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Well, it seems I’ve mastered la valse montréalaise…

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No, that’s not a reference to a certain local massage parlour–although I’m sure it’s very nice.  Anyways, I just got back from la métropole, where I’m somewhat disappointed to report that nine out of 10 Montrealers prefer to speak to me in English.  I’ll have you know that I speak that other language fluently, and have been speaking it since I was a child, but almost every single time I walked into a store or restaurant, I got treated like a tourist from Toronto…  Oh, wait. :(

Truth be told, I’m not from Quebec, I’ve never lived in Quebec, and I hadn’t even been to Quebec in over three and a half years.  For that matter, I’ve haven’t spoken French on a daily basis is almost quatre années.  But while I used to be able to mimic a Quebec accent well enough that I was once mistaken for a guy (capital G?) from Saguenay on the phone, I hafta say my joual has slipped to the point where I’m obviously un asti d’anglais.  I’m still perfectly capable of forming coherent sentences and carrying on a conversation in my second language, but for the most part, as soon as a native francophone hears me speak, they think “He’s probably better off in English.”

And you know what?  They’re right.  I am better off in my native language…although I really wouldn’t mind speaking French, either.  But what I came to realize over the past three days is that there are many Montrealers who are the same way.  Sure, they can speak French perfectly well, but if given a choice, they’d probably pick English.  Thus, there’s kind of this game that goes on, this unspoken test to determine which language the speaker is more comfortable in.  You’ll usually be addressed first in French–which is, after all, la langue du travail–unless you’re in a very touristy place like La Banquise, which I don’t think had any other French-speaking customers when I walked in.  Then, depending on your response, your language skills are assessed accordingly.  Hey, if I’m buying a French novel or a ticket for a French-language movie (or at least one with French subtitles), it’s safe to assume I speak the language.  But when I’m ordering breakfast, and I’m not sure how I’d like my eggs en français (Oeufs brouillés?  Really!?), then I don’t mind if we switch to English.  And that said, you might be disappointed by how much English is spoken between restaurant staff in Montreal, especially if you’re one of the few who actually voted PQ in the last election. ;)

Another profession that seems to attract the anglos is record-store salesman.  Of the four vinyl shops I visited, only one had multiple staffers who preferred to speak French.  I guess music is the universal language though, right?  While I never did find that Guy Lafleur disco record–in either official idiom–I still had a couple productive record-shopping trips.  More on that later (this week).

My Montreal experience came to a head when I was asked by two young men of unknown ethnic origin (put it this way: they weren’t white) how I enjoyed the previous evening’s concert, in English, while waiting in line for the next one.  I was actually the one who subconsciously switched to French after a couple repartees, but they adeptly followed suit, although I later heard them speaking to each other in Shakespeare’s tongue.  The next day, I was walking down Mont-Royal behind two young blondes–again, ethnic origin unknown (looked like dye jobs)–who seamlessly switched back and forth while discussing the items they picked up at the grocery store.  And I was like OK, I can do this dance…if only more people would let me lead!

Alas, while I thoroughly enjoyed my long weekend in Montreal (more on that, well, for the rest of the week), I can’t see myself moving there.  Not until I “improve” my accent, since I’d never be able to get a job otherwise with my ne plus anglo surname.  Hmm, you can’t take a continuing ed. class in joual at Glendon College, can you?

One final note: Griffon Rousse is a damn good beer (even if I continually butchered the second part of its name), while two Boréale Blondes for six bucks is a damn good deal.  But I’ll be damned to Windsor if the best brew I had in Quebec wasn’t the house beer at La Banquise, a golden pilsner microbrewed by Alchimiste, a Joliette-based brand best known for its IPA.  Hell, I’d go back to Quebec for that alone–oh, and the poutine, too. ;)



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