Bienvenue a Quebec

Bonjour de Quebec! After spending a couple days in Ottawa, where my good friend Nadav showed us the warmest hospitality anyone could ask for, we found ourselves crossing the Ottawa River into La Belle Provence du Quebec. We shared a reflective moment on that bridge, standing half way between province number five and six, remembering Ontario and breathing a sigh of relief that it was finally over.

There were no drastic differences on the other side of the river, except for the language. We instantly found ourselves amongst people we could not understand and signs we could not read, and had to remind ourselves that we were not in a foreign land. We were still in Canada, but in a place with a history and culture unique to all we have seen thus far. Bienvenue au Quebec!

The Quebecois know how to connect with others, how to laugh and how to party. We felt it in Montreal, where numerous festivals take over the city during the summer, and virtually every street is packed with pedestrians, cars, restaurant patios and street performers from nine till three in the morning. In Sherbrooke, where we spent two days with our friend Moe, we notice the slow pace and attention to detail that people here choose, and rightly so. And now, the capital, quite possibly the most beautiful city in the country. As you can tell, we have been taking our time lately, stopping frequently to take in all the beauty and wonder that this province has to offer. It`s hard not too.

On several occasions, I have felt utterly powerless due to my lack of French - so bad is it, that I actually had to ask someone how to say `from` to form the first sentence of this post. Too many conversations I`ve had have gone like this:

me: Bonjour, tu parle anglais
other: non, pardon
me: ok, au revoir
other: au revoir

The ability of language to draw barriers between people is astounding. Simply due to the fact that I don`t speak French, I am unable to communicate with people who share the same national anthem, prime minister and currency as I do. Words that hold meaning to some are merely background noise to others. Until I live up to my promise to myself to learn it, French will remain sound without meaning to me, and my ability to call myself Canadian with confidence will be jeopardized.

Quebec City has a fascinating story. This is where it all began: it was one of the first cities in Canada, and the battles that took place here hundreds of years ago shaped our nation`s history. You can feel it, walking through the old streets, amongst the fortresses and cannons that the British erected after winning the fight against the French on the Plains of Abraham in 1759. That battle, which lasted 20 minutes, decided that Canada would be a British, English speaking colony, rather than a French one. If the French colonists had been more prepared, most of us could be speaking French as our first language right now, while eating poutine and drinking wine until the cows come home. Man, that`s crazy.

This has all got me thinking alot about war, and what a huge role it plays in deciding a nation`s destiny. It`s easy for us to say war is bloody and evil, and I`m not saying it isn`t. But out of war comes not only death, but birth as well - of new countries and constitutions, rulers and ideologies. If we are to be truly proud of our country, I guess that means we must be thankful that those wars happened the way they did. Because if they hadn`t, things could be very different right now.

But enough rambling. We are still alive and living, and that`s all that really matters. In Sherbrooke, there were several occasions where we forgot where we were for a brief moment. It`s hard to keep track, when every day we`re sleeping somewhere different: two days ago, in a friend`s house; yesterday, a public park; last night, in the home of a generous Quebecois family. And tomorrow, we`ll be some other place, still uncertain. The only constants in our lives are our bikes and the people we are biking with.