The Debate Rages On

The debate wages on, at the moment. In one corner, we have those that believe that this little Montreal experiment has run its course. In the other, we have a small faction that believes there’s a world of opportunity waiting for me to find it. As per usual, I’m on the fence. If I had the slightest idea what to do right now, I could move forward with confidence—even if moving forward meant moving back to the city I fought so hard to escape.

So for my own sanity, I’m going to try and go through the two arguments and hopefully come up with some sort of profound decision by the end. Let’s start with the arguments for staying in Montreal:

1) My love of the French language and Quebecois culture. Though I haven’t done nearly as much exploring in recent months as I would have liked, I’m still intrigued by this place. There’s still so much to explore here.
2) The festivals. If I make the long trek home, I would be doing so JUST before the festival season starts. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that summers in Montreal are one helluva good time.
3) The cost of Education. Though I can’t presently afford to keep taking courses, I’m now a Quebec resident and, as such, get the in-province rate. For those unfamiliar with the difference between in-province and out-of-province rates in Quebec, it can come out to approximately 60% difference in tuition rates. And since I’ve already experienced firsthand my need for additional education, it makes more sense to do it where it’s cheaper.
4) The nagging sense of unfinished business. I’ve felt this before, actually… when I was in the Kinesiology department. I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve got things to do and goals to accomplish here. Mind you, the KIN adventure was a less than stellar experience by the end, so my gut feelings really shouldn’t be trusted at this point.

So now to balance things off, I should look at London and the merits of heading back to the Forest City:

1) My whole support system is there. My family and my closest friends all live in London (at least for the time being). As much as they’ve driven me crazy over the years, I definitely miss having them around. I miss talking to people. Truth be told, if I don’t have a class or something, then I don’t talk to another person after I leave work. That takes its toll on a person after a while. Part of the reason I haven’t gone out to do more in this city is I’ve gotten tired of doing everything alone.
2) Lack of a language barrier. Here, I’m an Anglophone who speaks French with a clearly anglo accent. Back home, I would be considered an asset as I’m (by Ontario standards) fully bilingual. Regardless of what people say, the truth is that Anglophones are at a disadvantage when trying to find work in Quebec. They hold us to different standards in French than we do for English. So be it.
3) Cost cutting. By moving back in with my parents for a bit (God help me), I could cut my costs in half while I try and get debts under control.

There are obviously no guarantees that either choice is the “right” one. In looking at the two arguments, I see a conflict between my head and my heart. My heart tells me to stay and fight it out, but my head tells me not to put any more obstacles in my path than necessary. The job market in London still sucks, but if I’m being screened out of the majority of jobs in Montreal anyway, then it’s probably an equal playing field in either city.

So now I’ll open the floor up for discussion. Should you wish to chime in with your opinion, I encourage you to do so. Also, if anyone has any job leads in either city (London or Montreal), I would appreciate hearing about them. Til next time…

My Mind is Blank

We’ve hit March 15 and my mind is still a blank. My parents decided to take advantage of March Break this past week and drove up from London to see little ol’ me. As much as I hate to admit it, I do miss my family occasionally. Sure, it was pretty tight quarters, but it’s the price one pays to have visitors in a one bedroom apartment in Montreal. They were able to entertain themselves while I was at work, so I didn’t need to play tour guide.

I also got back the results of my English-to-French midterm and, while hardly spectacular, was well within the low ‘B’ range, which is fine by me at this point. This course was a good litmus test for me and my fluency in French. It showed me that, though I’ve got a reasonable grasp of the language, it’s going to take longer than the duration of this course for me to approach my own demanding performance standards with respect to mastery.

I also recently got the chance to attend a lecture by Sherry Simon, who wrote a book called Translating Montreal: Episodes in the Life of a Divided City (I just ordered a copy of it, by the way). Her observations have prompted me to read her book, since it seems that she took a different look at Translation. To her, translation becomes a tool of cultural contact and exploration (hmmm… sounds like a theme I can support) rather than a replacement of one text with another. I’m curious to see what direction she takes with it.

Alright, I’m off. Til next time…

Draw Your Own Conclusions

Welcome to 2007! I’ve returned from the surprisingly green environs of London, Ontario and still have a day or so to kill before I start back at work. So I’ve been watching a bit of football and a variety of dvds (including my newest guilty pleasure, a film called Stick It). Since part of my holidays have already been covered on Chris’ blog, I thought I would jump straight to this past Sunday, when I had one of those really Bizarro World moments. Enough preamble, let’s get to it.

This past Sunday, I decided to check out the local Catholic churches. I’m not a devout Catholic by any stretch of the imagination, but recent correspondence with a new friend prompted me to take a look around. So I did some web searches on the Archdiocese of Montreal website and found a listing for Saint-Etienne, located about a block or so from me. It didn’t list the times of the services, so I made a wild guess and took a walk over. Here’s the thing—when I got to the address, there was NO church there! Nothing. There was just a fenced off lawn where I was expecting to see one.

I was a little put off by that. One would think that the Archdiocese would have the good sense to keep their parish listings at least somewhat current. I turned around and started to walk home when I noticed a church steeple off a few blocks away from me. So I decided it was worth a look. After all, I could have gotten the address mixed up. The closer I got, the more I realized how big this place was. It was HUGE. I can’t really say I’m surprised, though, since historically, the province of Quebec has always been a very Catholic province.

As it turns out, I’d found the parish of Saint-Ambroise. The service had started at 11am, so I was already late, but I decided to slip in the back anyway. Now I’m not sure if it was the echo of the hall (if someone can suggest a better word to describe the inside of a church, I’ll gladly take it) or the fact that I’d never spent much time learning religious words in my French courses, but I didn’t understand the majority of what was said. After the mass, I decided to introduce myself to the priest.

He was a pleasant enough fellow, with glasses and gray hair. He gave me the general rundown of the mass schedule and asked the usual questions about whether I’d been baptized, etc. occasionally switching to English after noticing my accent. I’d mentioned in passing that I had moved to Montreal from London and he told me that his brother used to teach Physics at Western. Interesting coincidence, but I didn’t think anything more of it.

On my way out, I took a look at the parish bulletin, trying to find a listing of the mass times and then, before leaving, I remembered my manners and asked the priest’s name. His answer left me stunned. We’re talking jaw-on-the-floor stunned here. I had just been having a pleasant conversation with Denis Saint-Maurice—the uncle of one of my best friends through eighth grade and high school, Martin St-Maurice! I’m a bit disappointed in myself that I hadn’t caught on sooner, since it was common knowledge amongst our group of friends that Martin’s father was a Physics professor. That was the reason they moved to London in the first place!

So I’m not sure what to make of this, to be quite honest. After all, there are a little less than 2 million people in Montreal and I just happened to move into THIS parish’s area? The odds of this happening are lottery-esque. So draw what conclusions you may from this, but I think I’ll be popping into the Sunday services a bit more regularly from now on. Couldn’t hurt, right? Til next time…