Old and new

I am writing this as an afterthought to this post and maybe you will find contradictory what you are about to read. To illustrate the comment I am going to make, I just thought I would put first this picture of the glass pyramid inside the Louvre museum. It illustrates the counter-argument, or at least counterpoint of what I was saying then. Indeed, new constructions, and definitely modern looking ones, can stand with new ones in perfect harmony and almost if the old had been made to mix with the new.

Back in another life, I used to teach French around Montreal in various businesses. Some companies were based in old factories, warehouses and what have you, and were mixing elements of old architecture and new things build on it. It was often strange to see the marriage of ultra modern offices and old buildings, but somehow it often worked. I don't know how people who were working there from 9 to 5 were feeling about these places, but it did make my job more enjoyable.

Boisson d'avril

Je ne connais presque rien du groupe Groovy Aardvark, mais je ne sais pas pourquoi, j'ai toujours aimé cette chanson et puisqu'on sera le premier avril demain, autant la mettre ici. Elle me rappelle bien des soirées arrosées et c'est une excellente musique de fond pour les beuveries:

A long, dark night

Yesterday, we got a complete blackout from 5:00PM(ish) to the early hours of the morning. I got the title for this post from the neighbour, who came to warn us to "be prepared for a long dark night". So that was a major blackout. Of course I have known major blackouts in my life, sometimes in spectacular circumstances (like this one or that one). But one never gets used to extended ones like the one we just had.

Of course, when it happens, it is an inconvenience that illustrates how much we are dependent on technology. That said, it was not totally devoid of charm. We were lucky enough to have plenty of candles and it proved quite useful: we could lit the room and it gave us just enough light to read a bit. Of course, the mix of shadows and candlelight made the flat very atmospheric. The blackout also made us (re)discover the neighbours and appreciate them. Strange that it is easier to start a conversation when you share the same problems. So the long, dark night was not all bad. That said, we sure could do without another one.

Le corbillard

C'est la Semaine Sainte depuis hier, et l'incroyant que je suis tient tout de même à le souligner. Depuis hier la semaine ont une ambiance mortelle appropriée à cette semaine qui mène au Vendredi Saint (où je jeûnerai aux bagels et saumon fumé, tu parles d'un sacrifice): il a plu des cordes et il fait frais. Je pensais mettre de la musique sacrée, mais une petite anecdote m'a mis une chanson de Georges Brassens en tête. En effet, j'ai en effet vu un corbillard sur le chemin du retour. Un grand véhicule noir, avec le cercueil bien visible et fleurs ostentatoires et croquemorts portant chapeaux haut-de-forme. J'ai pensé aux Funérailles d'antan. Je dois admettre que les hauts-de-forme donnent un certain décorum à la funéraille, voire un charme certain. J'ai ressenti une ombre de culpabilité à trouver charmant ce qui pour beaucoup doit être un spectacle d'une tristesse immense, mais j'ai quand même la chanson de Brassens en tête. Enfin, puisque l'on va célébrer la mort-résurrection putative d'un prophète juif, une chanson sur les funérailles colle assez bien à la semaine.

Old buildings

This is an outdoor picture of the pub we visited a month ago. I love old buildings, whether they are pubs like this one, churches, houses (like the Victorian house I was sharing in Liverpool), or simply new businesses in an ancient place. I thought about it yesterday when I was walking around, that this is something I really appreciate about Europe in general and England in particular: they have plenty of old places, old buildings, old architecture, wherever you are. In America, you don't have that feeling of walking with history just by looking at the architecture around you. A century old house is almost an antiquity and often out of price, or it is crumbling and about to be demolished. Architectural patrimony is a relatively new concept to the new world, while in the old one it is integrated in the psyche. This is the feeling I had when I walked around anyway.

I guess this wide eyed, naïve attitude I have towards European architecture betrays my status of outsider. And since I know nothing about architecture and its history, these observations are the ones of a complete amateur, most likely full of clichés and false perceptions. When I go back to Québec and spend time in Montreal and Quebec City, I will look around for old buildings (might be easier in Quebec City), see if I am more perceptiver to their presence.

Compter les heures

Bon, cette photo date de notre voyage à Vancoooouver, c'est une horloge à vapeur, elle n'a donc rien à voir avec le Québec, mais je la mets ici 1)parce que j'aime bien mettre de jolies photos de temps en temps, ça brise la monotonie, 2)parce que j'aime bien l'horloge en question (les vielles horloges en général, en fait) et (surtout) 3)parce que ça reflète bien mon état d'esprit. Nous allons au Québec bientôt, ma femme et moi, et comme à chaque retour au bercail, surtout quand celui-ci devient imminent, je commence à m'impatienter et compter les heures. Ca me fera du bien de changer d'air. Surtout que ce sera l'air du pays. Alors plus le jour approche, plus le temps me semble long, même si j'ai de quoi me tenir occupé. Et là je dis des banalités.

Addendum: L'introduction de ce billet est peut-être plus longue que le reste.

An aria for this melancholic day

Well, we have today a rainy, even stormy day, the first storm of the spring, with lightning and all. I find it better than late snow. I was wondering what music to put on this blog for such circumstances. I don't want to put Vivaldi's spring here, that would be too obvious. Easter is coming soon and I guess something out of Mozart's requiem could be fine for a gloomy weather, but I put on this blog my share of sacred music in the past. Then I thought: why not some Handel? Two days ago, it was the anniversary of his Messiah, which would certainly suits the coming Easter (at least as much as it does Christmas, the holidays which it is usually associated with), but I want something profane. So I am putting here the aria from his opera Rinaldo, Laschia ch'io pianga, maybe its most famous aria.

I have first heard the aria in a scene(which you can see here on Youtube) from the movie Farinelli, a musical melodrama based on the life of the castrato. A very good scene from a not quite great but underrated movie. But maybe I am easily impressed when it comes to opera. Nothing beats Amadeus, however Farinelli was quite watchable. I loved the aria then, I love it even more now that I can understand it. It has a beautiful melancholic feel to it, perfect for gloomy days. It is here interpreted by Danielle de Niese, who I think sings Handel beautifully:

Le gros bon sens?

Michèle Ouimet chronique aujourd'hui sur les nouvelles mesures du gouvernement Charest concernant les accomodements raisonnables. Elle a des réserves, mais titre son article "Enfin, le gros bon sens". Il aurait dû s'appeler "Le moins qu'ils puissent faire". Je suis content qu'on interdise le voile intégral dans les institutions publiques et je suis en profond désaccord avec Michèle Ouimet quand elle dit qu'il y aurait fallu des exceptions pour les cours de francisation, sous prétexte d'intégration. À ce degré-là d'intégrisme, l'intégration est impossible sans fermeté et rigueur de la part de la société d'accueil. Il semblerait que Michèle Ouimet ait accepté les niaiseries dévôtes de Naema. Déplorable. Cela dit, elle a raison de dire que l'interdit de symboles religieux devraient être amenés chez les juges et les policiers. Pour ma part, j'étendrais cela aux membres de la fonction publique et aux enseignants. On ne peut clamer que l'état est laïque et permettre à ses représentants de porter un signe religieux, quel qu'il soit. André Pratte croit que ça fait de moi un "tenant d'une laïcité pure et dure", je crois plutôt que c'est le signe de laïcité rigoureuse. Laisser un fonctionnaire porter un symbole religieux, c'est encourager tacitement une croyance.

Ah oui, et pas tout à fait dans le même ordre d'idées, mais un peu tout de même, je recommande la lecture de cet éditorial de Mario Roy sur le projet de loi irlandais sur le blasphème (je vous jure) et sur la résolution onusienne condamnant la "diffamation des religions". Ce sont de dangereux projetts qui cautionneront l'intégrisme religieux, tout en menaçant sérieusement la liberté d'expression. Ici aussi, le gros bon sens semble disparaître pour accommoder toutes le susceptibilités. Ici encore, la fermeté et la rigueur devraient être de mise.

Musing on spring, again

Yes, I am blogging often about spring these days. I seem to be lacking inspiration for anything else. Anyway, I was wrong, today was lovely, warm and everything. So long for gloom and doom. Until tomorrow, that is, when it is supposed to get rainy.

Spring is not my favourite season, for various reasons. The temperature changes too much, for one. The same thing happens in autumn (my favourite season), but then nature takes a fiery beauty. It is never as beautiful as when it is dying. During springtime, it often looks just as bare as in winter, except without the snow, and well, it smells. Spring stinks. So does autumn sometimes, but spring more so. All the rotting, mouldy things that were frozen or buried in the snow get out again. I have to admit that here it is not as bad as in Québec, as not as much junk gets buried in this generally much milder temperature.

Spring has some nice things going for it: Easter and my birthday, mainly, and of course some memories related to the season and those two events, which I will spare you for now. But on the whole, I consider spring to be a long rehearsal before summer.

Question existentielle (4)

Il fait un temps splendide aujourd'hui, alors qu'hier c'était gris et pluvieux. Le printemps a des humeurs changeantes. Ce qui m'amène donc à poser ma quatrième question existentielle:

-Que porter en avril?

Gloom and doom

I was right to say that March is a treacherous month. After a week of nice weather and a first day of the spring absolutely idyllic, it is now rainy, cold (well, the rain makes it cold), and dark. So it is now gloom and doom, weather-wise at least.

Des heures de plaisir en perspective

Ma mère m'a demandé récemment de mettre de l'ordre dans ma bibliothèque lors de mon prochain séjour au Québec. Elle me fait la même requête à chaque fois. Étant donné la surcharge de bouquins, ça risque de prendre un peu de temps. Il me faudra classer ceux à garder, ceux à donner (assez peu je le crois) et ceux à ramener avec moi, ce qui ne plaira pas à ma femme, puisque notre bibliothèque ici est déjà surchargée. D'habitude, ma mère essaie de convaincre de m'y mettre en me disant que ça sera une partie de plaisir si je prends une bonne bière en même temps. Il m'en faudra plus qu'une, je le crains.

Beefing up the blogroll, at last

As I have been an avid follower of various blogs since I started blogging myself, I thought it was about time that I beefed up the blog roll to your right. I hope I did not forget any of them. I hope I did not forget anyone. I already mentioned a few of them recently, I will point out to some of the others. So you now have here:

-The Atheist Experience. I follow the blog and the show assiduously, I became one of their fans through Youtube. Pretty busy blogs as many people post on it.
-Ariane Sherine's blog, the one who started the Atheist Bus Campaign. She blogs only sporadically.
-L'Étrange cas du Baron Luisant. If you can read French and like old serials, this one is for you. It's a brilliant pastiche from an old friend of mine.
-Leigh Russell's blog. Leigh actually found this blog before I found hers. She also happens to be a published author of crime fiction novels, so I was very flattered that she comments here.
-Nuts and Reasons. Another atheist/humanist/secularist blog.
-Mozart's Girl's blog. There are never too many Mozart fans around.
-Orange and Black, mainly about Halloween.

I hope I am not forgetting anyone. Some random observations about the :

-The French content is distressingly low, only one of the new blogs is in French. Just like for my own blog (mea culpa), which is a shame as it is called Vraie Fiction. I think it is the result of me living in English for most of my life. English language has a power of attraction that I cannot avoid.
-Just like the way I blog, the way I follow blog is pretty anarchic: there are no central themes or topics to the group of blogs I follow, some are about atheism/humanism, others are about a very specific holiday or about various arts.
-I started blogging to and for my family and close friends, but it quickly extended. I sitll have a very modest readership (although I did receive some attention from time to time), yet I really feel part of the blogging world.

Premier jour du printemps

C'est officiellement le premier jour du printemps aujourd'hui, je m'en suis à peine aperçu. C'est parce que la température est printannière depuis à peu près une semaine, mars ayant des allures d'avril. Nous en avons profité, ma femme et moi, avec la belle-mère, la belle-soeur et le conjoint de celle-ci. Nous avons été chanceux avec le beau temps.

L'arrivée du printemps annonce une série de choses: ce sera ma fête dans un mois (il y a autant de chances que la température soit horrible ou superbe), Pâques arrive à plus ou moins brève échéance, c'est le temps des sucres au Québec (et cette année ma femme en fera l'expérience pour la première fois), changement de régime (enfin j'essaie de manger plus léger), changement d'habitudes de lecture (j'essaie de lire "saisonnier" et j'espère bientôt pouvoir lire dehors), etc.

Bon, je suis sans doute en train de bloguer des banalités présentement. Mais étant un homme saisonnier (ma femme me l'a refait remarquer aujourd'hui), je ne pouvais pas passer l'arrivée du printemps sous silence.

Treacherous March

I said it before before: March is a treacherous month. This week, we had very sunny weather and very nice temperature. It was comfortably warm like springtime should be, yet we are still technically winter. I hope we will not have weather worthy of winter when we should be in the spring. The last two days have been rainy, but still very warm, therefore bearable.

I don't trust March. Hey, it's named after the Roman god of War and since it is a month quick to sudden weather changes, it deserves the name completely. I suspect that it was nasty weather that got in the head of the murderers of Julius Caesar. He was assassinated in March and he was wisely warned to beware of the Ides of March.

Il était temps!

Je viens de lire le Manifeste pour un Québec laïque et pluraliste. Il était temps. C'est peut-être le meilleur texte sur les récentes controverses de la place de la religion dans l'espace public québécois. Et je ne suis pas surpris de trouver mon héroïne parmi les signataires.

The Southern accent of a Northerner

Today, I had a conversation about a possible future job for me. It is very hypothetical right now, but anyway, the agent, who was Italian, asked me if I knew any other languages apart from French and English. I told her the usual line, to which she replied, in Italian: "You say you don't understand a word, yet you speak with a Southern accent." As I said then, the smallest thing can make my day. I was happy not only to see that I could have the accent of a native, but that I could understand what she was saying. It is also funny that it appears that I am a Northerner everywhere except in Italy.

Coïncidence musicale?

Je me le demande depuis mon billet d'hier: est-ce que les chansons À la pêche aux moules, que j'ai brièvement mentionnée ici, et I'll Tell Me Ma ne sont pas un peu liées. Les deux ont pour protagoniste une fille qui se fait harceler par des hommes sans comprendre pourquoi, les deux parlent de l'éveil à l'amour et de l'adolescence, les deux ont disons-le certains sous-entendus pas si sous-entendus, etc. Bon, peut-être que je vois trop de métaphores quand il n'y en a pas. Parlant de moules, il y en a aussi dans Molly Malone. Autre coïncidence?

Lovely day for a Guinness

Yes, yes, I used that picture before, but who cares? It's Saint-Patrick's Day and it is indeed a lovely day for a Guinness. And it is also my favourite Guinness advert ever, the still ones at least. Happy Patty's Day to everyone.

Between the beginning of this post and now, I had time to drink two Guinness and had a bit of Irish stew (so long for Lent and fasting), courtesy of the landlady of the local Irish pub (almost empty, sadly, but I guess tonight is the big night). So I am writing this not quite sober. Anyway, it is time to celebrate, so will put here two Irish songs. I'll Tell Me Ma I first heard in Liverpool on Saint-Patrick's Day and I fell in love with it, I still don't know why. On the Bank of the Roses I only discovered recently, but it is the same thing, I just love it. Both songs are here interpreted by the Dubliners:

Cooking blogs

I am not a big follower of cooking blogs, as I think they are too often virtual catalogues with some nice photographs. That said, there are some that I really love and follow eagerly, as they manage to be quite inventive in this often very unimanginative format. Notice that I use the word "cooking blog" very liberally, as these blogs often are not exclusively about cooking. So here's the list:

-My French Cuisine. Maybe my favourite, and I say this very carefully as I don't want to take anything away from the others. But anyway, I particularly love this one because of the cultural aspect. Her post on Easter got me into the blog, I found it fascinating. I read this blog for the cultural aspect more than the food, as the posts reveal a way of living.
-October Farm. Not really a cooking blog, but as I said I use the term very liberally. There are plenty of posts where there are meals and their recipes, mainly comfort food, they are always seasonal and they always look delicious. I haven't cook one yet, but I have been printing many of them and I am planning to give them a try. I have started following this blog for other reasons, but I was amazed that kept reading the recipes.
-Baking Brownies for Mozart. From Mozart Girl, who is a professional baker (and boy does it show on the decadence of some of the desserts there!). Why I love this blog has nothing to do with Mozart (no seriously), but everything to do with my sweet tooth. I need to try some of those desserts, although I am always worried that I might miss the cakes.

I should also mention that Desideratum posts sometimes recipes which are quite mouth watering. Oh, and I published one recipe myself, here. So far it's the only one.

"C'est sûr que ça va aller dans le sens de clarifier toute cette question"

Je voulais revenir brièvement sur la controverse entourant le niqab, dont j'ai parlé à quelques reprises. La ministre Yolande James a donné une entrevue à La Presse sur la question franchement pitoyable, dans le fond (d'un vide sidérant), comme dans la forme. En effet, je n'ai jamais vu autant de paroles ampoulées, de redondances et de clichés. Elle a l'incohérence de Sarah Palin, c'est dire. Quels gestes "encore plus clairs" est-ce que Yolande James veut poser? On ne sait pas, mais "c'est sûr que ça va aller dans le sens de clarifier toute cette question". Clarifiez d'abord votre pensée, madame, parce que je ne vois pas du tout où vous allez. Je ne voudrais pas être taxé de misogynie ou de phallocratie, mon lectorat sait que j'admire profondément bien des femmes, surtout des artistes et des intellectuelles, mais la ministre Yolande James n'est ni l'une ni l'autre (et surtout pas l'autre). C'est donc sans remords que je lui dédie cette citation de Peyo. Je la compare à la Schtroumpfette mais aussi à Pandore. La vacuité de ses propos, sur un sujet aussi important que la laïcité, est impardonnable.

Sinister mills and a haunting story

Is it me, or do mills in general, windmills or watermills, look sinister? Not that I would mistake windmills for giants or anything, but there is something vaguely ghostly in their appearance, big spectral things standing in an often desolated environment, still or creaking like an haunted house.

Maybe I have this impression about mills because of Krabat/The Satanic Mill, a story by German writer Ottfried Prussler which I have already blogged about in French. It was about a teenager living in poverty as a vagrant, who got hired as an apprentice in a watermill, (after listening to the calls of ravens), only to discover afterwards that the miller is indeed a warlock who kills his most experienced apprentice once a year in a duel to keep his powers. It is a very dark story, but an idealistic one: love vanquishes evil and redeems those who have fallen, power corrupts, but one can escape from its temptations and so on.

They made a movie adaptation recently, which I really want to see. I know Krabat not from the original novel, but from another, much older, animated adaptation by Czech director Karel Zeman, called in French L'Apprenti sorcier and in English Krabat, The Sorcerer's Apprentice, according to imdb. It showed once on a Saturday afternoon when I was a child. I can't believe they were showing such program in the afternoon. Not only because it was violent, many cartoons were at that time, but because when it was violent, it was bloody and even had murders. It also had a dreamlike aesthetic that often took the colours of nightmare. The images were lush and beautiful, but always scary. For the curious, you can find the movie here, in German with English subtitles. When I re-watched it eagerly last Autumn, I was again mesmerised by it. I strongly recommend that you watch it. Krabat is both sweet and terrifying, a rare quality that gives rare pleasures.

Une citation savoureuse tirée des Schtroumpfs

Je viens de lire cette brève sur cyberpresse, concernant le casting de la Schtroumpfette dans la prochaine adaptation de la série bd de Peyo. Enfant, j'aimais beaucoup, puis je m'en suis lassé, jusqu'à ce qu'un prof de bande dessinée au cégep nous montre à quel point l'univers des Schtroumpfs était complexe et les histoires possédaient toute la profondeur des fables. Cela dit, l'adaptation en dessin animé m'a toujours paru d'un infantilisme minable. Enfin bref, la nouvelle sur le rôle de la Schtroumpfette m'a rappelé la recette que Gargamel a utilisé pour lui donner la vie (comme à Pandore?) dans l'album où elle entre en scène. La voici:

“Un brin de coquetterie, une solide couche de parti-pris, trois larmes de crocodile, une cervelle de linotte, de la poudre de langue de vipère, un carat de rouerie, une poignée de colère, un doigt de tissu de mensonge, cousu de fil blanc, bien sûr, un boisseau de gourmandise, un quarteron de mauvaise foi, un dé d’inconscience, un trait d’orgueil, une pointe d’envie, un zeste de sensiblerie, une part de sottise et une part de ruse, beaucoup d’esprit volatil et beaucoup d’obstination, une chandelle brûlée par les deux bouts.”

Oui, je sais, c'est gluant de misogynie, mais je ne peux m'empêcher de rire à chaque fois. Je suis sûr que l'on ne verra jamais ça à l'écran.

Des faucons à mon alma mater

Je viens d'apprendre grâce à un reportage vidéo sur cyberpresse qu'un couple de faucons pèlerins réside à mon alma mater, dans la tour principale de l'université, laquelle était surnommée gracieusement à mon époque le phallus. Si mes souvenirs sont exacts, on a déjà eu de la visite de la part de faucons pèlerins dans le jardin à Chicoutimi, où ils ont fait un festin de certains oiseaux de la mangeoire. J'aime les rapaces en général et les faucons en particulier et je suis heureux que ceux-ci aient réussi à survivre dans la jungle urbaine. Et l'Université de Montréal est une résidence à l'architecture suffisamment solennelle pour ces oiseaux à l'allure princière. On peut les voir en direct sur ce site, que je vais essayer de visiter.

Molly Malone

"In Dublin's fair city,
where the girls are so pretty,
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone,
As she wheeled her wheel-barrow,
Through streets broad and narrow,
Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh!""

Care for some Irish music, as it is soon Saint Patrick's Day? I first got introduced to this classic song in A Clockwork Orange, when a drunken beggar sings it, which causes Alex to dismiss it in these unflattering terms:

"One thing I could never stand was to see a filthy, dirty old drunkie, howling away at the filthy songs of his fathers and going blurp blurp in between as it might be a filthy old orchestra in his stinking, rotten guts. I could never stand to see anyone like that, whatever his age might be, but more especially when he was real old like this one was."

I know Alex is supposed to be a hooligan and a musical elitist one at that, but that was still unfair. Molly Malone is not a filthy song. The beggar does not sing it in the original novel. I don't think Anthony Burgess, who had Irish blood and was in love with the country and its capital, could have come up with something like that. Anyway, the song stayed at the back of my head, as the small part in the musical framework of the movie, until I visited Dublin ten years ago and saw her statue on Grafton Street.

Like many things I love, I don't know exactly why I love it. It's a great drinking song, it has romantic self-irony, a bit of of supernatural element, atmosphere, it also has charming simplicity. I have been wanting to put it on this blog for a while. So here it is, sung by the Dubliners (and I know it takes too much space):

Liquorice

I am warning you, this post is completely trivial, compared to the previous ones this month. I am now a regular customer of the local sweet shop. It is usually my fudge provider, but I do buy other things from time to time. This week, I bought some liquorice candies. I am not the biggest fan of liquorice, I used to have pipe shaped ones when I was a kid, but that never was my favourite dessert. Still, it is nice to get the old-fashioned flavours from time to time. Because there is something I find ancient about the taste of liquorice, I don't know why.

Se tordre de rire

C,est déjà une vieille nouvelle, mais je me devais de le souligner: le ministre Tomassi a finalement changé d'avis sur les garderies religieuses. Je m'en réjouis et je me marre, le voir changer son fusil d'épaule si soudainement après la défense imbécile des garderies qu'il avait plaidée auparavant. J'ai mal aux gencives, mais c'est préférable à la colère. Lire à ce sujet l'éditorial de Marie-Andrée Chouinard, dans Le Devoir.

Confiture et culture

Une citation de ma mère qui me vient en tête:

"La culture, c'est comme la confiture: moins on en a plus on l'étale."

Ce qui, espérons-le, me poussera à l'humilité. J'étale beaucoup du peu que j'ai ici...

Where could I live?

I thought about this yesterday: I have seen a number of places in my life, towns and cities, both as a resident and as a tourist. I was wondering in which one of them I could live and be happy, if I had the opportunity to move there. Loving a place depends of emotional factors much more than objectives ones. I thought I would make the list here of the places I would most gladly move to:

-There is Montreal. Well of course. This is where I feel most at home and where I feel most local. Even though I am from Saguenay, which a Montrealer easily identifies the moment I open my mouth (it appears that I kept my accent), I feel Montrealer. It is true that many Bleuets expats end up in Montreal, so it's like a second home for us. Strangely enough, I do not feel the need to go back and live in Chicoutimi.
-There is also Liverpool, my city of adoption (albeit for a relatively short period of time). It might not be a beautiful place, but neither is Montreal and Liverpool, probably more than Montreal, has character. I never felt local, but I never felt like a stranger either. Maybe it is because Liverpool has a long tradition of welcoming immigrants, which makes it a city where one feels naturally at home, maybe it is because there are cultural similarities between the Scousers and the Québec Northerner I am, maybe it is because Liverpool was the city where I got my favourite job so far. I probably idealise it more than I should, but there you go.
-Bath I think I could appreciate living there, although I might find the history of the city a bit heavy on a daily basis. But it is just so beautiful a place, I wouldn't miss the chance of trying it as a resident.
-Same thing with Cambridge, which I find beautiful, but maybe with too much history. I would certainly try it if I had the chance. I might feel intimidated by the presence of its university, but I would sure spend lots of time in its bookstores.
-Dublin. I have been there once, ten years ago, and for only one week, but I loved it to bits. I did not feel the presence of history at all, even though I saw many tourists. I had a thing for Ireland before I went there, it only got stronger after I left. And I could live on Guinness easily.
-I always thought I would feel comfortable living in Bergamo. But then I would need to improve my Italian. Bergamo is another city I really loved. It is heavy with history, but I did not feel the tourist's presence much, if at all. I have a thing for Italian culture and a personal bound with the country, which I blogged about often. I could develop this relationship in Bergamo. The fact that it is in the North of Italy makes it a natural choice. Like in Liverpool, I would be a Northerner there too. I have one vivid image of Bergamo: I was at the top of a tower (can't remember the name, but it has a history) and I could hear a baritone singing Mozart from the Music faculty of their university nearby. Idyllic. There are one or two other anecdotes about me and the place, which I might blog about one day.

The jury is still out for Vancouver and Manchester, which I loved but as a tourist (and in Manchester as a pilgrim) and I am not sure I could apppreciate these particular cities as much as a resident. Anyway, where could you, my readership, live, if you were given the choice?

Bondieuseries

Quelques nouvelles du Québec m'ont fait bondir hier. D'abord, Naema s'est en douce inscrite à un cours de francisation...en gardant son niqab. L'attitude timorée du gouvernement et des autorités intéressée ne me décourage pas, elle me scandalise. Aujourd'hui j'apprends qu'elle s'est fait expulser à nouveau. C'est bien, mais aura-t-on droit à un autre psychodrame? Elle n'aurait jamais dû être réinscrite où que ce soit avec son suaire sur la tête. Lisez ici l'excellent papier de Mario Roy sur la controverse. J'ai la désagréable impression que les fondamentalistes, toutes religions confondues, veulent tester l'eau. Pas de façon concertée, non, mais instinctivement.

Ensuite, on permet l'enseignement de la religion dans des garderies subventionnées (on peut lire dans cet article les réactions de mon héroïne). Et le ministre Tony Tomassi n'y voit aucun problème, arguant que la garderie est l'extension de la famille. Non, gros tata, une garderie, c'est là où l'enfant prend contact avec la société et on devrait y enseigner des valeurs communes, pas particulières. Et ces valeurs communes sont laïques. Enfin, Tomassi se fait vertement critiquer, mais quand est-ce que ça l'a empêché de dire des conneries par la suite?

Le vent de bondieuseries qui s'abat sur le Québec m'inquiète de plus en plus.

La liste

En préparation de mon prochain voyage au Québec, j'ai pensé faire une liste de ce que je devrai rapatrier (ou expatrier?) ici, ainsi que ce que je devrai acheter. Je fais souvent une liste avant un voyage (voir ici et ici). Je ne la suis que rarement, mais c'est amusant d'en avoir une. Enfin bref, j'ai l'intention de ramener:

-Du beurre d'arachide. Well, of course.
-Du sirop d'érable, peut-être? C'est la saison après tout.
-Des bouquins, bien que les étagères sont surchargées ici. (À ce sujet: devrais-je acheter une nouvelle bibliothèque?)
-Mes dictionnaires français-italiens. Parce que je veux me remettre à l'italien un peu.

C'est tout, mais c'est assez pour le moment.

Reading history like a novel

I am reading two books at the moment, borrowed from the local library. One is on Norman kings in England, the other is on Vikings. I am not a historian, but I had to learn a fairly important amount of medieval history during my studies. I love history, so it was no problem. I don't need it anymore, but I kept a keen interest in it, so sometimes I get a few history books from the library, dry academic ones or more "mainstream" works and I read them just for fun. I was happily surprised that I did not forget everything from my paleography classes and that I could still read bits of ancient texts, providing they were in a clear handwriting. Not much of them, but still...

I am not into historical novels much, unless it goes beyond the genre (it's a cliché expression if there is one, I know). I say this and I am shamelessly forgetting that I love historical dramas (such as this one) and some of my favourite books can be considered historical novels. Anyway, I love reading history the same way I love reading a good novel, with the same feeling of following a drama. I don't know if that makes sense, or if anybody else feels the same.

Pleine lune et crépuscule

J'ai pris cette photo la semaine dernière, lorsque nous sommes allés dans ce petit village dont j'ai déjà parlé ici et ici. Ce n'était pas tout à fait dans la nuit brune, sur un clocher jauni, mais l'image était néanmoins saisissante. Il n'y avait que les fils de téléphones qui juraient avec le reste. Mais tout de même, l'ensemble était propre à inspirer un poète, ou tout le moins un écrivain: la girouette, le soir qui tombe, la pleine lune (enfin je crois), l'image avait une certaine beauté terrifiante, de celle qui ne dévoile pas le diable mais son oeuvre. Quand je dis que je veux retourner à ce village à l'automne...

The charm of old churches

As I mentioned before, we went to a typical English village last week, and I now have enough pictures to fill the blog for quite a while.

So anyway, there was an old church in this nice little English village. I am not a religious man at all, quite the opposite as you know, but I always found old churches full of charm. Furthermore, as a medievalist I have an academic interest in them. I suspected this one was quite old, but since history of architecture is not my specialty I could not evaluate the time period when it was built. I asked at the local pub, just in case, but of course they had no clue. It appears, after researching the Internet, that the foundation dates back to the XIIth century. Just the time period when I am specialised in. Like many other ancient churches it was rebuilt later on, but it still retains some of its medieval look. Looking at a place like this, one almost feels the past centuries as if they were here and now.

I don't want to repeat what I said in the first post about this village, but looking at it, I felt a bit like a M.R. James story or a Dungeons & Dragons game, or a Ha... well, you must know about that one too. I repeat myself, but I guess that is to be expected after blogging for three years now. Even old cemeteries don't look so sinister. Or, if they do, they remain deeply atmospheric. Which is all they need to be. I got married in an old church, a XIIIth century one looking a bit like this one. I might blog about it one day, until then, you have this picture of a piece of ancient time.

Essaient-ils de nous faire pleurer?

Je n'ai pas commenté jusqu'ici la controverse concernant cette étudiante renvoyée d'un cours de francisation parce qu'elle refusait d'enlever son niqab. Tout le monde (ou presque) a appuyé cette décision, même André Pratte, c'est dire. Cela dit, je suis resté très perplexe à lire l'article de Michèle Ouimet sur cette dame. Elle peut bien montrer l'autre côté de la médaille, enfin, audi alteram partem comme dirait l'autre, mais j'ai trouvé le ton tendancieux, comme si on voulait montrer Naema comme une victime tragique d'un concours de circonstances sur lesquelles elle n'avait aucun contrôle. J'imagine que c'est moins pire que d'en faire une martyre, mais Naema s'est placée dans cette situation, ainsi qu'elle le dit "c'est (son) choix" de porter le voile, or elle doit vivre avec les conséquences de ce choix et les limites que celui-ci engendre. Je ne sais pas si La Presse essaie de nous faire pleurer, mais mes yeux sont restés secs.

Kreativ Blogger Award

Hey, Mozart's Girl was nice enough to give me an award recently, it took me a while to get down to it. So here are seven things I haven't told my readership about me:

1)From my long friendship with Italians, I learned nearly nothing of the language and barely any Italian recipes. One was a bruschette recipe which my family still uses to this day and another one of some salmon pasta. I might put them here one day with posterity.

2)As a very young child, I used to have a babysitter who was basically my Mary Poppins. She was funny, smart and taught me many things. I think she is the woman who gave me my wild imagination and got me fascinated with ghost stories and fairy tales.

3) The said babysitter used to feed me with tins of mushrooms. I loved mushroom back then (probably because she was the one feeding me with them), then I started hating them for some reason. I am rediscovering them slowly.

4)I can keep a grudge for ages. For example, there was a kid my brothers and I hated, a spoiled brat who was always up to no good, we were always fighting with him. Through bullying, he stole a toy horse from my yougest brother one day. We got it back, re-stealing it (de-stealing it?) whn the kid was away from his home. The toy was in the kid's back garden, among other stuff he had just tossed around in total indifference. I don't think he ever noticed the loss. Anyway, years (decades!)later, we sat at the same table at a common friend's wedding. He was chubby and balding, even though he was younger than me. I remembered the ancient feuds and I have to confess I felt a bit of schadenfreude seeing him balding like that. That is silly I know and he might be a decent guy now. Still, he was so unpleasant then.

5)I have a tendency to collect silly little things. Sometimes it is an inspired acquisition.

6)My all-time favourite Greek hero is Ulysses, because of that cartoon I used to watch as a kid (funny how much of this post is about childhood memories), which, along with Clash of the Titans, turned me into a Greek mythology buff. I haven't read James Joyce's novel yet, but I am planning to.

7)I got my four wisdom teeth removed all at once, back when I was 18. I looked like a hamster for a week and for a week I ate porridge, mashed bananas and Graham crackers dipped in milk or tea.

So that's it and I understand that a lot of this is about childhood memories. I kept some for other memes and awards.

Okay, and now to whom will I give this award? Here we go:

-My wife first, as she often blogs original stuff and I wished she would blog more often.
-My brother, for similar reasons.
-My youngest brother, for similar reasons.
-Gwen Buchanan as she has not blogged for a while and I miss her artsy posts.

Question existentielle (3)

Tiens, en voilà une autre:

-Pourquoi blogue-t-on?

Je suis curieux d'entendre les réponses, surtout que je me demande ce que je répondrais moi-même.

Musing on Don Giovanni and Mozart

I put that song on this blog before, I know. I thought I would put it again. I have been listening to Mozart's operas a lot these days. I have a long history with Mozart, as a listener and later on as an (amateur) opera singer. I was in Austria on a trip with my family during the 200th anniversary of his death. We spent the next year or so listening to Mozart, then for years my mother listened and listened to it, enough for me to get an overdose by the time I was twenty. I got sick of him and his music.

Then, years later, when I started studying opera, I asked my teacher to get me some Mozart arias to sing. It was partially at the request of my mum who wanted to hear me singing her favourite composer, partially because I wanted to reconciled with his work. She gave me a few songs, including Deh vieni alla finestra. I quickly became a Mozart aficionado again, especially of Don Giovanni, which I rediscovered through its arias. They are beautiful, but the opera in itself is brilliant (one of my favourite), animated by a fascinating character. I hope to reflect on it and on him one day (a little bit more about it here). I have a few regrets in my life, not becoming a professional baritone is one of them, just like having never performed an opera onstage. If I had ever become opera singer, Don Giovanni would have been my role. I don't mean that I would have become famous for my interpretation of him (my voice is too weak I think), but it would have been the role I would have never got tired of singing. I decided to put Deh vieni alla finestra here again, because it was this aria that subrepticely brought me back to Mozart. I have decided to put it here sung by Samuel Ramey.

Apologies to Mozart's Girl for not responding to her award yet. I hope this post will help me be forgiven.

Tiens, la relâche...

Signe que je suis un expatrié: je viens d'apprendre que c'est la Semaine de relâche au Québec. Moi je l'ai eue il y a deux semaines. Demain je suis au travail. Cela dit, les vacances de Pâques sont beaucoup plus longues ici.

L'insignifiance de son Éminence

Pour éviter d'emblée toute ambiguité, il est bon de rappeler que je suis très critique envers les cours d'ECR. Cela dit, ce sera toujours un moindre mal comparé aux cours de catéchèse de mon époque, cours dont le clergé catholique québécois a la nostalgie. Alors donc, bref, récemment mon attention s'est portée sur un résumé d'entrevue avec le cardinal Ouellet, où il critique (encore) lesdits cours. Un certain Gaston Marcotte lui a répondu vertement. À la prochaine connerie de son Éminence, je devrais songer à lui envoyer un courriel directement, ou lui adresser une lettre ouverte. Bon, ses objections contre la laïcisation (bien tardive, bien longue et bien timide) de la société québécoise sont bien connus. Mais parfois, son jupon dépasse un peu trop, comme lorsqu'il sous-entend de l'immoralité de l'homosexualité. Parfois, je trouve l'ensoutané assez culotté. Mais bon, plus il parle, plus il montre son insignifiance.