The title comes from a line from the song Dégénérations by Mes Aïeux, and means "cold in winter." Just so y'all know.
So. I'm here! I'm writing this from the lobby of the hostel I'll be staying at for the next five nights! I must say, I am completely and utterly exhausted, but I feel the need to chronicle everything that happens, so... here goes.
We left Hannibal at a quarter to seven this morning, before the sun had even risen. I must say, it was rather nice to be able to watch the sun rise as we drove to St. Louis. As someone who quite enjoys sleeping in, I don't get to see sunrises very often. We got to the airport about an hour-and-a-half before my flight left, and it was pretty damn quick getting my boarding pass. I can't deny that I was pretty nervous about flying internationally, especially since my last international flight was such a fiasco. But hey! It went pretty smoothly, at least at first.
The flight was a little late going to my layover in Newark, but I made it in plenty of time, even though I had to take a shuttle bus to the other side of the airport. (Seriously, why does this always happen to me? Why are my flights always so far from each other??) My gate was C103 - that tells you just how big that airport is. I got there only to find out that my flight to Montréal had been delayed about a half-hour, then a whole hour. Then they switched the gate, just for kicks and giggles. Then I lost my boarding pass and had to get another one printed. For a long time the screen said the flight was due to depart at 3:45, until 3:30 arrived and they said it would be 3:55. Originally, I was supposed to get into Montréal at 4:30. The plane to said city took off at 4:20, and I finally got in at about... uhh... 6:00-ish.
The walk through the Montréal airport to Customs is long. It just kept going, and going, and going. When I finally arrived, I was surprised by the immensity of the place, and even more surprised by the fact that it was virtually empty. It was strange to disembark from the plane and suddenly to be surrounded by French, but I loved it. Once I dug my passport, boarding pass, and customs declaration from my purse, I made my way up to the first available customs officer and greeted him with a confident "Bonsoir."
The very first conversation I had last summer when we crossed the border into Québec was marred by the fact that the cashier refused to speak to me in French. This time, I spoke to the customs officer entirely in French. He asked where I was from, why I was in Québec and for how long, where I was staying, and if I hoped to study here eventually. Then it was time to follow painfully vague signs to find where the bus shuttles were located.
I finally found the Bureau d'Échange (Currency Exchange) on that floor, but it was, of course, closed. So I bought a day-long ticket for the bus and, miraculously, got there just as the correct bus arrived. It was about a 45-minute drive from the airport to the station, with snow flurries, traffic, three Tim Hortons, and one Starbucks. When I got off, I thought I was lost at first and that I had gotten off at the wrong street, but then suddenly I realized that I was, in fact, fine, and knew exactly where I was. So I made my way down rue Ste. Catherine, marveling at how much everything had changed since last year.
After hanging out at the hostel for a bit, I walked around a bit, looking for somewhere to eat. I am ashamed to admit that I picked McDonald's since it was right there and it was getting late and I was starving. I'd always been curious about what their poutine tasted like, so I ordered that and a small Sprite. I got that and a small thing of fries. Now, the word for fries in French is "frites," and I suppose you could mix the two up, except I didn't French-ify the word Sprite. I said it perfectly Englishly. Oh, well. The poutine tasted funny. I make better poutine than that. Also, that was the first place someone spoke English to me, despite me speaking French the whole time, so humph.
Now I am sitting at the hostel. Tomorrow is a big day, what with going to the recording of UADF and then meeting my friend François. I also need to exchange my money. WOO. Exciting stuff.
No comments:
Post a Comment