stepmother, and siblings for the first time in five years.  I got to spend some special time bonding with everyone, especially my father when he and I went out to lunch one day.  I also drove around and got lost in Marshall with my sister, Sarah - that was fun - before going with her to pick up Dawn, our older sister.  I have so many great memories of those two weeks.
• July 4 - We spent Independence Day in Canada!  I was amused.  This was also the day we arrived in Québec, which was definitely monumental.
• July 4 - 7 - Lauren, her family, and I got to spend a few days as tourists in and around Québec City.  We saw la chute Montmorency, la basilique Ste-Anne, and we even  went to Trois-Rivières to see their favorite jazz artist, Emilie-Claire Barlow, at le Festivoix!
• July 13 - We tried poutine for the first time.  It was incredible.
• July 27 - Lauren and I took a three-hour bus ride, getting up at 4:30 in the morning, to Montréal.  I got to meet and have vocal coaching from one of my absolute favorite singers, Gabrielle Destroismaisons.  She was so nice, and beautiful, and talented, and it was such an incredible experience.  Not only that, but Lauren got to stay and meet her, as well!
• July 28 - I got to meet my friend, François, for the first time after meeting him several years ago on NaNoWriMo.  He was, apparently, surprised that I liked so many Québécois musicians, me being American, so we got to talking.  We finally met, and he made fun of my French, and we went into a library, rode in the elevators, and left.  It was awesome.
• August 3 - Lauren went back to Montréal for the day and I got to hike up Mont-du-Lac-des-Cygnes.  My feet are still tired.
• August 8 - The big finale of our trip in Québec.  Lauren and I took the ferry to Lévis and saw our favorite singer of all time, the reason we are friends, the reason we were in Québec: Bruno Pelletier.  We got to meet him before his show, we got to meet Ekaterina, a woman we knew online but never in person, we got to see his sound check, we were right in the front for the show itself. . . . Everything was perfect.  It was amazing.
• August 10 and 11 - Not a good highlight.  Lauren and I had a nightmarish trip back to the U.S. thanks to the incompetency of Delta.
• August 29 - I turned 22!  WOO!
• Some point in November - I got a job as an assistant in the school's Special Collections for next semester.

Okay, so it wasn't a short post.  I lied.  Obviously most of the highlights of the year are due to Québec, but that's okay.  I can't wait to go back.  Hopefully I won't have to wait another four years.  All in all, 2013 was absolutely amazing.  Here's hoping 2014 is just as good!

I have green nails.

Clearly, I was having trouble thinking of an interesting entry title.  And I still didn't succeed.

Anyway.  Hi.  It's been over a month since I last posted.  So what's been going on then?  Well, more stress, for one thing, specifically with two of my classes.  The other three are going pretty well.  But anyway, I don't feel like talking about classes, because classes are stupid.

So!  Classes for next semester!  (See what I did there?)  Of course, I had some difficulties getting into the ones I wanted, because that's what happens to me every semester.  Because I have about the lowest amount of credits a person can have while still being a junior, I have the last choice when it comes to upper-level classes that I need for a major.  This is never a problem with French, since the classes are always so small, but it's a bitch with English.  The 400-level English classes fill up extremely quickly and thus make it impossible for me to even get on the wait list for them.  After some maneuvering, I did manage to get on the wait list for an American literature class and then finally into the actual class, but now I'm hoping not to take French Civilization II next semester, so I'm on two different wait lists for a couple English writing courses, but I'm position 9 for both, and I have been for quite a while.  So it's unlikely that I'll get into those.  But, for the moment, my classes for next semester are:

French Literature II

French Civilization II

Contemporary American Literature

Introduction to Computer Science I

JINS: Page and Stage to Screen: Sherlock
University Chorus

I guess it's not too terrible of a schedule.  I'll be much happier if I can drop French Civ, though.  Also, I didn't realize that my JINS course was based on Sherlock when I bid on it, and I'm just not interested in Sherlock at all.  That genre of literature has never interested in me.  Oh, well.

We also finished the French play for the semester a couple of weeks ago, which is a bit of a relief.  I was worried that everyone, including myself, would have trouble having lines memorized in time, but we all pulled it together.  Personally, I feel like this semester's play was the best one we've done so far, especially on the first night.  It helped, probably, that my character was pretty much typecast in that he was an overly dramatic grammar Nazi which is, y'know, me.  And, as always, I love getting to know each new cast.  Lauren's last play will be next semester, and I've got three more on the way.  Part of me is considering doing something else during my senior year, but I feel like I shouldn't stop now.  Why not go for all eight semesters like Lauren has done?

In other news, I am positively in love with Thor: The Dark World.  I have seen in multiple times, mostly with different people.  I just love it so, so, so much.  And I like to think I'd like it without Loki, but he is a huge draw since his character development is one of the main reasons why I love the movie so much.  Ah, well.  It's wonderful.  I want to see it again.  I'm not sure I'll be able to wait the much-too-long length of time for it to come out on DVD.

Stress in the fast lane.

Well.  Where do I begin?  Normally I write blog entries more frequently, but it's been over a month since my last one.  Nothing particularly monumental has happened, except some bumps in the road here and there, and a whole lot of stress.

In terms of classes, that's a big part of where my stress is coming from.  My crappy memory really bites me in the butt when it comes to having to remember things like facts and dates.  I just have a hard time remembering things unless I drill it over, and over, and over, and sometimes even then it doesn't really work.  I can set my keys down somewhere and literally two seconds later, I can't find them.  I simply cannot remember where I put them.  Sometimes I'll say something and have absolutely no memory of saying it a minute later.  Lauren and Kat insisted that I did, in fact, proclaim my hunger, but I don't remember doing so.  So my inability to remember a lot of things worries me when it comes to, not only my French civilization class, but also my statistics course.  Luckily, for the test, we'll be allowed to use a formula sheet, which is good since my biggest obstacle is often remembering formulas.  But for French Civ. . . . I'll just have to drill facts and things into my head and hope they stick.

Speaking of things that are wrong with me, I have recently realized that I most likely have what is called stereo-blindness.  It is most often present in people who had lazy eye as a kid (moi) and who only use one eye most of the time (also moi).  To explain the latter part, it's not that I'm blind in one eye.  I just don't really use my right eye unless I'm looking at something far to my right that my left eye can't really see.  I can often close my right eye while looking at something and realize that my vision doesn't really change at all.  My mom noticed that I did this as a kid, and took my to the eye doctor, but nothing really came of it.  This is the reason that I can't see things in 3D and why the huge craze in releasing movies in 3D really sucks.  People  who see 3D use both eyes together constantly, but I can't really make myself do it.  Watching Toy Story 3 in 3D in theaters resulted in a nasty headache.  Sometimes I get flashes of 3D, like random confetti floating around the theater, but other than that, it's mostly lost on me.  Stereo-blindness also affects my depth perception, which explains why I can't catch a ball to save my life and why I really suck at basketball and can rarely make a basket.  I can't really judge how far away from me an object is.  For some people, this is extremely debilitating in that it makes it impossible for them to drive since they can't see how far away the other cars are, but that's not the case for me.  If I do have stereo-blindness, it doesn't, luckily, affect my driving at all.  If anything, it makes me more careful.

Driving.  Ah, yes.  I love it.  It's immensely fun.  But what's not fun is sitting in the Wal-Mart parking lot, the car in park, and watching some guy back his car up in an arc and smack into the front left side of your car. Lauren and I were fine, of course, but shaken and pissed off beyond belief.  The guy felt awful, his son in the back seat looked terrified, and he apologized profusely.  The car didn't hit the headlight, but just beneath it and right above the tire, leaving a very expensive dent.  (Luckily, the guy fully admits that it was HIS FAULT and is contacting his insurance agency and whatnot so he can pay for it.)  We weren't sure if the car could drive.  It didn't look like anything was touching the tire, so David and Deb told us to try to drive it home.  However, as soon as we turned right, we heard a scraping noise.  We managed to get back to the Wal-Mart parking lot, so as not to stay in someone's driveway, and attempted to call people for a ride home since David and Deb weren't in town at the moment.  Unfortunately, it was midterm break and no one was in Kirksville at the time.  Luckily for us, our wonderful friend Liz was available, and she and her husband came to pick us up.  Aren't they lovely?

But yes.  That was a fun-filled night.  We're fortunate that no one was hurt and that it's fully clear that it wasn't our fault.  The fact that I made the effort to park away from most of the people and we still got hit.  Ugh.

Anyway.  Because the car is undriveable at the moment, our magnificent marvelous Kat is coming to Kirksville today to pick us up and take us to Hannibal to spend the weekend with her.  YAY!  The Folklife Festival is coming, and I've been looking forward to it all year, and I am SO EXCITED.  I can't wait to see Kat.  My day ends at 1:30, and then I am FREEEEEE!!!

To explain the title: this semester is going by extremely quickly.  Holy crap.

I don't have a title, but that's okay.

My name is Ashlee.  I’m a twenty-two year-old junior studying French and English at university in the United States.  My hobbies include writing, singing, reading, graphic design, and occasionally some drawing and photography.  I do not enjoy math, broccoli, or Star Wars.  My favorite music genres extend from metal (Megadeth, Evanescence, Halestorm, Metallica) to French pop (Bruno Pelletier, Jule Zenatti, Marie-Mai, Cassiopée) to classical pop (Josh Groban) to plain old classical (Ludovico Einaudi).  My favorite movies are Disney’s The Hunchback of Notre-Dame, Titanic, and The Avengers.  My favorite actors are Tom Hiddleston, Kate Winslet, Helena Bonham Carter, and Johnny Depp.  I’m not overly fond of Tom Cruise, Benedict Cumberbatch, or Kirsten Dunst.  My favorite books are Dracula, the Harry Potter series, The Lord of the Rings, and The Lovely Bones.  My least-favorite movie is Jurassic Park III.  Some of my random interests include the Titanic (as in the actual ship, not just the movie), dinosaurs, the French language, and grammar.  I love video games like The Legend of Zelda, The Sims, World of Warcraft, and almost anything from the Mario franchise.

My interests make up a big part of my personality because similar interests are often how I make friends.  But besides that, I like to think I’m pretty funny and have a good sense of humor.  I’ve been told I’m witty.  I can be sarcastic, although hopefully not to the point where I’m mean about it.  I care about others and want people to be happy.  Sometimes I put other people before myself even when I shouldn’t.  When I love something, I really love something.  I’m a passionate person, and I’m also dramatic.  I also procrastinate far too much and my biggest personal battle is probably laziness.  I was extremely bullied throughout middle- and high school and therefore I may have a harder exterior upon first glance.  I’ve been told that I can be intimidating at first even though I consider myself a snuggly, happy person who just wants love.

That’s the thing.  All I’ve ever wanted throughout my life is to be liked and accepted.  I may not look happy when you see me walking around campus, but that’s just because I’m not a naturally smiley person; my neutral face apparently makes me look like I’m upset or angry.  But I’m not.  I may not be outgoing enough to be able to approach you and say hi, but I want to.  If you come up to me, I would be overjoyed to talk to you.  We don’t have to have the same interests.  I want to be everyone’s friend, but it’s not always reciprocal.  I used to think college was beyond the petty high school ideal that you can only be friends with certain people, but maybe I was wrong.  But I’d still like to try.

The point of this?  Attention?  Maybe I just need assurance that I’m not a completely repulsive human being and that just because one group of people didn’t like me enough to want to get to know me, it doesn’t mean everyone is like that.  Maybe.

"We are titanium." (Airport adventures, part two.)

So I've finally decided to finish my earlier blog post, which chronicles the nightmare Lauren and I experienced while attempting to fly home from Québec City.  When we left off, Lauren and I had just arrived in Chicago, and I bestowed upon my wonderful readers a cliff-hanger.  Muwaha.  Now, 'tis time to continue.

When we got to Chicago, we knew that the first thing we needed to do was to find someone from Delta to give us hotel vouchers.  There was no possible way we would be able to get to St. Louis that night, so we had accepted the fact that the only solution was to stay the night in Chicago.  However, as I mentioned, we only had about $40 CAD with us in cash.  We'd also gone the whole day without eating anything except a banana and a muffin before flying from Québec City.

The Delta terminal of the O'Hare airport was deserted.  Of course, at 9:00, no more flights were going out and only a few were coming in.  However, we knew that we couldn't go past the security checkpoint, as it was unlikely that anyone on the other side would be able to help us.  And, of course, the large Delta help desk was empty, as well.  There were, however, phones that lined the wall which dialed automatically to a service line.  Lauren called and they told us to find someone at a gate to help us.  Well, of course, every gate was vacant.  Eventually we found a group of three talking to a woman at a gate, so we got in line behind them.  Judging by their accents, language, and the mention of Moscow, they were Russian.  We waited behind them for thirty to forty-five minutes while the woman behind the desk tried to get them hotel vouchers.  It seemed that they had the same problem.

Luckily, by the time we reached her, she had figured out what needed to be done to get hotel vouchers and she didn't ask too many questions.  Waiting was frustrating, though.  The three people seemed to treat it like it was just a huge game, laughing and speaking loudly in Russian when the woman was on the phone trying to sort things out.  One woman even started taking pictures at some point.  Nevertheless, we were glad when they left and fervently hoped we would never have to see them again.  (Foreshadow much?)

After getting our hotel and meal vouchers, Lauren and I decided to check in for our flight the following morning as per Deb's advice.  The people at United were very friendly and helpful, but they were unable to check us in for the flight saying that, since it had been ordered online, it was too soon to print out a ticket.  But she saw our names, told us our seat numbers, and confirmed everything for us.  So we were in the system.  After grabbing some fast food from the only restaurant that was open in the airport, we followed the earlier woman's instructions on how to get to the bus shuttle area.  It took a little longer than anticipated, but we finally got there around 10:00 or so.  We had been booked for the Crowne Plaza, so we waited and waited and waited for what seemed like forever until finally the shuttle showed up.  Lauren and I clamored on and were quite relieved to finally be able to relax.

Heh.

When we got to the hotel, we handed the man behind the counter our voucher, and he just kind of stared at it for a moment.  Then, finally, he said, "You're at the wrong hotel."  It turned out that there were two Crowne Plazas in the area: one closer to the airport and one in Northbrook.  We had been booked into the one in Northbrook, but we hadn't realized that there were two hotels.  Luckily, we managed to catch the shuttle driver before he left, and he drove us back to the airport.  He was very nice and apologetic; he felt bad for not having looked more closely at my voucher to see that it was the wrong hotel.  He told us where to go to wait, so we waited and waited and waited some more.

After a while, we began panicking.  Why?  Because I suddenly noticed on the voucher that it said Valid until 11 P.M. despite the fact that the woman at the gate had told us that it was valid until midnight.  Lauren and I were at wit's end by this point.  We were so stressed, exhausted, and hungry (we still hadn't eaten our cold McDonald's yet), and we were at our breaking point.  Among the lists of hotels inside the airport, there was no number for either Crowne Plaza.  At a loss, we called Deb, and she called the hotel for us.  She was told that the bus would be there in twenty to twenty-five minutes and that it wouldn't be a problem to come after midnight.  So we relaxed ever so slightly.

When the bus finally showed up, it felt like a huge weight had been lifted.  We were, of course, joined in the shuttle by the three Russians from earlier.  The twenty minute drive to the hotel lagged, and Lauren and I both nearly fell asleep in our seats.  When we got there, we tried to zoom off the bus to get to the desk first, but the three people beat us and took forever.  It was probably another fifteen minutes before we were finally able to go up and check in to the hotel.  We reserved a shuttle for the next morning at 6 and promptly passed out in our very nice room.

Oh, but wait!  There's more!

We were down in the lobby the next morning by 5:45, ready to go as soon as possible.  But by 6:05, we still hadn't left.  Why?  Because it seemed that one of the Russians was still asleep and the other two couldn't get her to open her door.  So they wanted hotel staff to open it for them, but they also wanted to hold the shuttle bus until they were all ready to go.  Luckily, the woman in charge said, "Look, this girls have a plane to catch.  You need to take them to the airport."  So we left.

We had been afraid that we wouldn't be able to find the United Airlines check-in from the bus shuttle area, but after confirming our airline, the driver (who was the same one from last night) was kind enough to drop us off right in front of the correct door of United.  We went inside to check ourselves in, but everything went to hell when I tried to scan my passport.  It told me that we needed to get an employee to help us, so we went to go check ourselves in manually.  When we handed her our passports, the woman was confused.

"Are you sure your flight is United?" she asked.  Oh, God.  Not again.  Lauren and I just about lost it.  For some reason it took them a little while to actually find our reservations.  But when they did, it only got worse.

"Oh, okay, here's the problem," the woman said.  "I found the tickets, but they haven't been paid for yet."

WHAT?!  SERIOUSLY?!  All of the expletives I know were running through my head at that point.  It seemed like Delta was doing everything in their power to screw us over.  They had booked us the flight on United, but now they hadn't paid for it?!  I about lost it.  I asked what the price was, if I could just pay for it myself, but the women continued to try to find a solution.  We called Deb, and she talked to them, as it was easier, since she had been talking with Delta to make the reservation.  From what I gathered, even though Delta hadn't paid for the flight, they put us on it anyway and gave us our tickets.  The women were very nice and helpful.  Delta was not.  By the time everything was sorted out, we had an hour to get through Chicago security to our gate.

We did.  We made it through security, we got to our gate, and everything was okay.  The plane left on time, it was a very short trip, and we made it to St. Louis at about 9:30.

But wait!  There's more!

You remember how we had to leave our luggage in order to make the flight that we didn't make?  Yeah.  Turns out it had been lost the whole time.  When we got to St. Louis, we went down to the baggage claim.  Delta had found Lauren's.  Somehow it had gotten shipped from JFK to Atlanta, Delta's main hub, and finally to St. Louis.  Mine was missing and they didn't know where it was.  And because we had last flown on United, even though my luggage never touched a United plane, Delta refused to help us.  They told us we had to file a claim through United.

The people at United were very helpful and friendly, as they had been the whole time.  We described my suitcase to them and listed a couple of contents inside that would identify it as mine.  What did I list?  A tattered, gray bear who calls himself Sammy.  That's right, people.  Sammy was in the bag.  Many of you probably know how special this bear is to me.  So to have lost him, to not know if I would ever get him back, was torturous.  But the people assured us that they would find the suitcase and send it to us as soon as humanly possible.

And they did.  I got a text message from Deb on Monday night saying that my suitcase had been found and was being Fed-Ex'd to the house.  By 11 o'clock the next morning, it was in their possession, and Sammy was waiting for me.  Everything ended well.

The story may have a "happy ending," but that doesn't change the fact that Lauren and I spent twenty-five hours traveling because of Delta's incompetence.  It was truly a nightmare.  She and I exemplified Murphy's Law.  And Delta was completely unwilling to help or to take responsibility for their screw-ups.  I can honestly say that I will never fly Delta again.  (And that's saying something, since I fly at least twice a year.)  I hope I never have to go through that again.  If any of my readers have to fly, I highly suggest that you avoid Delta.  Take United; I've only had good luck with them.  I also intend to avoid the JFK airport for the rest of my life.  Thank God all this hell is behind me.

"Sorry for the inconvenience."

Many, if not all, of you have probably seen my last few Facebook statuses in which I somewhat vaguely talk about the "nightmare" that was traveling on Saturday and Sunday.  Well, now it's finally time for the world to get the whole store.  Buckle in, because it will not be fun.

What might have been the first "bad omen" happened on Friday morning.  Lauren and I had been waiting to hear back from someone in the program at the university about sharing a taxi in order to cut down costs, but they never followed up on what they said they would do.  So that morning I went to the main taxi service's website, Coop Taxi, and started to make an online reservation until I saw that it wouldn't let me?  Why?  Because reservations for that website need to be made at least forty-eight hours in advance.  At this point, I started freaking out.  It was the morning of my last class - in which I had an exam - and I was trying to study and find another taxi service at the same time.  There was no way we could take the bus; it would take us about a thirty-minute walk from the airport.  Plus, it wasn't at all practical to take our luggage onto one of those things.  Finally I found another taxi service that was much more flexible about their reservation dates, Taxi Laurier.  I called them up with the phone in my room that the university provided and went to take my test.

The next morning, I was up at 6:30 to finish up my last-minute packing to get ready to go.  It wasn't too terribly difficult.  We met the taxi down in front of the building and took off towards the airport.  The driver was very nice and asked us about our trip, if we liked Québec, if we liked Obama since we're Americans, and told us to speak French as much as possible.  When we got to the airport, that was when things started to go wrong.

Lauren and I went to the self check-in booth and everything was fine at first until we went to pay for the checked bag we each had.  We could even pay for them separately, which was convenient.  Except for the fact that it wouldn't take my card.  It wouldn't even acknowledge that it was there.  Though we've had a few difficulties regarding using my card over the border, we'd thought that at an airport that wouldn't be a problem.  Luckily, the screen said we could pay with cash.  So I went to the opposite end of the terminal to withdraw $40 for the $25 fee.  When I got back, I had to start over, and then Lauren and I went up to the front to the baggage drop.  The first thing the woman said was, "If you're going to pay in cash, I don't have any change."  What?  Seriously?  When I asked if she took my certain credit card, she said yes.  REALLY?  In the U.S. it wouldn't have been a big deal to have withdrawn $40.  But I knew I was extremely unlikely to spend the money while in Canada, which would mean I would need to find a change bureau or a bank or SOMETHING at some point of I wanted the money back, which would turn into $38 eventually.  Gah.

Our flight was scheduled for 11:03.  We noticed when we got there that it had been delayed thirty minutes.  This wasn't that big of a deal, since we had a long layover.  Then, when we checked in, the woman said it had been delayed an hour.  Okay.  We'd still be okay getting to our connecting flight.  Then, when I checked the screen as we settled down at the gate, it said that the flight to New York had been delayed for two hours.  Not okay.  There was no way would make our connecting flight, especially not with the need to go through customs and security again.  Lauren called her mom, and after a lot of arrangements she got us on another flight to Chicago and then to St. Louis, but with American Airlines.  She told us that we needed to get from Delta to the American Airlines terminal for the flight at 5:05, which was definitely doable.

The flight, which left at 1:00, to New York was fine.  We got into the airport, and customs was a snap.  It was quick and easy, though with the confusion and people, it reminded me of the pictures I'd seen on Ellis Island and all the immigrants.  (Although with much better conditions.)  When Lauren and I were through customs, we were told to wait at Carousel 4 for our luggage, which would need to be checked again.  So we waited.  And waited.  And waited.  And waited.  People starting going up to Delta employees and we were told that the luggage "would be here soon."  Eventually, our flight number was spotted on a different carousel, so we all migrated over there.  And waited.  And waited.  After two hours, at four o'clock, people were panicking.  Some, like us, had flights coming up, and some had already missed their flights since customs wouldn't let us leave without our luggage.  The Delta employees were extremely unhelpful.  They just kept saying that they had reconfirmed that the luggage was on its way, that it would be there momentarily, that they were "sorry for the inconvenience."  Finally, one employee decided to take us through customs himself to work out getting connecting flights.  Because Lauren and I were switching airlines, we weren't sure if our luggage had been sent to American Airlines or if it was still with Delta.  When we entered the room with the man and the small number of others who were switching airlines, he looked out our baggage ticket and said that we were, in fact, in the wrong place.  So we had to run as fast as humanly possible to American Airlines, which was on the complete opposite side of the building.

When we finally got there, we couldn't get through.  The woman at the front of security didn't understand that we'd had flights booked on American Airlines instead of Delta, and since we didn't have any sort of ticket information, we couldn't prove it.  She told us that, to rebook a flight, we needed to go through Delta.  So we ran back to Delta, waited in line for what was at least forty-five minutes, to talk to a woman at "Kiosk Assistance."  She started working on getting us another flight until she said, "Oh, crap" and then proceeded to inform us that she couldn't book us on another flight because we had, apparently checked in with American Airlines.  WHAT?!  This was insane.  Not only that, but the only plane going to St. Louis was the next afternoon.  After another fifteen minutes, she got the madness with us being on American Airlines sorted out, but that still left the issue that we were stuck in New York.

"What about a hotel?" I asked.  "Where are we supposed to stay?"

The woman had seemed skeptical.  "Well . . . I could try to put you girls up in a hotel tonight..."

SERIOUSLY?!  Lauren and I were ready to strangle this woman.  We were here due to the fault of Delta, and they wouldn't even put us into a hotel for the night?  All we had were forty Canadian dollars.  We could not afford a hotel, food, and taxi in New York.  There was absolutely no way we could afford it.  That would not work, and we didn't want to run around to try to find someone who would put us in a hotel.

"How close can we get to St. Louis?" I demanded.  "What about Chicago?  Can we get to Chicago?"

At that point, we just wanted to get out of New York, and Lauren pointed out that we could take the train to Quincy, Illinois.  The only problem was our baggage.  There was a flight to Chicago at 7:00, so the woman agreed to put us on that one.  She also gave us business class as a way to "apologize for the inconvenience."  Fine, whatever.  We felt we deserved it at that point.  So we practically ran to security and got there as quickly as humanly possible, despite the fact that it was slow going.  While we waited, Lauren's parents called to tell us that they had booked us on another flight from Chicago to St. Louis with United Airlines the next morning.  No matter what, we would be staying in Chicago that night.  At least it was better than New York.

Business class, though it was Delta, was pretty nice.  Pillow, blanket, mini pretzels coming out the wazoo.  The few above the clouds, especially with the setting sun, was beautiful.  Lauren and I were able to relax ever so slightly.  Until we got to Chicago.

To be continued since I have to go get ready to drive to Kirksville. XD

Au revoir, le Québec...

This is it. . . .  I am currently sitting in my dorm room in Québec City.  It's 6:55 in the morning.  The taxi arrives at 8 A.M. to take Lauren and me to the airport.  We'll fly to New York at 11 and eventually arrive in St. Louis at around 5 P.M.  We'll have dinner with Lauren's parents and drive back to Hannibal.  On Sunday, we'll see our best friend, Kat, (for me, it will have been about seven weeks since I've seen her), and on Monday morning I'll go up to Kirksville to move into the dorm at Truman while Lauren stays behind in Hannibal to spend some time with her family.  Life will resume as it always does and in some ways I feel like the past five weeks here will have never happened.

But they did.  My habit/obsession of taking countless photos has really come in handy over the past month.  I'm glad I've captured so many memories, both from before the session at the university started and during the session.  I've made friends, I've met new people, I've learned so much about this culture that I already loved but now love even more.  People asked me "Why Québec?"  Even people in Québec asked me why I chose to come here and not France.  Some people thought that I was just settling for Québec in lieu of going to France.  But that's not the case.  I love Québec.  I love everything about it.  I love its culture, its people, its food, its art, its streets, its buildings, its cities.  One only needs to look at the photos I've taken over the past week to know "Why Québec".  I don't need to go to France.  Sure, I'd like to go one day, but this is my ultimate goal.  People didn't understand that I'm not in some limbo stage before the French major's mecca.  This is it for me.  I did it.  I came to Québec, I lived here for five weeks, and I loved every minute of it.

There's not one moment that I regret.  I wish I could stay.  I wish I could stay here and bring my loved ones up so we wouldn't be separated.  I know there's no way I can wait another four years before I come back.  I can't stay away.  While I'm so looking forward to seeing my loved ones, leaving Québec now is one of the hardest things I've ever done.  I am so very blessed and fortunate to be here, and immensely grateful to everyone who has helped me and been with me through this whole experience.  My uncle; David and Deb; my mom, aunt, and sister; Lauren and Kat; François; Madeleine; Ekaterina; Sarah and Gloria; Gabrielle; Bruno.  I don't want to leave.  Yet part of me knows that it's time.

Please excuse me while I go cry.  Sniff sniff.

Bruno Pelletier et le GrosZorchestre

Oh, my.  How can I even begin to describe what happened yesterday?  It feels like a dream, but at the same time it's so real and vivid.  (I suppose it helps that my new laptop background is a certain photo...)  Regardless of how positively difficult it might be, I shall attempt to chronicle the events of yesterday.  (If I don't, I seem to have a habit of rapidly forgetting it.)

Yesterday started out like normal, of course.  I woke up at 6:45, got dressed, and went to take a test in my Québec culture class at 8:30.  As much as I love the subject matter, I found the class itself to be immensely difficult.  But that's beside the point.  I finished the test at around 9:30 and, since it was raining, took the underground tunnel system from le Pavillon Desjardins to Lacerte, my residence building.  It was actually the first time I'd taken the tunnel system, having pretty much forgotten about it, but I intend to show it to Lauren today at some point since she'll love the art all over the place.  Anyway.  I went back to the dorm, took a small nap, and finished getting ready.  I was originally going to wear the long, black dress I got for The Lion King last summer, but I wanted something a little less dressy, so I settled with my light blue top with the laced back and a denim skirt.  Not bad, methinks.  Since we needed to leave very shortly after Lauren got back from her class at 12, I made us some PB&J sandwiches and had them ready by the time she got home so we could munch and go.  Which we did.

The rain had lightened up by the time we headed to the bus stop at Desjardins.  I had been worried about the weather all week since weather.com insisted that Québec and Lévis would be plagued with scattered and isolated thunder storms and the concert was outdoors.  Nevertheless, I refused to let that bring me down too much.  We took our regular accordion bus to the Station Place d'Youville, which is right by where we stayed in our hotel at the beginning of July, and squeezed our way through the crowd down rue St-Jean.  We made it all the way down the steps to Basse-Québec and then finally down to the ferry station to take the, you guessed it, ferry to Lévis.  We arrived at exactly the right time, 1:30, and the ferry left mere minutes after we got on.  I had been planning everything to the T for about two weeks, making sure we knew exactly where we were going, and everything went smoothly.  Go me.

Lauren and I arrived in Lévis at about 1:45 or so.  The first thing we did was find the stage.  What we needed to do was go right a little ways down the street and up the side of a cliff by means of a steep staircase.  Boy, was that fun.  Then the stage was directly up the street (literally up - don't you love hills).  The first thing we saw was a barrier closing off the road to traffic, so we figured that was it.  When we passed the barrier, it became all too clear that we were, in fact, in the right place.  Directly in front of us was the stage, which was situated in a little square area.  Lauren and I hung out for a bit, looking around.  We saw Maurice, Bruno's tour manager, to whom we would need to speak a little later.  Then Lauren froze.

"Ashlee," she said, her eyes growing wide, "turn around.  That man . . .that man in the plaid giving the interview. . . . Is that . . .?"

I turned around and, sure enough, there he was.  "Yep, that's Bruno," I said, sounding amazingly calm.  I don't know why on earth I was so calm since I had been bouncing off the walls the entire past week.  Lauren was in shock, but for some reason I was mellow.  But it was an amazing moment for both of us, just to see him for the first time.  For me, I hadn't seen him in almost four years.  Lauren had never seen him.  She had been waiting six or seven years to see him and there he was, just casually standing there in front of a camera.  He was giving an interview not too far from us, and we inched slowly closer, not wanting to get too close and get his attention, but just a liiiittle closer.  When he went to go give another interview a few paces away, Lauren and I decided to walk around Lévis a bit until we met up with Ekaterina and her family.

What's interesting to note is how chill everyone is.  If this were a concert in the U.S., Lauren and I wouldn't have been able to get anywhere close to the stage or to Bruno.  When I was in Montréal, my friend François told me that if people saw Bruno on the streets, they would just be like, "Oh, look, it's Bruno Pelletier."  The idea is that celebrities in Québec are just people, which is true, but it's such a different way of looking at it from the American standard.  In America, celebrities are mini-gods.  The Québec view is one of the reasons why I love the fact that I have so many favorite artists in Québec: because they are so accessible.  For crying out loud, I had singing lessons with one of my all-time favorite singers.  How often to fans of American artists get to do that?  (I'm not saying that one nationality is better than the other - I like plenty of American groups and artists.  I'm just saying I love the personal accessibility.)

Lauren and I (well, I kind of dragged her) decided to walk in front of the stage on the sidewalk on the other side of the square to get to another street.  This meant walking by Bruno.  He was off to the side, a good distance away from us, and we wanted to be absolutely sure that we didn't get his attention, distract him, or anything like that.  Honestly, we just wanted to walk.  We passed Maurice and his tour people with no problem (again - not something that would happen in the U.S.) and glanced at Bruno to our right as he gave the interview.  Well, I did.  Lauren refused to.

We had a little time to kill, so we walked up to the Terrasse de Lévis to get a view of the river and of Québec.  We absolutely love looking at the Château Frontenac, even though we've seen it so many times.  It never gets old.  As we sat down on a bench, Lauren and I began to notice just how much our attitudes had switched.  I was pretty chill and calm about the whole thing, but she was bouncing off the figurative walls.  It was quite adorable.  I was the exact same way when I saw Bruno for the first time, so I'm not one to talk.

At around 2:30 we headed back to Côte du Passage, the street where the concert would take place, and met up with Ekaterina and her family.  It was like one big Bruno celebration.  (I'd never met Ekaterina beforehand, but now I can probably safely say I've met three-fourths of Bruno's U.S. fans.)  We talked a little about meeting Bruno, and she said that she had been told that Bruno remembered me from last time.  It took a second for me to register this fact.  We hung out for a little bit, chatting until it was time to go meet Maurice.  We were instructed to find him from three o'clock to four, before the sound check.  Though we had seen him earlier, he had disappeared by this point.  We waited by the barriers the blocked off the area beside the stage with the tents and the trailer for about five minutes until Maurice suddenly appeared.  He and Ekaterina greeted each other and then Lauren and I introduced ourselves.  Maurice informed us that we would be meeting Bruno separately, and, all of sudden, told Lauren and I to follow him and told Ekaterina and her family to wait there.

The only thought going through my head as we followed Maurice to the small parking lot/trailer area was, "I'm not ready.  I'm not ready."  By now my calm, chill attitude had completely vanished.  I was freaking out.  I didn't know what to say, what to do.  Last time I'd met Bruno, I had made a fool of myself.  I didn't want to do the same thing three-and-a-half years later.  We stopped outside the big, white trailer and Maurice popped his head into the door to let Bruno know that we were there.  While we waited, we chatted a bit with Maurice, about how last time I couldn't even speak French and that now I was really nervous, and he said it was no big deal.

Then, suddenly, the door to the trailer opened and Bruno appeared.  I stopped mid-sentence, turned to look at him, and chirped, "Bonjour!"  Apparently Lauren could only stare for a moment.  Bruno came down the steps and greeted us, first talking to me for a moment and asking how I was.  I admit, my voice was a little high-pitched for a bit.  When he asked Lauren her name, it occurred to me that he really did remember me.  He had spoken to me like he knew me, not like someone he was meeting for the first time.  Him remembering me from October of 2009 was not something I had anticipated at all.  He meets so many fans all the time, how could he possibly remember one young woman from four years ago?  I find it rather crazy.

I wish I remember exactly what we talked about.  He asked us how long we had been in Québec and if we liked it.  He asked Lauren what she was studying in college, and she said that she was going to be a graphic arts designer, which he seemed to think was cool.  When he mentioned my own studies, he seemed to kind of already know.  I think he said something along the lines of, "So you're studying French . . .?" to which I replied in the affirmative.  When we were talking about the fact that Lauren is an artist, I kind of nodded toward the white folder she was holding.  He looked at it and said rather mischievously and knowingly, "Do you have something to show me?"  Lauren smiled and said, "Yeeeees," in her adorable, shy way.  Both he and Maurice were very impressed with Lauren's art.  Bruno said he remembered the two photo shoots, when they were, and said that "it really looks like me."  Bruno also said that she is very good at capturing faces.  Lauren about died, let me just say.  At the bottom of one of the drawings was where Lauren had signed it.  It's said, "Bon anniversaire, cher Bruno!  Lauren 'rat-patooty' Priest (18)"  He read all of this aloud (at which point Lauren and I remembered to wish him a bonne fête en retard) and the way he said "rat-patooty" was quite funny.  I explained that it came from the would "ratatouille," and he nodded as if that made sense, and Lauren explained that it was her name on deviantART.  He asked what the 18 was for, and she said that that was how old she had been when she drew it.  He replied, "So how old are you now?" and when he both replied that we were almost 22, he looked at me and said, "You have almost 22, too?"  Heehee.  Have.  I love it.

Bruno is very inquisitive.  He asked lots of questions, like why Lauren had a key around her wrist, when we were going back to the U.S., etc.  What I thought was wonderful was that when he saw that Lauren was a little shyer and not saying much, he made an effort to talk to her, both in French and English.  He spoke mainly to me in French, because that was what I wanted, but he took Lauren's lead and spoke whatever language she wanted.  In the beginning, he'd asked if she spoke French, too, and she said she was "studying" it, and I had to assure him that she did, in fact, speak French.  He and Maurice both seemed impressed by the fact that I spoke French almost the whole time; probably since they knew I hadn't spoken it at all the last time I saw them.  What Lauren and I both noticed was that, while talking to Bruno, my French and my fluidity was the best it's ever been over the past few weeks.  I rarely stumbled, and if I did, I picked myself back up again.  I've never been able to speak to fluidly or quickly, and I had been worried that  I wouldn't be able to speak French at all.  The fact that Maurice even told Ekaterina later that I spoke French the whole time, that he was that impressed, made me oh so very fuzzy.

What was probably my favorite part was when we mentioned that we went to Montréal a couple of weekends ago.  I told him that I had met Gabrielle Destroismaisons and that I had had vocal coaching with her.  I also told him that she had practically threatened my life if I didn't say hi for her.  My words were, "Elle m'a dit à te dire qu'elle dit 'Bonjour.'"  I also added, in English, that she had said, "Really, tell him I say hi!  I have his personal email, so I'll know if you tell him or not!"  Bruno thought this was quite humorous, and said that he would Tweet her on Twitter to let her know that I said hi.  I hope he does; if not, I will. :P  He then proceeded to ask about the coaching that she was doing, so I explained what exactly it was, and told him that, at the end, we all wanted to sing a song together that we all know, so we decided, "Aime!"  He thought this was rather funny, as well.  I told him that we all just sat together, the three "students" and Gabrielle, and sang Aime, and he just laughed and said, "Oh, Gabrielle."  Bruno said that she is such a good singer and that she has such a good soul, which I found adorable since she said pretty much the exact same thing about him.

One other thing we talked about was the fact that I had begun to study French just because I wanted to understand his lyrics, and I thanked him for his music and for giving me this new-found passion and life in French, and he was just like, "Ah, no biggy."  It was funny.  At one point, while we were in the middle of talking, a woman walked by and positively gushed at him, squealing about how much she loved Le temps des cathédrales and asked if she could take a picture with him.  Bruno was very polite and said, "Of course!" and gave the camera to Maurice to take the picture.  As he got into position, he said, "Sorry, girls," to us, switching to random English for a moment.  When the woman left, we happily resumed our conversation.  After what felt like two seconds but was actually probably closer to 10 to 15 minutes, it was time to go.  Lauren and I asked if we could each get a picture with him, and he responded with the same, "Of course!"  I was first, and when he put his arm around me, I about died.  Why?  Because when I first saw him in 2009, the Swine Flu was going around, and he wasn't getting that close to his fans for pictures.  And now his arm was around me.  It was awesome. XD  After my picture, I took Lauren's camera to take hers, but for some reason it wouldn't take.  When I put the camera down, he started to head back into the trailer, but I quickly asked him if we could try again.  There was no way I was letting Lauren leave without a picture.  She had me take a picture of the ground to see if it worked (it did - and she posted it on Facebook for some odd reason) and then I took the picture of the two of them.  We thanked him and said goodbye, and headed back out to where Ekaterina and her family were waiting.

Siiiigh.  While we waited for Ekaterina to finish talking to Bruno, Lauren and I gushed and gushed and gushed about what had just happened.  We were in shock.  When Ekaterina and her family emerged, we all walked down the street to Chocolats Favoris, a great ice cream shop.  You can have soft-serve vanilla dipped in hardening syrup.  I had vanilla dipped in white chocolate.  AMAZING.

After our ice cream break, Ekaterina, Lauren, and I really wanted to go watch Bruno's sound check.  Her family didn't, so they went to go hang out while the three of us super-mega-fans went back to the venue, settled in the chairs that Ekaterina had brought, and watched.  It was rather fun.  He grinned at us at one point, and that was even more fun.  When they finished the sound check, he said "Merci, tout le monde!" with a grin to all those few who had been watching, and left the stage.  A little while later we saw him heading down the street, presumably to get some dinner before the show.  Sooooo we waited.

And waited.  And waited.  And waited.  Not that we minded.  We hung out, talked, gushed, talked, and gushed some more.  When it was about an hour before the start of the performance, Lauren and I left the chairs to stand in front of the barrier, which would be our spot for the evening.  Let me just say, it was an amazing spot.  We would be right to Bruno's left, literally about ten feet away from the microphone.  At 7:30, the sponsors and directors for the festival came onto the stage and talked for quite a while about the festival itself and its sponsors and money and all that fun stuff.  Finally he introduced, "le GrosZorchestre!" and the group came out: Julie Lamontagne on the piano, Dave Watts on the bass, and Richard Irwin on the drums.  They did an opening number before Bruno jogged out in a lovely suit with a dark blue shirt and sang Just You, Just Me and then Fragile.  It was so amazing to see him in front of us, singing with that unreal voice of his.  It was incredible.

My personal favorite songs of the evening were Ma vie, Kiss from a Rose, and With or Without You.  Of course I loved Le temps des cathédrales and Miserere - who doesn't?  He had a new arrangement of Aime, which was absolutely beautiful and a little different.  He teased the audience about not knowing the words to Hotel California (I think Lauren and I were the loudest ones singing with him), said that that day was his wedding anniversary and was thereby obligated by his wife to sing their song, Just the Way You Are as "payback" for not remembering at first what the 8th of August was.  Ooooopsie.

The show was absolutely amazing.  When it was all over, Lauren and I were in shock.  But, gradually, we came to. We said goodbye to Ekaterina and started back on the walk down the hill and the long staircase.  On the ferry, looking out at le Château Frontenac, we got a little emotional.  We knew that our trip was just about over.  We were ready for classes to end, but not ready to leave Québec.  We're still not.  The past five weeks have been absolutely unbelievable.  I am so incredibly lucky and blessed to have had so many amazing opportunities.  All I know is that I have to come back.  And hopefully it won't be another four years before I can do so. :)

A year ago today...

It's hard to believe how quickly time tends to fly when you're not expecting it to.  To look back at one's life in the past year to see how much it has changed can be incredible.  To many people this might just be an ordinary Wednesday on an ordinary date in August.  But for my family, it's a marked day that we all recognize.  A year ago today, on August 7, 2012, my uncle lost his short battle to cancer.  It was the first time I'd ever known someone who died (and it still is), and it was the hardest time of my life.  It was made even harder by the fact that I couldn't be with my mom, aunt, and sister until that Christmas.  I'm glad they were all able to fly to California for his memorial, but at the same time I wish I could have gone.

There are so many things I wish I could say to my uncle that I will never be able to.  I have been in Québec for almost five weeks.  Five amazing weeks that I wouldn't trade for anything.  Yet I would not be here without him.  It's a very sobering thought to realize that I wouldn't be living my dreams if not for the death of my uncle.  Without his so generous gift after his death, I never would have been able to come here.  Even though he and I didn't talk much, I know he believed in me and wanted me to be happy and to be successful.  Without him, I wouldn't be having so many amazing experiences.  This is the most amazing thing to ever happen to me, and yet to know that it wouldn't be happening without the death of my uncle. . . .

I am so eternally grateful for everything that has happened in my life.  I feel like the luckiest person in the world.  I have an amazing family, amazing friends, an amazing school, and so many amazing opportunities that I never thought I would be able to have.  Through the sadness surrounding my uncle's death, he brought about something so positive and amazing and life-changing that I will be forever thanking him in my heart.  It's very interesting to hear other students at this university who are only here because it was free or nearly free, that Québec wasn't their first choice.  And here I am, here because of my uncle's gift that was brought about by his death, so eternally grateful and amazing at how blessed I have been.  I feel blessed to have spent the time that I did with my uncle, and I miss him every single day and thank him just as often.  Throughout everything, I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

A religious observation

Okay, so this post has nothing to do with being in Québec.  But it's been on my mind for a while.

So.  As most everyone knows, I was raised Mormon.  I have absolutely no problem saying this.  Growing up, I absolutely loved my religion and my faith.  From the time I was three, I knew all the Primary songs, I looked forward to going to the temple, and I wanted to have what I thought was the perfect Mormon life.  I didn't really develop my own faith and belief until I was a young teenager.  I went through what was a slight "punk-ish" stage in that I didn't care about religion at all and developed a combative attitude due to the people I hung out with.  After my parents divorced when I was nine, my mom didn't force us to go to church every Sunday.  Eventually, my sister quit going completely.  I had sporadic attendance in my early adolescence in California and didn't really start going to church again until I was thirteen.

It was at this time that my belief in the Church really took off.  I went to Young Women's Camp for the first time that year, which was an absolutely amazing experience (even though I don't remember that specific year all that much).  It was also the first time I went to do Baptisms for the Dead at the Oakland, California Temple.  (The Temple in which, incidentally, I was sealed to my family at the age of about four.)  It was an amazing experience that I have always treasured.  From age thirteen until age eighteen, I went to Girls' Camp every summer.  Three camps were in California, one in Georgia, and two in Kentucky (or West Virginia, if you will).  Camp really helped me develop as a young woman and helped me to have a leadership position, especially in my last three years in which I was a leader-in-training.  At sixteen I helped to teach a first aid class and at seventeen and eighteen I found myself looking after two different group of girls whom I really grew to love.  Since my adolescence, I have had so many spiritual experiences, whether at Camp or at the Temple.  I absolutely loved my religion.

Yet I always knew I was different.  I'm not going to go into why I left the church at the age of eighteen.  (I did that a while ago.)  But I did leave it, or mostly.  At least I tried to.  Clean breaks are always the easiest, right?  Well, I couldn't do it.  Every once and a while I found something that would draw me back to church on Sunday, no matter how much I told myself that I no longer believed in it.  I can never let myself forget the amazing sense of warmth, comfort, and safety that I felt when I believed that I was a daughter of God.

And yet.  And yet, and yet, and yet.  Here I am, the little agnostic who doesn't know her place in the world.  Looking around the Internet, anti-Mormon sentiments are everywhere.  One would think that, since I no longer consider myself to be a Mormon, I would jump on that bandwagon.  Except I don't.  I find myself still taking the hurtful comments personally.  There are so many ex-Mormons who bash the religion constantly, who dedicate blogs and websites to anti-Mormonism, to spend their lives trying to bash the Church and turn people away from it.  And then there's me.  Me, the little agnostic who thinks Mormons are the nicest, most accepting people on the planet.  Me, whose heart skips a beat when she sees a beautiful, white building rising in the distance with a golden angel perched on top.  Me, who listens to the few hymns she has on her iPod when all other comfort fails.  Me, who refuses to call herself a Mormon and who cannot bring herself to follow the Church and its doctrines.  

I drive myself mad, to be perfectly honest.  Am I the only "ex-Mormon" in the world to still love the Church and its members?  Am I  the only one who thinks of her life as a Mormon fondly with no regrets?  I have not one single regret when it comes to my upbringing as a Christian.  I believe that it has made me a good person, a strong woman.  What on earth do I do with myself?  I feel like I'm pulling a "do as I say, not as I do."  Lauren told me I'm the only person she knows of who is still so fond of the religion in which they grew up yet who no longer believes in it.  I confuse myself.

I'm not sure what the point was supposed to be for this post.  But I just decided to get my feelings out.  Noodles and gravy, my dear people.  Sing it loud.

Wow.

The past two days have been amazing.  Lauren and I took a bus to Montréal, we met one of our favorite singers, explored the beautiful city, met a good friend of mine, and stayed in a hostel.  I shall begin at the beginning, if you would like to follow me on my recounting of this journey.

We woke up at four-thirty in the morning on Saturday in order to head to the bus stop outside le Pavillon Desjardins (kind of like the student union of the university) by five-forty-five.  We caught what I like to call the accordion bus to la Gare du Palais and waited for approximately an hour before boarding an Orléans Express bus (which is similar to Greyhound).  After a quick stop in Ste-Foy to pick up more passengers, we were off.

The three-hour drive wasn't too bad.  Lauren passed out before we hit le Pont du Québec, but since I can't sleep on buses, cars, planes, or anything, I just listened to my iPod.  I woke Lauren when Montréal's skyscrapers came into view in the distance, and we soon arrived at the bus station on rue Berri.  It was really cool to see so much between Québec City and Montréal; 'tis one of the reasons why I love road trips so much more than flying.

Luckily the hostel I picked (almost at random) was very close to both the bus station and the place where I would have my "Coaching en chant" with Gabrielle Destroismaisons.  Go me.  Because we arrived so early (ten-thirty), we couldn't check into the hostel, but they had a locked room for us to keep our luggage in 'til four o'clock, our anticipated check-in time.

Close by was a small McDonald's where we had a quick lunch (I had "McCroquettes," of course) before setting off to find the building where the Coachings would take place.  We wandered around rue Amherst but were unable to find the place.  It was extremely stressful, especially as time grew short.  There was a guy standing outside the building (by which time we had found the correct place but couldn't get into since it was locked) whom Lauren was brave enough to ask if we were in the right location, and he said "yes."  So we waited outside for a while until none other than Gabrielle Destroismaisons pulled into the parking lot.

Let me just start by saying this: Gabrielle is absolutely gorgeous.  She came over to Lauren and me, and we shook hands and introduced ourselves (as if Lauren and I needed introductions from her).  I explained that Lauren had just walked with me to help me find the place, but Gabrielle immediately said, "You can come in if you want."  Naturally, Lauren (and I) was overjoyed.

Gabrielle unlocked the door and led Lauren, Martin (the totally awesome dude with the guitar) up to a small room on the second floor.  We all talked for a bit until Catherine (Gabrielle's other "student") showed up with her mom. We started with some vocal warm-ups with Gabrielle showing us how to feel the sound in our noses and faces (which tickles) and how to project by "sending" our voices to a certain focal point.  (I sent mine to California.)

Something fun to note: Gabrielle seemed to think it was totally awesome that I came from the U.S. and she said that she loved being able to practice her English with people, but knew that I'm in Québec to speak French, so she said I should do that.  She spoke French with the others, but did a mixture with me, which I appreciated.  She's actually the first person outside the FLE program who made an effort to help me speak French.

After we were all warmed up and rrrready to go, Catherine sang her first song.  She sings so beautifully, especially having had problems with her voice her whole life.  Martin went next, playing his guitar and singing a song he had written.  It was awesome.  If he makes an album, I want it.  I was last, singing Do What You Have to Do by Sarah McLachlan.  It was actually the first time that I had ever sung solo into a microphone for other people.  My main problem was not letting myself relax.  Having sung mostly in a concert choir, where we stood straight and stoically, it's hard for me to really let loose, smile, and move around.  I sang it two more times during the session and apparently got better each time, but it was hard.

My absolute favorite part was about halfway through.  We wanted to sing all together, but naturally it was a bit hard to find a song we all knew.  They knew that Lauren and I love Bruno Pelletier, so we decided to sing Aime, which everyone knew.  The  three "students" and Gabrielle sat together while Lauren and Catherine's mom filmed.  It was so fun.  At the end no one knew the words, so I did the big finish.  It was awesome.

Even though we finished late, it ended far too soon.  When it was over, we all said goodbye and Lauren and I went to check into our hostel.  After that we walked down the rue Ste-Catherine, through le Festival Juste Pour Rire, to rue Drommond to eat at m:brgr, a gourmet burger joint where you can "build" your own burger.  It was magically delicious.

Our night at the hostel was . . . interesting.  We were in a dorm with fourteen other guys and gals, and people talked all damn night.  Since we had to get up early and we were exhausted, we went to bed at eleven.  Naturally we didn't expect people to be quiet or anything that early, and it wasn't a problem for a little while.  Except I woke up at one and then three because people would not. shut. up.  It was maddening.  Lauren was lucky and slept the whole night.

I was also unfortunate enough to wake up to a guy . . . having fun . . . in the bunk next to me. Lovely. (If you'd like to read that inappropriate sentence, highlight it. If you're not comfortable with inappropriateness, don't.)

After a small breakfast at McDonald's (don't judge me; it's fast and affordable) we walked down rue Ste-Catherine and then rue St-Urbain to the Notre-Dame basilica. It didn't open to the public until twelve-thirty, so Lauren and I hung out outside and took pictures. I left at twelve o'clock to meet my friend François while Lauren stayed there. While I waited for him to arrive, I was approached by a guy asking me to sell him a cigarette, who proceeded to ask me why I was sitting there, why I was alone, who I was waiting for, and my name, at which point I told him to leave me alone. Ew.

When François arrived, we spent a lot of time just walking around Montréal and talking. It was nice. We had lunch in Chinatown and then walked around some more. At one point we went into the Grande-Bibliothèque, rode the elevator up and down, and then left. It was awesome. We met up with Lauren around four o'clock and hung out before heading to the bus station about an hour later. We said goodbye to François (sniff, sniff!) and Lauren and I got on the bus for Québec (and Ste-Foy) at six o'clock. When we got back, at around ten, we went to a nearby Chez Ashton for a late dinner of poutine before taking a bus back to the university.

All in all, it was a great weekend. Unfortunately I must now return to the real world of studying. Sigh.

POUTIIIINE!!!

Goodness.  What on earth can be said about the past week-and-a-half that I have been in what is quite possibly the most beautiful place ever?  A whole lot, that’s for sure.  Let’s break it down!

Lauren and her parents picked me up from my grandparents’ in Michigan on the morning of the third of July.  We drove for a while before stopping in Port Huron in northern Michigan at this really cool restaurant.  We sat in the atrium of the restaurant in movie theatre-style chairs with silent films playing off to the side.  ‘Twas quite neat.  The wait at the border was a bit long, but we finally got through and entered Canada around what was probably about one or two o’clock.  We drove through Ontario, often noting the vast number of Petro-Canada stations and Tim Hortons coffee joints.  In London, Ontario we exchanged some American money for Canadian and had some fun figuring out which coins were loonies and which were toonies and admiring the twenty-dollar bills.  We finally stopped for the night in Kingston, Ontario.

The next morning, we headed out and finally crossed the border into Québec at around noon.  It was extremely exciting.  The excitement was slightly marred, however, by my attempt to order a smoothie at the Tim Hortons right on the other side of the border.  The woman from whom Lauren and David was very polite and accommodating when it came to their unsure French, but when I ordered from someone else and messed up one word, she immediately switched to English.  I persevered, however, and spoke only in French.  It was rather disappointing, but I survived.  And later I came to realize that it wouldn’t be the only time it happened.

Going on the highway around Montréal, traffic was absolutely nuts.  It was even worse when we got into Québec City and tried to navigate through Vieux-Québec in an effort to find our hotel.  We finally made it and thanked God for the valet service so we didn’t have to try to park.  After getting settled into the hotel, a Marriott Courtyard right next to the Place d’Youville stage for le Festival d’Été, we decided to go to a snazzy restaurant right across from the stage called Chez L’Autre.  I had the most delicious roasted chicken au jus ever.  (Okay, it’s the only chicken au jus I’d ever had.)  Lauren and I spoke French to the waitress, and all was well.  After dinner, Lauren and I walked around the interior of the walls of Vieux-Québec and went nuts in Archambault.  And by “went nuts,” I just mean we were excited.  We didn’t go broke or anything.  I did, however, have to buy a CD of Bruno Pelletier’s since the only hardcopies of his CDs that I have are Concert de Noël, Bruno Pelletier et le GrosZorchestre, Microphonium, and Rendus-là.   And I need them all.  Eventually.  The only ones that Archambault seems to stock right now are Un monde à l’envers, Rendus-là, D’autres rives, and Sur scène.  So I bought D’autres rives since it has my favorite song in the entire world, Loin de chez moi.

The next day was the real day of tourism.  We visited the Château Frontenac, la basilique Notre-Dame, went down to the Basse-Ville, took a roundtrip ferry to Lévis just for the hell of it, and did all of that fun touristic stuff.  Lauren and I also got to see some street performers doing stuff like rolling around in a hoop and juggling fire.  Then we came back to our hotel and went to Chez L’Autre again for dinner.  I got the roasted chicken au jus again, at which point I realized that I’m allergic to something in it.  Joy.  A little after dinner we all walked a good way away from the wall to see a free performance of Cirque du Soleil’s Les chemins invisibles.  IT WAS AMAZING!!!   

The next day we drove in some direction that escapes me to see la basilique Ste-Anne and the Montmorency waterfall.  Once the afternoon hit, we headed west to Trois-Rivières to see the Torontonian jazz singer Emilie-Claire Barlow in Le Festivoix.  I’m not a fan of jazz, but it was a great show.  She’s hilarious, and her use of franglais was awesome.  It was particularly funny when she would say something funny in English and the four of us would crack up, but no one else would get it.

On Sunday, we headed to Université Laval to move in to our dorm and start the whole study abroad thing.  When we went into the residence services building, the woman assumed we were with a group called Explore.  Neither of us contradicted her because we didn’t realize there was more than one French immersion group and we just assumed that our program was called that and we didn’t know it.  Oops.  We were placed into our dorms, which are directly across the hall from one another, and said goodbye to Lauren’s parents.  After that, Lauren and I had a few hours until a “tour” that was being given, so we walked down the street to check out the huge Archambault store in the mall and to eat at Casey’s a bar/grill right next to it.  The “tour” was nothing more than walking around our dorm building, which wasn’t very helpful.

The next morning was the first day of classes.  Lauren and I arrived at the language building at 8h30 to receive our schedules and the levels of French into which we had been placed.  It was at this point that we learned that we weren’t in Explore, that that was a program for Canadians and was practically free.  Oops.  We went one more floor up to find our correct group, which we did, and got in line for our schedules and placement.  It was then that I realized that I had forgotten my passport in my dorm, which needed to be photocopied before I could receive my schedule.  So I walked the ten minutes back to the dorm and the ten minutes back to get it photocopied, which took a while.  Finally, I learned that I was in the highest placement, “supérieur” or “superior.”  Sweet!

After lunch, Lauren and I just hung out for a bit and I talked to my mom and sister on Skype.  We went to the University Pub (yes, there is one) to hang out with a bunch of people in our group and the “animateurs” who are very similar to Truman’s student advisors.  It was lots and lots of fun.  There were games and limbo and music, and it was a blast.

One thing that’s interesting about this program is that they really mean it when they say they want you to speak French all the time.  Like seriously.  I am currently wearing a yellow wristband that tells people I’m an advanced French speaker, so they can come up to me and say whatever they want and I should be able to understand.  Beginning students were blue wristbands, which means that you need to keep sentences simple and you’re able to use franglais.  Red wristbands are for intermediate students.  I’m scared of my yellow bracelet.  Also, they give out different colored cards at random.  They give out green ones if they hear you speaking French and red ones if they hear you speaking some other language.  If you’re seen not wearing your bracelet, you get a yellow card, at which point you have to go find an animateur and explain why you weren’t wearing it.  Or something like that.  If you don’t do this, it becomes a red card.  Apparently there are consequences for too many red cards and rewards for lots of green cards.

Today was the first “real” day of classes for the advanced and superior levels.  We received our schedules, which include our optional course.  I chose Le Québec et sa culture, which should be EXCITING.  At some point we’re going to learn about swearwords in Québec.  My other two cours are advanced grammar and oral expression.  So I’ll get a total of six credits.  I don’t know if they’ll transfer to replace a requirement at Truman, but I’m just happy for the electives and the experience.

For TL;DR: Québec is awesome.  I love it.  I find French already coming more easily to me when I speak it, and Lauren and I speak it almost all the time to each other.  It’s quite awesome.

EE-step, not EH-step, not Eh-STEP

Ladies and gentlemen of the germy, I am in Michigan.  It's pretty surreal.  I haven't been here since I was twelve years old in very late 2003 and very early 2004.  A few years after my parents divorced, my sister Emily and I flew from Oakland, California to Michigan to spend the week after Christmas with the whole Estep clan for the first time since we were very little (my father was living back here with my grandparents at the time).  A lot has changed since then.  The digits in my age have reversed; instead of being 12, I am 21.  New family members have been born, people have married, and the Estep family continues to grow.

 

This week, for the first time in many years, all of us will be together to celebrate my grandparents' fiftieth wedding anniversary.  I flew from St. Louis to Detroit yesterday, Emily flies from Louisville to Detroit tomorrow, and my father, his wife, and their kids will drive up from Georgia on Wednesday and get here on Thursday.  When I say everyone, I mean everyone.  Last time we were all together, there were seven grandchildren and one great-grandson.  Now there are twelve grandchildren, three grandchildren-in-law (is that a real term?), and five great-grandchildren.  My father has since remarried and his brought his wife's four kids into our great big, happy family and they have an adorable little girl together, my baby sister.  It's not only an anniversary party, as my grandmother has put it, but a gigantic family reunion.  I haven't seen my father, step-mother, and siblings in about five years, since I was sixteen.  I haven't seen my oldest sister and brother in even longer, since I was last up here.  I haven't seen Emily, whom I grew up with, in about six months.  Words cannot express how excited I am for all of this to happen.  (And though I say the Estep family continues to grow, don't expect me to contribute to the number of great-grandkids any time soon.)

 

I'll be here for two weeks, and then it's straight up north with Lauren, Deb, and David.  We'll spend a few touristy days in Québec City before Lauren and I move into our respective dorms, at which point our study abroad experience will begin.  But you all already know about that.  There's a lot in store for this summer besides this big family bonanza: vocal coaching with one of my favorite singers, seeing Bruno Pelletier in concert after three years. . . .  Oh, yeah, and studying.  That, too.  That's kind of the whole point of going up to Québec in the first place, but we don't worry about that.  (Although I am terrified that I'll make a fool of myself while trying to speak French.)

 

While packing, I actually accomplished quite the feat in that I only forgot one thing, albeit an important thing: my laptop charger.  And, of course, it took a dead battery in my laptop for me to search for the adapter and realize that it wasn't with me.  I'm currently using my grandma's, but I ordered another charger for fairly cheap, so that should arrive soon.

 

Now I'm going to go write.  Noodles.

A veritable whirlwind

Just as the title suggests, the past few days have been a veritable whirlwind.  Many, many things have been good, even amazing, but not everything.   Lauren and I will be leaving our comfy room at BNB for a smaller one in Dobson.  I shall resign myself to communal bathrooms and try not to let it kill me.  I went to Hannibal today to spend the day with Kat since it'll be the last time I get to see her until I get back from Québec.  I was sad to leave.  Sigh.  This whole "being apart" thing isn't fun.

Oooh, what else?  Let's see . . . oh, yeah.  I get to sing and be coached by one of my favorite singers, Gabrielle Destroismaisons.  It's kind of a long story.  She's been offering four vocal coaching sessions for about $350, which is quite reasonable.  The problem is, I'm a broke college student and can't afford that.  Not only that, but I don't have the means to go to Montréal for weeks in a row.  It's just not possible.  So I was pretty bummed.  Then I received an email from Gabrielle herself (yes, I'm just that cool) saying that, after multiple requests, she was opening up a single group session for $85 on 27 July.  MUCH more doable!  Though I would prefer a one-on-one session, beggars can't be choosers, as my mom likes to say.  I'm just happy and grateful for the opportunity to sing and be coached by her, period.  Lauren and I will probably spend the night and the next day in Montréal, as well, before heading back to Québec City.  While I'm in Montréal, since it might be one of the only times I'll get to go there, I'll also be meeting up with a friend of mine, François, for the first time.  We met online via NaNoWriMo because he saw that I liked a lot of Québécois musicians and he was surprised.  He's cool.  I'm excited.  Woo!

Since Lauren and I are being driven to Québec by her wonderful parents, we're going to have a few days of "tourism time" before we move into our dorms and start classes.  One of things we'll be doing is going to Trois-Rivières to see Emilie-Claire Barlow at Le Festivoix.  She's a lovely jazz singer about whom I only know because she sang with Bruno Pelletier once upon a time.  Lauren and her parents looooove her and they're beyond excited.  I'm happy, too, even though I'm not overly fond of jazz.  I don't mind her jazz. :)

Speaking of concerts, Lauren and I had some pretty damn good news today.  Well.  Apparently, there's been an event up on Bruno Pelletier's Facebook fanpage since late May about a performance in Lévis (a city just across the river from Québec City), and Lauren and I had no idea.  We've been waiting on tenterhooks to see if Bruno would be performing somewhere close by while we're up there.  And he his!  He'll be performing on the evening of our second-to-last day of classes, the day after his birthday, on 8 August.  Technically, it's Bruno Pelletier et le GrosZorchestre, his jazz group, so he will presumably be accompanied by Julie Lamontagne, Richard Irwin, and Dave Watts.  Again, I'm not fond of jazz, but this is Bruno Pelletier.  I don't need any other pretense to see a jazz show.  And Lauren is beyond ecstatic.  She has wanted to see Bruno for years and years, and I was a bum and saw and met him first even though she introduced me to him.  I was a little disappointed that it's not one of his typical shows where he performs his regular stuff, but then I realized: I had my turn.  I was fortunate enough to go to Québec to see Bruno twice in October of 2009 for is Microphonium tour when I was 18.  Not to mention the fact that I got to meet him after both shows.  Bruno's stuff with the GrosZorchestre is very close to Lauren's heart.  She loves jazz, and it was the first stuff of his she found, so this is perfect for her.  I'm so happy that this, of all shows, is her first experience with Bruno.  She has been over the moon with joy about the whole thing.

It happened like this.  The lovely Ekaterina said there was going to be a show in Lévis when we were talking on Facebook.  Apparently this is already common knowledge.  I checked out the website and it turns out it's free, too.  It's a show in the street, literally.  (So we should probably bring some chairs.)  Obviously, no decision needed to be made.  We were going from the moment Ekaterina said it was free.  Unfortunately, Lauren had already left for class.  It was about an hour before I was to leave for Hannibal.  Nonetheless, I texted her and told her to call me asap since I had reeeeally good news.  We got a hold of each other while I was on the road and she was walking back from class, and I told her.  She cried and was hysterically happy, and I wish I could have been there to see her.  She's been in a state of disbelief all day.  I know exactly how she feels.  It's how felt when Sarah invited me to come with her three-and-a-half years ago.  (Something for which I am still and will always be immeasurably grateful).

This all sounds a little one-sided.  I am very excited, too.  I think part of my problem is that, not only has it not kicked in yet, but I'm worried that something will conflict with me going.  Not Lauren; she's going.  But the program in which we're participating at l'Université Laval has us doing, not only an actual French class, but a sort of workshop of our choice.  We submitted our top three choices and will be "sorted" upon arrival. My first choice was a singing workshop in which we would learn, sing, and perform francophone, especially Québécois songs.  The only thing is that I'm paranoid that that final performance will conveniently fall on 8 August since it's the day before the last day.  I have no way of knowing if it will or if I'll even get into the workshop, but the unknown is driving me crazy.  Maybe that's what's preventing me from screaming and jumping up and down and running in circles like I should be.  Hopefully that'll change soon.

Don't get me wrong: I am very excited to see Bruno again.  Immeasurably excited.  I'm just not good at showing it right now.  It's weird.

Anyway.  I leave for Michigan in twelve days.  I'm very excited for that, too.  I'm going to celebrate my grandparents' fiftieth anniversary with them.  I'll get to see my two oldest siblings, Dawn and David, for the first time in nine years, my grandparents for the first time in about two years, and my father, step-mother, step-siblings, and younger sister for the first time in about five.  Pretty crazy.  I'm nervous.  But hey, it's family.