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.