Lovely Awkward: A Year of Wine, Romance and Life Among the French

Lovely Awkward: A Year of Wine, Romance and Life Among the French
Showing posts with label ottawa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ottawa. Show all posts

Wednesday, 30 May 2012

Returning to Canada with the baby

Following our trip to Venice, I took a break from blogging. I didn't really want to take a break, and I didn't mean to stop entirely, but I felt that I should take a small pause for the baby. I also wanted to make sure I tried out this whole "sleep when the baby sleeps" idea before filling my small daytime breaks with typing (when I should be catching up on sleep).

We took the baby on his first boat ride to Granville Island!
Here's where we are now: We're on an extended visit to my continent to work, visit and introduce the new baby around. We're into our second month in Canada with two more months to go. So far, it's been fun, but also a little exhausting. We've been to Ottawa, Vancouver, and Seattle and we're still planning to hit Toronto, Montreal and New York before we're done.

I'm happy to be here roaming around, but I also miss France -- the country I now definitely consider home. I don't think the baby even remembers his home country, but he'll have plenty of time to explore it when we get back. Years and years, I would guess.

Anyway, breaks are good: Breaks to sleep, breaks from immersion, from blogging, from friends and family (or with friends and family), from countries or simply routine. A break is somewhat of a mini-leap, and even if it's short, it often provides some inspiration and renewal.

This break at least has me writing again, for the first time after the birth. Here's a story I wrote about giving birth to a baby in France for Ottawa Parenting Times Magazine. (Pictures of us included!)

Monday, 18 July 2011

Bullying at the beach -- Constance Bay

Our time at an Ottawa beach was cut short yesterday because of the pending storm (the same one that blew down a stage at Bluesfest, injuring some of the people at the concert), but also for another reason: One of the property owners at Constance Bay had begun to yell at us.

The woman was complaining about us and another family sitting in the sun nearby. She said that we were on private property, that we weren't allowed to be on any part of the beach (even though I was sitting in the path of the public water access route), that we were only allowed to use the public beach down the road, that we weren't allowed to eat food (we had snacks), and that she was going to call a By-law officer on us.

She kept saying, "I'm not going to argue, it's 100 degrees out!" which meant that she wanted us to stop disagreeing with her and leave the beach.

The odd thing is that she had no argument. We were in the right place, as indicated by the signs. She just didn't like us being in a public area near her house.

The fact that this argument happened at all bothered me, of course, because arguing isn't pleasant. But what surprised me most was that the argument stopped after she got to me -- the only adult on the beach that day without a foreign accent.

The woman had already pushed out a family that was speaking Polish (I think) and she'd begun to shoo the Spanish-speaking couple and French people I'd come with. And then when she got to me, her first question, amidst some shooing, was "Where are you from?"

I told her that I was from "here" and that I knew that we were in a public area (again, because of the signs). I wasn't trying to fight her or teach her any lessons, but I found it odd that she'd come out to yell at people when we were clearly beyond her property line. We had one towel outside of the public access route, but I've since confirmed that it wasn't on her property either. Although, we still moved it over into the water access route. (Some info about the battle for beach ownership in Constance Bay is here and here.)

Anyway, this is really just a story about a grumpy neighbour and I know those people can exist anywhere. The woman didn't like the foreigners, but she didn't like me either. The difference is that the foreigners couldn't defend themselves by saying (and demonstrating) that they were from "here" -- even though some of them were -- so she pretended her own wishes were regulations when she spoke to them.

As someone who has spent a few years being a foreigner in another country, I know how easily a foreigner can be bullied. And this woman's bullying yesterday, frankly, was embarrassing -- especially since I've spent the last two years telling the French that Canadians are considerate rule followers who like people from other countries.

I get that the people of Constance Bay want to defend their beaches against drunken bonfires and rowdy, dangerous parties. I get that they'd like to own their waterfronts, that this woman doesn't represent the entire community, and that identifying the public accesses with signs might draw a few visitors that the adjacent property owners hadn't expected. But this isn't the fault of the visitors -- including the ones with foreign accents. We weren't making a political statement on either side of this land issue, we were just following the signs.

If the sign telling us we'd found the way to the water was wrong, maybe someone could put up a different one?

UP WEDNESDAY: More on the wonderful, amazing, and inspiring experiences we've had since landing back in Canada!

Friday, 19 November 2010

The roundabout way


Here's my take, so far, on surviving the French roundabout: The roundabout way, Ottawa Citizen , Nov. 19, 2010. The story's in the Citizen because Ottawa, my hometown, opened its first two-lane roundabout this week.

Sunday, 24 January 2010

This is not real!

I went out to Pub Italia on Preston Street last night with a big group of friends. They were from different parts of my life, and different times, but everyone blended together well and we had a great time. We had some drinks and some food and talked about travel and crazy leaps for love.

As people started to leave, one by one, I got up to give them hugs. But when I wrapped my arms around the first person's coat, I realized that I haven't yet made this long-term leap. In my mind, I'm still not leaving for good.

Everyone here in Ottawa is still familiar and I still have so many ties to each of their lives. When I go to France on Monday, most of those ties will still be in tact. But slowly, they'll start to fray or snap or whatever happens. And that's when I'll be cut adrift. That's when I'll really be gone.

Luckily, there was one friend who came out last night who I hadn't seen in years. I have no idea how many. Two? Three? I'd known him since high school and last night, everything was the same as it always was. No ties were needed because my awareness of his daily activities has nothing to do with our friendship anymore.

I guess that will eventually be my relationship with Canada. When I'm a few months into this very real trip, some of the ties will snap. After a year, some will purposely be broken. I'll have to change my driver's licence and health card and make new friends. But some emotional connection will remain -- that strange, "we went through things together" connection that exists between old friends.

Just as I had no idea how to really say goodbye to my friends last night, I have no idea how to say goodbye to this country. I'm just going to imagine that I'll see them all again soon and hope that I don't cry to much when the reality hits me in France.

Tomorrow = day 1 of the real, true, pending, romantic, exciting new life.
(Although I'll be celebrating with a bag of peanuts and a movie on the plane.)

Monday, 30 November 2009

Leaving France for Ottawa

Today is packing day. Leaving France is very confusing. It's raining out, sort of reflecting my mood. I miss home, but soon I'll miss here, too.

I answered the phone for the first time today, which made me think I should probably go back to Ottawa to get some space to think about what I'm doing. The telemarketer hung up on me because of my accent and reminded me that I'm actually from somewhere else.

Must leave both places to figure out which one feels most like home.