But I don't wanna...

The first entry of the year (2015, in case you're a little behind) brings my reluctance to begin the new semester, which happens tomorrow.  Believe me when I say that I really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really don't want to.  I'm not really looking forward to any of my classes, or work, or any of that stuff which I'm forced to do.  But, unfortunately, I must.  The first Wake-Up Call happens tonight at seven when I have to go onto campus to meet with my boss and the other Language Lab proctors to schedule our hours.  Sigh.

Not much has happened so far in this year of 2015 in which I shall (hopefully) graduate and (hopefully) start grad school or move to France.  Dear God, how trippy is this, that at the end of the year I'll hopefully be in Québec or in France?   First I need to graduate.  But before I do that, I need to actually survive this semester.  With only twelve credits, it shouldn't be too bad, but that doesn't make me any more enthusiastic.

I've also found myself being more nostalgic as of late, thinking a lot about my trip up to Québec and worrying if I'll ever get to go again.  Ideally I'll be living in Montréal this time next year, but who can say what'll happen?  I've also had fun looking at the pictures I've taken with Bruno Pelletier and comparing them, seeing how much I've changed over the years.  Granted, there are four-and-a-half years in between the first two pictures and less than a year-and-a-half in between the second and the third, but that's okay.  The most recent one is my favorite.  Though I prefer my hair in the second one.

Ain't we cute?  The first was taken on October 16, 2009 at age 18 in Terrebonne, the second on August 8, 2013 at age 21 in Lévis, and the third on November 27, 2014 at age 23 in Drummondville.  Pretty crazy, methinks.  Maybe eventually I'll have so many pictures of the two of us that I can print them all out and use them as wallpaper.  Though maybe eventually Bruno will get sick of me and file a restraining order - I wouldn't blame him.

So I've bought all but one of my textbooks.  I do believe this is my lowest number of them so far, with only seven total - one for Chemistry, two for JINS, one for Health, and three for French.  The price was probably also the lowest, as well.  What's obnoxious is that the Health book is brand new (of course) and I can either buy a brand new copy, loose-leaf, at the bookstore for $130 or I can rent a digital copy for $70.  Both prices are ridiculous, as are the prices for textbooks in general.  I'll try and find a cheaper copy of the health book, but I sincerely doubt it.

Sigh.  Here's to the new semester.  I'd say to the whole year, but I can't really see past May at the moment.

Highlights of 2014

Sad Ashlee is sad.  Tomorrow my bestest friend Lauren shall commence a new journey in life as she moves to Wisconsin to work as a graphic designer.  Which means being eight hours from me and likely not seeing her until March.  Don’t get me wrong—I’m happy for her, of course!  But yeah.  Sad.

Anyway.

The time has come for the annual “what the hell happened this year?” post.  For the past three years I’ve made an entry at the end of December “commemorating” all that has happened in the past year, whether good or bad (though I tend to focus more on the good stuff.)  The first year I had this blog, 2011, was mainly about starting at Truman and the steps I took to get there.  The next year was filled with stuff like the Megadeth and Evanescence concerts, seeing The Lion King in St. Louis, turning twenty-one, getting an apartment for the first time, etc.  2013 was all about the summer I spent in Québec—didn’t really talk about much else.

So now we have arrived at the end of 2014.  What’s changed since this time last year?  Well, I’m twenty-three now, a senior in college, and no longer an English major, for starters.  That’s about all that’s really “different” about me.  I just got older and continued with life.  But, as usual, here are some highlights, good and not-so-good.

• Kat got her own apartment last winter, which meant many chances to escape the horrors of campus!

• I began working as a “Reading Room Assistant” in the Special Collections and Archives section of the library.  At the time I was considering a career in library science.  It was definitely an experience, which only lasted a semester.

• I started watching Sherlock and not hating Benedict Cumberbatch, which both Kathy and Lauren appreciated.

• I became Vice President for the National French Honor Society, Pi Delta Phi.  Again, this only lasted a semester, but it was a good experience.  I stepped down at the end of Fall semester so I could focus more on schoolwork in the spring.

• Had a boyfriend for a few months.  That was fun!  (I’m not being sarcastic—it was awesome while it lasted and I’m not bitter about anything that happened.)

• Reached the five-year mark of studying French.  Aww yiss.

• I went to Chicago with the two greatest people on the planet!

• I was a preceptor at JBA, which was an amazing experience and one I’m hoping to repeat this coming summer.

•  I spent the latter part of said summer in Kentucky with my family, probably the last time I was able to do so.

• I created the website for US Bruno Fans, which was officially named Bruno Pelletier’s official American fan club.

• I saw Halestorm in concert!!

• I turned twenty-three.  Pretty awesome.

• Let’s see… what else?  Oh, yeah.  I spent a week in Montréal to look at grad schools!

• I got to see and spend time with my friend, François.

• I attend the filming of an episode of Un air de famille!

• I got to return to Québec City for a day!

• I got to attend Bruno Pelletier’s concert on Thanksgiving and meet him afterwards!!

How do you top that, really?  Honestly, I was having so much trouble remembering what happened during the year other than going to Québec that I had to look back at old blog posts.  Oops.  I can’t believe it’s been a month since I was there, but it has.  I miss it terribly, but I’m desperately hoping that I’ll be back there as soon as August or September.  God, I hope so.

What awaits me in 2015?  Graduation from Truman!  Maybe grad school, maybe teaching in France, maybe something else entirely.  I don’t know.  But here’s hoping it’s good!

Un air, un air... Un air de famiiiiille

Well, we all knew it had to end sometime, right?  And it did, most unfortunately, as I’m sure you know if you’ve been watching my more-frequent-than-usual status updates on Facebook.  I am now sitting in my bedroom in the apartment I share with Kat in Kirksville—we’ve been back since late Saturday afternoon after spending the night at her place in Hannibal once she and her mom picked me up from the airport.  (That was a very long sentence.)  But more on that later—now that Un air de famille has aired, I can finally talk about what happened on Sunday when I attended the taping of the episode . . . and elongate my memories of Québec just a little bit more.

As y’all know, Sunday the 23rd was my first full day in Montréal, which I soon began to call Wonderland for reasons I shall explain in a bit.  I didn’t need to be at Radio-Canada (which was conveniently down about five minutes away by foot from my hostel) until around noon, so I had time to explore the city a tiny bit.  Also, le Bureau de Change had been closed at the airport for some weird reason when I arrived at dear ol’ Pierre-Elliot Trudeau, so I still had no Canadian money other than what Lauren and I had retained from our séjour in Québec last year, which was about $25.  It was enough to get me a pass for the 747 shuttle to the Berri-UQÀM station, but not much else.

My favorite clerk-person at M Montréal, Thibault, told me that I could find a Bureau de Change in the bus station, but at the time I had forgotten that there were two—there was the metro station underground and the local buses on the outside and then the gare d’autocars down the street (or through an underground tunnel), which is where I would later take a bus to Québec City and then Drummondville.  He told me that the bureau was in the gare d’autocars, but I guess I didn’t quite understand, so at around 9 or 10 that morning I headed to the métro station.

Since it was a Sunday morning, the station before the ticketing booth swipey things was virtually empty except for the few people who mill around asking people for spare change.  I must have looked confused, because a man approached me and asked if I was looking for the metro.  I guess my stammered response that I was looking for the Bureau de Change was too I-don’t-speak-French-well-ish, because he immediately began speaking English.  He gave me directions to get to the gare d’autocars in the underground way, and then said he would take me there.  I didn’t have much choice, since he already began walking, so I followed him, albeit nervously and afraid I would get kidnapped.

On the way, he asked why I was in Montréal and where I was from.  He seemed pretty surprised when I said Missouri, and said something like, “Oh, Missouri?  From St. Louis?” I said something like “Kind of,” since I didn’t want to get into explaining what exactly Kirksville is.  To my surprise, he replied with, “Well, at least you’re not from Hannibal!”  This amused/surprised me, as my two best friends are from Hannibal and I myself stay there with them often.  So, just to see what he’d say, I said, “Actually, I am from Hannibal.”  That’s when he got really surprised.  “Really,” he said.  “From Hannibal.  Wow.  Okay!”  I have no idea why a) he knew about Hannibal at all or b) why he thought it was so bad to live there.  But it was amusing.

The gare d’autocars was just a hop, skip, and a jump over the river and through the woods, and the man took me right to the Bureau de Change guichet.  He started talking to someone he knew, and, eventually a security guard.  I overheard a bit of their conversation, and it sounded like the guard was asking why the man was with me, which is a bit sad, since I clearly hadn’t been kidnapped and the guy had been helping me.  He had said he needed money for subway fare,  I think, so I asked him what he needed, and he said he only needed a toonie, which is a $2 coin.  I gave it to him, thanked him profusely for his help, and said goodbye.  It was an entirely nerve-wracking experience, but the guy had been truly kind in helping me, and I wish I could have given him more.

So anyway.  After that I went to the gigantic Archambault right across the street from the station, marveling at how absolutely huge it is, with multiple levels, each one dedicated to different items.  In the “New Releases” section, I saw Bruno’s album, Musique et Cinéma, which made me happy, as obviously I’m not going to see it anywhere else.  I also saw the Jacques Brel tribute album he appears on (of which Lauren also recently won a signed copy from most of the people appearing on the album).  Much to my delight, the new Marie-Mai concert DVD was also there, which I immediately snatched up because she’s wonderful.  I wandered around, grabbed the new Daniel Boucher CD and the Annie Villeneuve CD I’ve been wanting for a while, and explored, drooling over an $85 Notre-Dame de Paris music book containing the sheet music for every single song.  Obviously I couldn’t justify in getting it.  (Plus, it probably wouldn’t have fit in my luggage.)

After a bit more walking around, plus a smoothie at Presse Café, I went back to the hostel to get ready.  I chatted with Heather a bit via IM about my immense worries, despite the fact that deep down I knew everything would be okay.  But hey, I would be seeing Bruno for the first time in a year-and-a-half—of course I was nervous!  I left at 11:40 and headed left down rue St. André, where the hostel is, and then left on boulevard René-Lévesque.   I could see the Radio-Canada building immediately, so it’s not like I could get lost (for once).  Once I arrived, I headed down a long, tarp-covered tunnel that I imagine they use to protect the entrance from snow, and walked into the brilliantly scarlet lobby.  I was immediately approached by a young woman in a red scarf, who said, “You’re here for Un air de famille?”  I oui’d and after making sure I was there alone and not waiting for a group she told me that first I needed to sign a form and then get in line.  I signed said form but then got a bit confused, as the last part of her instructions were a bit muddled, so I went back to make sure what I needed to do and then proceeded to get in line.

After a few minutes, the line of people was led down a long hallway to a table where people were taking names.  I told her my name (in the French way—AshlLAY aySTEP), and she gave me a red raffle ticket, a picture of the UADF logo, and some other paper, and sent me on my way.  However, at this point I was confused, as the people I’d been falling had disappeared.  I went to the place where you can hang your coat, and did so, and asked the guy where UADF was, and he just replied “Radio-Canada,” which was extremely helpful.  Finally I found another employee in a red scarf, and she directed me to a large area with red cords snaking around against the wall to form a line.

I wasn’t too far from the front of the line, which was cool.  The line slowly began filling up, and mostly I just people-watched.  A lot of people had brought kids, a lot of people were alone, which made me feel a bit better about being alone myself.  After a while, around 12:30, an employee came and announced to everyone that we would be going into the studio soon.  She said that they would have to frisk all of us when we entered and stamp the inside of our wrists (not the outside, the inside.  The inside.  Got it?  She was going to stamp the inside.  I think she made her point quite vividly).  After another ten minutes or so, she came back and said, “Everyone from here,” cutting the line off literally right behind me, “come with me.”  So I got to be in the first group!  We headed back down the hallway and to the studio doors, down a flight of stairs, until, finally, there it was!

It was a bit surreal seeing the set in person when I’d seen it on my computer screen every week for the past however many weeks.  And there were so many lights.  There was no ceiling—it was just lights upon lights hanging down like spiders on their webs.  So many cameras and people.  I saw immediately that the people who were standing practically on the stage and who would be on camera most of the time were all part of groups supporting the families, rather than just the general public, so I would be sitting closer to the back.  There was a woman directing everyone to seats and asking how many people were in each group so she could keep them together.  I was standing next to the woman who had been in front of me in line, and the employee thought we were together, so kept saying, “Deux?” to us, and finally after our repeated, “Non, une,” she was like, “Oh.  Well, you can sit together anyway, right?”  Which was, of course, fine.  So we sat down and were soon joined by two parents and their two daughters in our row of six seats.

A little while later, the director of the émission came out and had a bunch of fun telling us the hand signals he would be making to get us to applaud, sit down, stand up, all that fun stuff.  There was one little girl in the front he felt wasn’t happy, so he called her onto the stage and got her to get us all to applaud, and ended up giving her and her little sister a Garfield book.  The two girls’ mother was eventually interviewed on camera for the portion when they talk to the singing families’ family members, but it didn’t go to well, for some reason, which I noticed at the time, and when I watched the episode last night, they cut the whole thing out entirely, which is rare.

Eventually, one of the women who works with the coaches during the coaching process (her first name is Édith . . . I cannot for the life of me remember her surname) along with the choreographer came out to teach the audience the corny-yet-sweet dance moves and the theme song, which we would have to do along with everyone else.  I think we all rocked.

As we got closer to the time of the recording, all of a sudden the host of the show, Patrice L’Ecuyer, came out and greeted the audience.  That was pretty weird, too, having seen him on the show and now suddenly in person.  He greeted everyone and thanked us all for being there, and also gave a basic breakdown of what would happen, saying that it all happened in chronological order as it would once it aired on TV.  Then, all of a sudden, it was time to start.  It was impossible to hear Patrice as he spoke and we were all clapping and cheering, but suddenly the coaches were coming out on stage—first Jean-François Breau, then Bruno, and then Johanne Blouin!

It took me a moment to register that it really was Bruno in front of me.  Like, holy crap, after a year-and-a-half, it really was him.  Even though he was a good distance away and probably had no idea I was there, it was awesome.  I was slightly surprised by the fact that, even when the cameras weren’t rolling, he and the two other coaches stayed on set the whole time—I figured they’d go backstage when they had a chance, but they stayed there, even when there were long stretches when they didn’t have to do anything.  At some point, the director introduced the coaches to the audience, and Bruno was in the middle of drinking, so he just kind of waved his water bottle in response to the applause—it was amusing.  Also during the breaks, the director held raffles for different audience members to win stuff, and he interacted with people, and kept us pretty entertained.  All in all, it was a pretty fun day.

Because they had to get ready for the next taping that evening, they had us all leave pretty quickly.  After that, it was time to meet my friend, François!  It took us a while to actually find each other, but when we did, we ended up hanging out until about eleven o’clock that evening.  He’s like the best person ever—not only did we walk all over Montréal looking for bagels at ten o’clock at night, but he also got me poutine gravy.  (Granted, he had promised a year-and-a-half ago to mail it to me, but we won’t argue with the fine points.)  He doesn’t understand why I love Bruno so much, but hey, François is weird and he likes Miley Cyrus.  So there.

It really shouldn’t have taken me this long to post this.  Oh, well.

I poke you.

Well, here I am once again in the bus station. It's only 11:13 and my bus doesn't leave 'till 12:45, but I had to check out of the hostel at 11, so there wasn't much else to do. Besides, the gare d'autocars is much less creepy than the station de métro, so it's got that going for it. I was so happy to have the room at the hostel to myself last night, but much to my annoyance, three girls checked in at about 7 this morning, not caring that I was trying to sleep, talking and laughing, crinkling bags, turning on lights, running hair dryers... I wanted to punch them all. So I'm a bit grumpy for having gotten a small amount of sleep, but I'll try to survive. Why?  Because it's Bruno Day!

That's right, people: in about eight-and-a-half hours from now, little Ashlee is going to be seeing her favorite singer of all time perform after only one year, three months, and nineteen days. Last time I had to wait nearly five years. I truly can't believe how lucky I've been, to be able to come to Québec, to visit schools, to see friends, and just to exist here in this place I've come to love so much. And if I'd never discovered Bruno, none of this would ever have happened. I wouldn't even be studying French without him. I guess it's fitting that I'm seeing him on Thanksgiving, since I am so incredibly, immeasurably grateful for everything he and his music have brought to my life.

Later...

I'm here. Holy crap, guys, I'm here. I am currently sitting in the lobby of la Maison des arts in Drummondville. No one is here but me, but I'm also an hour early since I was afraid of getting here on time, even though I called a taxi. Speaking of which, the driver was very nice. He asked if I was from here, and when I said no, that I was from the U.S., he seemed really surprised, and was like, "Well, your French is very good!" Words cannot express how happy that made me, especially after being so self-conscious recently. He was very nice, and seemed quite amused by the fact that an American loved Bruno Pelletier so much.

7:18 - people are arriving. So far I'm the youngest. My mouth has gone strangely dry. I have also learned that photos are not allowed. Phooey.

7:21 - I feel. So. Young.

Later...

I am now sitting at the Montréal airport, about 45 minutes before my flight to Toronto.  Before I chronicle the events of this morning, I must finish the events of last night!!

So the wonderful Madeleine, my friend and Bruno's webmaster, arrived not long after I posted that last update.  It was my first time meeting her in person after a few years' correspondence by email, so it was really cool!  We talked, mostly about Bruno, while we waited for showtime to approach.  Once it did, we split up to our different doors, as she was sitting on the left side and mine was more towards the right, in the very front.  Upon sitting down, I was immediately amazed by how close I was.  Like, seriously, seriously close.  I wish I could have taken pictures.

At 8pm, the lights went out, illuminated only on the clapboard sitting on a director's chair in the center of the stage.  Then, just like that, Bruno and Guy were there!  Bruno clacked the clapboard and said, "Take One," and the show began with a piano solo from Guy, before Bruno continued with La maison sous les arbres.  I wish I could remember the exact order of the songs, but I don’t.  I know he songs outside of the new album, such as a medley of Over the Rainbow and What a Wonderful World, Coriace, J’ai posé des pierres, La manic, Le temps des cathédrales, Let It Be, The Color Purple, and New York State of Mind.  There might’ve been others, but my memory is like Swiss cheese as you all know.  He did do all of the songs from the new album, though, my favorite being Lovesong, which he sang as an encore.

One of the first few songs he did was La manic, and as y’all know, he has the audience sing with him at certain parts.  The beginning goes, “Si tu savais comme on s’ennuie à la Manic / Tu m’écrirais bien plus souvent à la Manicouagan,” and has the audience sing the last part three words.  The audience knows it’s coming, so people rarely have any difficulty, especially since everyone knows the song.  Then, at the end, he repeats the line, except the line “à la Manicouagan” goes up on the last syllable.  And though everyone knows it’s coming, people often have difficulty jumping so many notes.  So when he did it this time, I kid you not, every single person dropped out except for me and one other person sustaining that note, at which point Bruno said something along the lines of “Thanks to the two people who sang that.”  I about died, knowing he heard me.  He might not have known it was me, but it was still cool regardless.  The woman next to me seemed to think it was the coolest thing ever that Bruno heard me.  During the intermission when Mad came over to talk to me, I told her that he had been talking about me, and she was like, “Yeah, it was me, too.”  I do think we quite rock.

It went by so quickly.  I checked my watch once during the show just becaue I was afraid of it ending, and an hour had already passed when it only felt like fifteen minutes.  During the intermission, I went out to get a bottle of water, and while I was standing there, a blond woman walked by me to the bar.  I watched her for a moment, my thought process being something along the lines of, “That’s Johanne Blouin.  Is that Johanne?  That’s totally Johanne.  Should I say anything?  No, I’m too scared.”  Johanne Blouin, dear readers, is one of the coaches of Un air de famille and a good fan of Bruno’s.  Though I’d seen her last Sunday at the taping, it seemed to insane to see her there in Drummondville.  Later, when I mentioned it to Madeleine, she confirmed my suspicions and said that yes, it was Johanne.

The second act started off strong with La complainte à mon frère, one of my favorites, a short song that really packs a punch.  For some of the songs Bruno used the recording of the symphonic version, as well as Guy playing on the piano, and he did so for that song, and my God.  The power that man has.  I’ve been to four Bruno shows now—two in October of 2009, one in August of 2013, and now one in November of 2014, and I can honestly say this one was the best in terms of performance.  He and Guy absolutely blew me away.  Everything from the sound, to the props, to the lighting was perfect.

After the show, which ended far too soon, I was greeted with the music of Sarah McLachlan’s song, Fallen, which I love, so I singingly (yes, it’s a word) walked over to where Mad waited off to the side, and together we walked up to the lobby.  She had already told/assured me that Bruno does meet and take photos with fans afterwards.  Most people left, but there was already a small line forming in front of two tables.  She told me that she would wait with me, but that when Bruno came out, she would go off to the side and take pictures since she didn’t intend to take any photos with him and Guy or anything.  Not too long later, maybe 10 minutes max., we heard a woman squeal, at which point Mad pronounced, “He’s here.”  Sure enough, he and Guy rounded the corner a moment later.  Despite my desperate pleading for her to stay in case I fainted, Mad went off to the side, leaving me alone.  I caught her eye at some point and frantically mouthed, “I can’t breeeeathe,” to which she just laughed at me and took a picture.

A couple minutes later, we hear a woman singing, “Un air, un air, un air de famille,” which is the cheesy-yet-cute theme song of aforementioned show.  Johanne appeared in the lobby, grinning as she sang the song, and a bunch of us were like, “Woo!” because we obviously recognized her and thought she was the coolest person ever.  Which she totally is.  She said goodnight to Bruno and everyone and departed.

People took turns talking to Guy and Bruno separately.  The way the line turned out, I got to Guy first while Bruno was talking to someone else.  I managed to sputter, “Vous étiez incroyable,” for which Guy thanked me.  I handed him the booklet of the piano-voix version of Musique et cinéma which Mad had gotten signed by Bruno for a bunch of fans a while back, so I wanted to complete my collection.  Guy signed with an awesome treble cleft, staff, and notes, plus three x’s, which I thought was the coolest thing, and told him so.  I thanked him, and suddenly I was startled by—

“Ashlee!”

Bruno’s proclamation about made me fall over.  It wasn’t an “Ashlee!” of surprise, but more of an “Ashlee! You’ve tweeted me a million times over the past couple weeks saying you’d be here, and now you’re here!”  Seriously, I had honestly been afraid that he wouldn’t recognize and/or remember me, despite my tweets.  Lauren and Kat were certain that he would, but when do I ever listen to them?  Luckily I didn’t take any time to recover at all, and quickly replied with a “Bruno!” in the exact same tone, which he seemed to find amusing.

Obviously exact words are been fuzzy to me, but I sidled over to his table, and he asked me how I was and if I liked the show.  I replied that I was fabulous and that the show had been absolutely incredible.  He signed the picture I had brought that the two of us took together last summer and spelled my name right.

[Let me just take a break to say how big of a deal this is.  There are people I have known for years who cannot spell my name.  Professors, friends, even family members.  My biggest pet peeve is people spelling my name Ashley when I know they know how it’s actually spelled.  There are professors I’ve had for three years who spell my name incorrectly constantly, who reply to my e-mails and, despite the fact that I signed off with my full name, spell it incorrectly.  It feels like such a basic thing for someone to do, to make sure someone’s name is spelled correctly.  It makes me feel like I don’t matter when they’re in such a hurry that they write to me as Ashley when they have had me in very small class sizes repeatedly for three years.  So for Bruno, someone I have only met in person three times before, someone who meets so many people every night after his shows, to not only remember my name but remember that it’s spelled Ashlee meant the world to me.]

Now we continue.  The woman beside me had finished talking to Guy, but Bruno kept talking to me.  Talk about fuzzies.  I had thought it was over, but he kept me there by continuing our conversation.  He asked if I was vacationing in Québec, so I told him that I’d been there for a week for Thanksgiving but was leaving the next day after visiting universities, as I hoped to attend school there, and he mentioned that the weather is a lot colder there, to which I definitely agreed.  I apologized for speaking in English, saying that I should be speaking French, but he replied, “It’s okay, I need to practice my English.” So I said, “Oh.  Well, then I am here for you.”  He thanked me for coming to the show, said he was glad I enjoyed it, and then I stumbled back to Mad—literally stumbled; the woman next to her thought I was going to fall.

I gushed to Mad that he had spelled my name correctly, that he had remembered me, and was all around pretty squealy.  She just laughed at me, which I totally respect.  A little while later, Bruno finally noticed Mad, and was like, “You’re here!” and pointed at her.  Despite her being in the second row and her having been standing there the whole time he hadn’t seen her until that point.

A few minutes later, it was time for pictures.  Mad agreed to take a picture with us with my camera, so I gave it to her and showed her how it operated, and got in line.  What I found funny was that, as soon as Bruno realized Mad was there, he immediately clocked her into her webmaster duties and told people she could help take pictures if necessary, to which she generously obliged.  When it was almost my turn, Bruno was approached by people he clearly knew well, so he was distracted by them and talking to them, which was totally okay.  I knew he wouldn’t leave without making sure everyone got a picture, so I didn’t mind waiting and/or staring.  Then, when it was about to be my turn, a Korean fan around my age approached Guy and asked for a picture and an autograph while Bruno was still taking to the other people.  Then, when they left so other people could talk to Bruno, the aforementioned fan grabbed Bruno for the same thing—autographs and selfies.  Then, finally, it was my turn.

“You want a picture, Ashlee?” Bruno said, or something like it, to which I replied with a “Yes please!”   I even think he said (I think it was him who said it) “Get over here!” and put his arm around me.  Guy was talking to that same fan, so Mad took a picture of just the two of us first.  Then Mad and Bruno called Guy over, so I was sandwiched in between the two of them.  Mad lowered the camera and asked, “Did it work?” I paused and said, “. . . I don’t know.  You tell me,” and Guy said, “That’s supposed to be your job.”  So Mad took another photo (yay for three pictures) and then I thanked Bruno and Guy profusely before stepping away.

But wait!  It’s not over yet!  Madeleine and I hung around so Bruno could come over and talk to her.  Just as he was about to do so, he was approached by the Korean fan for another selfie.  It was cute—she was so incredibly smitten with and star struck by him (not saying I wasn’t), and Bruno clearly wasn’t used to it.  So he came over to Mad and me saying, “Oh, my God, it’s Bruno Pelletier!  I poked Bruno Pelletier!  I poke you!” which I found absolutely hilarious.  I actually reached over and poked him in the arm and said, “Oh, my God!  I poked Bruno Pelletier!”  Teehee.

Bruno said something extremely rapidly in French to Mad, and I have no idea what it was, so we’ll just moved on.  He looked from me to her and said something like, “You’re with Ashlee?  You two are here together?” Mad said she was driving me back to my hotel, so he said, “You’re driving her back to her hotel?  Where are you staying?”  I told him the Comfort Inn.   This exchange went something like this:

Me: “I took a bus in this morning from Montréal.”

Bruno: “Oh, okay.”

Me: “Just for you.”

Bruno: *laugh* “Well, thank you.”

Me: “You’re welcome.”

Bruno then laughed again—I made him laugh oh my gooood—and said he had to go.

Bruno: “I gotta go.” *pokes Mad* “I poke you.” *pokes me* “I poke you.”

I about died.  Bruno poked me, ladies and gentlemen.  We said goodnight, thanked him once more, and we were off.  While we were in the little area between the two main doors and Mad was putting her coat on, we watched Bruno head up a couple of stairs and then remerge a couple seconds later, look around, examine something on the wall, and then look towards the staff members.

Me: “Is Bruno lost?”

Mad: “I think so.”

Me: “Yeah, Bruno’s totally lost.”

A few seconds later, though, he found his way and disappeared.  Before the show, Madeleine had very, very graciously agreed to take me back to my hotel since it would be a forty-minute walk and I didn’t have a way of calling a taxi outside my hotel.  I could have ordered one ahead of time, but I’d had no idea what time we’d be done.  After pointing her in the wrong direction since my iPad confused me, we finally got on the right track toward rue Hains (which we both called rue Hein?).  When we got to the hotel, I thanked her profusely for everything she’d done for me and has done for me in the past, said I was glad to have been able to meet her, and said goodnight.

I’m finishing up this post from the Toronto airport.  But my God, what an incredible evening that was.

From Wonderland to Neverland

 I'm en route to Québec City! I am currently sitting on an Orléans Express bus; we just made a stop in Longueuil, and now it's off to Ste. Foy and then Québec! I set my alarm for 7 this morning... or at least I thought I did. I woke up at 7:30 to the sound of one of my roommates' alarms going off... Turns out I never actually turned on my own alarm. Oops. I got lucky, since the bus was set to leave at 9.

My lack of comprehension of simple un-American things, like kilometers and temperatures in Celsius is really glaring, especially now that I'm on the road. I just saw a sign that said Quéebec: 115, and I was like, "Damn! That's far!" Then I realized... kilometers are smaller than miles. So I whipped out my trusty iPad to do a conversion and, voilà, it's about 71 miles, which makes a hell of a lot more sense. Also, when I wait on platforms for the Métro to arrive, they have screens that tell you what temperature it is outside, and of course it's in Celsius. So when I see that it's 15 degrees, I'm like, "I'm going to freeeeeze!" until I realize that that is the equivalent of 59 degrees Fahrenheit, at which point I'm like, "WOOOO! IT'S SO WARM!"

Later

We now rejoin our story's heroine at approximately 2pm in Québec City.  Okay, so I'm a dumb. I have been seriously directionally challenged all throughout this trip, as evidenced by the fact that it took me three separate occasions to find La Banquise, and now the fact that I had intended to take a bus from the station at Québec City but instead ended up hoofing it all the way because I took a wrong turn. However, my instincts did lead me to the right place in the end, although it took about 30 minutes when it should have taken 15. Oh, well.

So once I got into QC, I turned left too soon and ended up walking down rue St. Paul, which isn't part of the bus route I wanted to take. Nevertheless, I knew I was heading in the right direction, which was toward Château Frontenac, as at some point I saw the very tip of it peeking up over the roofs. Vieux-Québec was to my right, and the fleuve St. Laurent was to my left. Eventually I got the urge to turn right, which turned out to be a good thing, as this eventually led me to a steep hill that Lauren and I often trekked up and down last summer. It was tiring. I made it up that hill and then l'Escalier Frontenac, which is how one gets from Bas-Québec to Haut-Québec if one does not want to use the furnunculaire.

Once I made it up the stairs, I was confronted with the great Château Frontenac, which had become the image of my time in Québec last summer with Lauren. A quick photo later, and I was heading down the familiar rue St. Jean, turning right when I saw the classy-looking-but-not-really McDonald's, to find... Chez Ashton, the poutine joint of my dreams!  God, it was so warm and it smelled sooo good. When I ordered the largest poutine size, the woman asked if I knew how big it was, to I which I replied something like, "Oohh, oui." The fromage was squeaky to perfection, the gravy and fries delicious. Drool. Of course, I couldn't finish it, which is what I intended when I ordered such a large size, so I got a lid and a bag and took off, heading toward the bus stop to the university. (They raised the fare from$3 to $3.25. How rude.)

And so now, here I sit, in the sort of Student Union of l'Université Laval, blending in as if I'm still a student here, even though I'm really not.  I'll probably walk around the campus for a bit, go see the mall and Archambault nearby, before heading back to Place d'Youville and touristing some down rue St. Jean. I've probably given myself too much time here in Québec City, as my bus back to Wonderland doesn't leave until 7:30 tonight, but I'll try to keep myself occupied. It's also quite cold, so I can't really make myself want to go outside again.

In the mean time, it hasn't really kicked in that I'm going to be seeing Bruno tomorrow in Drummondville. I know I saw him on Sunday during Un air de famille, but that was different; I was far away and it wasn't HIS show. Now I'll be right in the front row of his show with Guy St-Onge, and hopefully I'll have the chance to meet them after the show. I really, really hope so. I don't think the bus to Drummondville leaves 'till around noon, but I have to check out of the hostel by 11, so that'll be interesting. I'll prolly just hang out at the bus station and probably sip on a strawberry smoothie. 'Cause that's what I do.

Speaking of the bus station, something interesting was going on while I was there. It looked like a film crew was interviewing this guy in a wheelchair. With him was a young woman with short, black hair in Animé-style clothes, and she kept going back and forth from them to a trash can near me. When I got up to get in line, I looked over to see her kiss the guy in the wheelchair, at which point I realized that they were doing something scripting, like a film or short film or whatever. Practically everyone was staring at them, most looking pretty weirded out by the whole thing. Then, eventually, they both got up, changed clothes right there, and left. Weird.

Later

I made the mistake of taking the bus from the university around 3:30, just as schools were letting out. At some point there was a wall or 12 - 15-year-old boys in front of me, all hanging onto the holdy-on straps above, all grinning and being weird, as boys that age often are. Currently I am sitting in Second Cup of Place d'Youville with a cup of hot chocolate that it supposed to be hot chocolate but is actually mostly whipped cream. When the woman was taking my order, she asked me something, and I didn't understand, so she said it in English, and then continued talking to me in French! It was magical and much appreciated.

I'll probably start walking around rue St. Jean in a little bit, taking pictures of how beautiful it looks at night, especially with all the Christmas lights they have up. I still have like two hours before I need to start heading to the bus station, though, so I'll take my time.  I kinda wish I had taken pictures of Vieux-Québec while it was still daylight, but oh well. Two more hours in Neverland and then it's off to Wonderland!

Later still...

I'm on a bus! Again! I ended up arriving at the station an hour-and-a-half before I needed to, mainly due to panic that I wouldn't be able to find the right bus stop from Place d'Youville, especially since it's nighttime and I don't really have any idea where anything is. But I did find it, and upon arriving at the station, I learned that a bus to Montréal was due to leave at 6:30, whereas mine left an hour later. So I went and asked if I could change times, and the woman told me that I'd have no problem doing that, that I just needed to board the bus now instead of later. Sweet! So here I am! It was a lovely day, but I'm already thinking about what awaits me tomorrow!

Sous le vent, dans le vent, partout le vent!

So beginneth the update I know you all crave whilst I am away in what I have fondly begun calling "Wonderland", the reason for which you all shall learn after Thursday when I chronicle the events of Sunday. (Confusing, isn't it? The reason for the delay is because I want to write about each day with its own entry, and since Un air de famille happened on Sunday, I can't talk about it until the episode airs on Thursday.)

 I am currently sitting the Concordia University Welcome Centre, waiting for my guided tour to start. So far, the same more "interested" in the individual person than McGill was, but that's just a vague impression. I've also already been told that it IS possible for Americans to receive financial aid to go here. Sweet! The campus is more integrated into the city, like l'Université de Montréal, as opposed to McGill, which is like a little island in the middle of the city.

Soooo I got up this morning a little later than normal, which was nice. I woke up at 9 and didn't get up for a half-hour, though I told the young woman who took the top bunk of the bed next to mine that she could turn on the light if she wanted. Today, I decided, is my day to be a tourist. I took the Métro to la Station... Something-or-Other... and walked around Vieux-Montréal trying to find la Basilique Notre-Dame. So I walked up a street, passing the entrance to Chinatown, and made my way around. I got a bit turned around until FINALLY I found it. Actually, I was going the wrong way and turned around to see one of the towers peeking up above the buildings. Oops.

I looooove Vieux-Montréal, and didn't hesitate to take photos, 'cause forget other people, right? I didn't go into the basilica, nor did I feel the urge, but it was nice to see it,  nonetheless. I sat and looked for a while before going into one of touristiest shops I'd ever seen, and also one I have visited each time I've come to Montréal, first with Sarah and Gloria, and then with Lauren. I got myself a Montréal sweatshirt, a necklace, and a keychain, because I am a dork.

After I left, I wanted to go by the restaurant that Garou owns, since it's right by the basilica, but rue Saint-Gabriel is completely closed off due to construction. Sadness. So instead I made my way back to the metro station (which I now remember is Place-des-Armes), taking the same path I did before. Only when I returned to the station did I notice that, if I turned to my right, I could see the basilica right down the street, and that I needn't have gone all the way around.  Oops.

Later

I have returned to the hostel after a long, exhausting day.  I swear, when I return to Missouri, I'll want to sleep for a week, only I won't be able to since I'll have classes two days later.  Oh, well.  I am currently sitting near the kitchen area of the hostel, as the room is filled with three other women who all look ready for bed, despite the fact that it is currently 6:30 in the evening.

The tour of Concordia was longer than that of McGill's, which I guess is to be expected since the campus is right in the middle of the city.  Surprisingly, I liked the atmosphere of Concordia more, which surprised me since McGill is more similar to Truman.  They also have graduate housing, which is awesome.  What I found amusing was that one of the girls going on the tour was the same one from the tour of McGill, the one from Italy.  I overheard the woman in charge of tours saying that, though this tour was small, the one tomorrow will have 60 people.  Holy crap.  This is, apparently, due to "the Americans' Thanksgiving."  Looks like they all had the same idea I had!

After the tour, I headed back to the hostel to relax for a bit.  The wind is and was seriously insane, actually slowing me down a few times and making it difficult to walk.  Honestly, we don't get wind like that in Kirksville - at least not when I've been there.  As I was walking through the doorway to the corridor that leads to my room, my headphones caught on the handle without my knowledge, and snapped cleanly.  As someone addicted to music, this was quite sad, especially since I have two three-hour bus rides tomorrow, a ninety-minute one on Thursday, another ninety-minute on Friday, plus my flight home that day, I need music.  So I went to Archambault and bought a pair of $10 headphones.  Aw yeah.

From there, I took the métro to try to find La Banquise, the restaurant François took me to on Sunday.  I tried in vain to find it on Monday, but it was impossible.  I managed to get extremely turned around.  So I finally found it this time, only to learn that it is currently closed for renovations.  I was not pleased, especially since I was starving.  So, instead, I went to a diner-like place that I'd passed on the way over called Restaurant L'Anecdote and got some of their poutine instead.  It was quite good, though there was far too much cheese and it was not at all squeaky.  Though I'd spoken in French to the waiter the whole time, as I was leaving, he told me the price in English.  GRRRRR.  I'll just pretend he did it out of habit and not due to my slower speech.  Humph.

Other than that, Québec City tomorrow!  WOO!

Smoothies galore!

Though I don't have Internet access at the moment, I've decided to start writing my newest blog entry via iPad, seeing as I have about two hours until my tour of McGill and nothing to do until then.  Speaking of McGill, here I am!   I am currently sitting near the campus entrance, just off of rue McGill College.  It's muddy and gray, but that hasn't impeded me from sitting on this bench and soaking my butt. (Also because I want to go to The Second Cup down the street, but I didn't know it was there and got a smoothie from Starbucks, which was packed, so now I have to wait until I finish my smoothie.)

I haven't taken many pictures yet. I haven't wanted to appear too touristy, even though I am, so I've just been enjoying everything wide-eyed and taking it all in.  My friend François said everything (like the métro stations) seem so much bigger to him when he's with me because he's noticing everything along with me, stuff he never really payed attention to before. I thought that was pretty neat.

So. Yesterday. I won't go into any sort of detail about the recording of Un air de famille until Thursday, when the episode airs, but rest assured: it was awesome.

So instead of chronicling what happened yesterday, I'll recount today's journey thus far! (And probably add onto it later.) François very kindly agreed to come with me on the métro to l'Université de Montréal since I was terrified of taking it myself. It's actually much easier and less daunting than it appears when looking up the routes on the internet, which François tried to tell me, but I kept insisting that I would get kidnapped without him, so he humored me. He even got up a lot earlier than he normally does, which I thought to be quite gracious.

I woke up this morning at 7, though I needn't have gotten up so early since I wasn't leaving 'till 9.  After safely locking away my laptop at the hostel, I headed to la Station Berri-UQÀM to meet François. I was waiting inside the little vestibule-like area, and he came up the escalators and walked right past me, not seeing me, so I had to chase him down. It was amusing.

The first order of business was to continue our task from last night, which was to find bagels. François randomly started craving bagels, and I thought bagels sounded good, so we walked all over trying to find a place. 'Twas quite a good way to explore Motntréal off the beaten track. We finally found a bagel café place that wasn't supposed to close until 11, and we got there at 10, but they closed early. Those bastards. So we got some random junk at a convenience store whose name escapes me despite the fact that they're all over the place.  We went to the same bagel café place which was, of course, open. I got "Un bagel à la cannelle et raisin," and it was quite good. After that, we went back to the Métro and took the blue line to la Station Université de Montréal. I had thought that François would drop me off once we got off the subway, but he helped me find the correct "pavilion" and explored the university with me.  Even after we found the office of the professor who agreed to meet with me, he stayed with me until I had about twenty minutes left 'till the meeting.  We hung out outside the building, talking about literature and renaming mittens.  When he left, knowing we wouldn't see each other for the rest of my time in Québec, I was sad. I am still sad, because he is awesome.

The professor I talked to, Professor Lapointe, was very nice. We didn't talk very long, but she answered the few questions I had, and gave me some things to think about. For instance, I've thought about teaching at CÉGEP here in Québec, and one of the draws was that I might not need a Masters; however, she told me that though that is the basic requirement, most professors DO have a Master's, so I wouldn't be as marketable as them. Anyway.

After we said goodbye, I headed back the way I'd come, back to the Métro station. I rode to the end of the blue line at Snowdon and transferred to the orange line, then got off at Station Lionel-Groulx and transferred to the green line, finally getting off at Station McGill. Surprisingly, I found myself in a mall, which I hadn't expected. However, I made my way out to rue Ste. Catherine and headed west on rue McGill College, got a strawberry smoothie at Starbucks, found the campus, and sat down on the aforementioned bench. However, I am now writing this from a café called Second Cup (which has Internet access - woo!). It's connected to a lovely looking bookstore, so I'll probably check it out before my tour, which is in about an hour. After that... Qui sait?

Later

I am now back at the hostel, taking a break before venturing out into Wonderland once more.  I'll probably go back to La Banquise, which is where François and I went for dinner last night.  Dear God, it's good.  Also, all I've had today are two smoothies and half a bagel, so I'm kind of running on empty.

Most of my room here is empty.  It's a long room with one section at the front with one bunk bed, a small "hallway", and then another section in the back with two more bunk beds.  When I got here, there were two free beds - one in the front and one in the back, both bottom bunks (thank God - I took the one in the back), but now there's only one other person here, and she's got the bottom bunk up in the front of the room.  We've said "hi," but other than that we keep to ourselves, which is totally cool with me.

I quite like this hostel.  Lauren and I stayed here last year, but it was only for a night.  My favorite worker seems to work only nights, and his name is Thibault.  He is, apparently, French, and asked where I learned French, and that it's really good.  (Teehee.  That's not why he's my favorite.)  I've got three more nights here, and then I'll spend my last night in Montréal in Drummondville after Bruno's show since the buses don't come back late enough.  Woo!

Lord, I am tired.  So flipping tired.  I mean, the exercise is great, but I have been walking, and walking, and walking, and walking.  My feet hurt.  But hey, if I want to come to school here eventually, I should probably get used to it.

So yeah, I had my tour at McGill.  Surprisingly, all of the other students there, except for two, were American.  There was someone from New York, Georgia, Rhode Island, and then there was a girl from Italy and then from Montréal.  The tour was fine - the school is nice, very Truman-like in that it's like a little oasis in the middle of the city, with old buildings, and trees, and squirrels.  All of the students on the tour with me were preparing to enter as undergrads, so they were young and with their parents and it was cute.  I didn't learn all that much about graduate studies or the particular department I'm interested, but I've only got the Concordia tour tomorrow, so I may go back after or before.  Tomorrow will also be my "tourist day."  I've held back from taking too many photos so far, but now I've decided I don't care, and if I want to take a picture of the Garou poster in the window of Archambault, then by golly, I will.

God, I love this place.