I started walking at 6:00 am in a misty rain without seeing more than a handful of vehicles before I came to the village of St-Pierre-les-Becquets. It was a gloomy morning. Even the village church looked like it belonged in a horror movie.
As I walked along, the world slowly came to life. An old woman waved to me from her porch. Children waiting for the school bus waved to me.
When I stopped at a Subway in Gentilly for breakfast, the patrons nodded greetings to me. An elderly gentleman bowed his head in respect and greeting.
Some people have told me that in rural Quebec, I would be given a hard time because I don’t speak French. But that hasn’t been my experience at all. It’s true that most people here don’t speak English, but with my few French words and their few English words, we have fun communicating.
A couple of days ago when I bought poutine, I told the girl at the counter, “Mon francais, c’est ewwwwwww.” And then I waved my hands about my head to emphasize just how poorly I spoke French.
She responded, “My English, also ewwwwwwww.” And she imitated my hand gestures.
We both burst out laughing. It was a great human moment.
Everywhere I’ve been so far in Quebec, I have been shown nothing less than the greatest courtesy and respect. People have been patient with my attempts to speak French and there has always been laughter.
I shouldn’t have expected anything less, I suppose. Everywhere I have travelled in the world, I have found that regardless of the economic or political climate, people generally are friendly and helpful. And it’s no different in Quebec. I have found the people to be warm, friendly, and a real joy to be around.
One thing I noticed in rural Quebec that I haven’t seen anywhere else is that the farmers proudly display their names on their properties. “Ferme”, followed by the name of the farmer or the co-op. To see a sign that reads “Ferme Guy Picard” shows me that Guy has a real pride in his farm. I really like this cultural idiosyncrasy.
