the Women of Quebec

I’ve been bouncing back and forth on this blog, alternating between semi-serious content and, as Morgan would describe it, the utterly ridiculous. Well, Morgan, this one falls into the utterly ridiculous category, if only because I miss your razor-sharp critiques of my views. This particular topic has been in the works, in one form or another, for the past 2 years. Though I’ve already dabbled in subjects like the “Perfect Woman,” I’ve neglected mention of the sexiest women in Canada (if not the world): les Québécoises!

So why have I decided to put fingers to keyboard now? Well, it’s inspired by a conversation I had recently with a new acquaintance (Hi Ver!). I haven’t the foggiest idea how we got on to the topic, but I tried to quantify what it is about les Québécoises that has captured my attention so thoroughly. Now thanks to the wonders of the internet, you’re all privy to the discussion as well! So what is it about them? What makes them so different from, say, the women in Ontario?

It really starts with the collective attitude. This is where I start making gross generalizations, based entirely on my perceptions. Since I subscribe to the idea that one’s perception is one’s reality, this is my reality. Canada is blessed with 2 major cultures within its borders: Anglophone and Francophone. As a result, we don’t need to look to other countries or cultures to find someone with exotic appeal. We have about 3-4 million of them right here in Quebec!

Let’s start with the accent. C’mon guys, admit it! We like accents. We like hearing the cute ways they pronounce different words. For me, though, it goes back to hearing the accent when they’re speaking their mother tongue. When I hear a woman with a québécois accent, my knees get weak. It doesn’t matter if I have seen them yet or not. I could overhear a conversation in French outside my office door and I start to melt. It’s like I have it hardwired into my brain… must be the calls of my ancestors or something.

Next there’s the style. Quebecois women have their own style, like some sort of trendy cross between skater punk, hippy chic and haute culture. They can be casual or sophisticated and carry it off in ways that Ontario girls just don’t. Line up girls from Toronto and girls from Montreal and I guarantee you’ll see a difference between the 2 groups. Fashion choices are more a reflection of their personalities. Women from Ontario seem more likely to follow American trends than Québécois women. Les Québécoises put their own spin on things.

My old friend Chris used to say, “It’s what’s inside that counts.” Mind you he was talking about the rather substantial contents of a girl’s blouse at the time, so let’s talk about that. I believe that Québécois women are genetically predisposed to having amazing bodies. When one looks back on the “traditional” Quebecois foods, one finds a variety of high sugar, high carbohydrate dishes that make me wonder how the whole province hasn’t gone into insulin shock. La tarte au sucre (literally “sugar pie”) is exactly that. So how is it that there are so many tiny, trim women here? Natural selection, I tell you. And à mon avis, nature has chosen wisely!

So now we’ve reached the final piece to Al’s ramblings about les Québécoises: personality. When I see, listen to, or talk with a Québécoise, I see something very obvious in their personalities. There’s a passion and fire there that is lacking in most Ontario women (Sorry, girls! You know where to send the hate mail/comments). They’re like little balls of fire. God help you if you get into an argument with one of them because they’ll dig in their heels and fight for their point of view, even when proven wrong! They’ll keep at it anyway. There’s just something intangible that appeals to me.

I think an anecdote is in order to try to illustrate my point. One day in mid March, I was walking down Avenue du Parc on my way home after work. The snow had been melting and the grass went and muddy on either side of the sidewalk. From the other direction, I see a couple of teenagers walking toward me, a guy and a girl. As they got closer, I heard the girl speaking with the accent I’ve come to know and love. By this point, we’re probably within 20 feet of one another when, out of nowhere, the girl bodychecks her unsuspecting companion into the mud! I smiled, laughed to myself, and thought, “Now THAT’s a Québécoise!”

So there you have it. I have no clue if I’ve managed to make my fascination with these women any more clear than before, but at least I tried. So til next time…