End of the month...

...but beginning of the week. I don't know what to think of it. There are moments like this, sometimes, I think I have a topic to blog about, or muse about, I feel I have one, even, but cannot quite grasp it. So what to think of this?

I don't like February much, or Monday for that matter. March is starting tomorrow. I like March better, if only for St-Patrick's Day. But it is a treacherous month, it can be springtime or just as cold as winter at its worst. But it is still dull February for a little bit and it agonises on a Monday. I guess it could be a sort of Blue Monday, but it is already getting lighter later outside and it does not feel that bad.

Pas de relâche

C'est le début de la Semaine de Relâche au Québec (j'en ai assez peu conscience ici), c'était la Relâche en Angleterre la semaine dernière (ils font ça en général la dernière semaine de février). Depuis que j'ai quitté le merveilleux monde de l'éducation (sans regret), je ne la vis plus. Ce qui ne me dérange pas du tout ici, pas pour la Relâche d'hiver en tout cas. Pour la Relâche d'automne c'est différent, je prendrais bien une semaine de vacances à marcher dans les bois.

Cela dit, février comme mars sont plutôt gris ici (la photo à gauche a été prise en février 2008, lequel était semblable à celui que l'on a présentement) et sans neige que faire lors de la Relâche? Je me le demande. Je ne tiens pas à ouvrir une page de nostalgie, mais enfant on avait pleins de trucs pour nous rendre actifs, je me rappelle surtout du patinage. Je me verrais bien refaire du patin à glace, mais pas au point de m'ennuyer d'une semaine de congé un mois pareil. Je préfère prendre mes vacances à un autre moment.

Fighting Sunday melancholia

My readers know that I find Sundays boring sometimes. I mean they often make me feel melancholic, moreso at the the last Sunday of a month like this one and when on top of that the day is rainy. But today so far I managed to fight the feeling pretty good, via various means:

-I read a fair deal, mainly Cut Short by Leigh Russell (who has been reading this blog for quite a while now, it was about time I start reading her). Nothing like crime fiction to forget about boredom, especially on a rainy Sunday. It is also good to have time to read (I will go back to it straight after I blog this).  I don't read nearly enough these days.
-I watched a bit of I Claudius on Youtube, which is nice to rediscover. I love British soaps when they are set in Ancient Rome and are murderous enough.
-Have a big hearty breakfast with peanut butter (Skippy as I cannot find Kraft here). Food melancholia is often the worst kind of melancholia, so it is nice to have something that is akin to what I find at home.

It appears that I blog lists these days. And that my posts are a bit trivial.

Mettre à jour le blogroll

Il était temps que je renouvelle mon blogroll. J'y ai ajouté Sur un Boeing Bleu de Mer ainsi que le blogue du Prof Solitaire. Pour une raison qui m'échappe et malheureusement, je n'ai pas réussi à mettre Au bord du Léman. J'espère pouvoir corriger ce problème bientôt. Dans tous les cas, le blogroll prend donc de l'ampleur et il se francise un peu et par ricochet ce blogue également.

Things I learned as an expat

I was reading this post again and it made me think about my journey as an expat and things I learned rom it, things that I did not mention in my first post. (Just an observation: some posts feed other ones). So here are some things I learned in my years living as an expat:

-You start hanging around with other foreigners before hanging around with locals. This was my experience anyway: the Italians first (and to a lesser extend the Greeks) and then the French people.
-There is no Québec diaspora. Which saddens me a bit. I could hang around various communities, but never my own. I guess it is because we do not have a big enough population to create a diaspora, especially here. We are scattered all around the map when we live abroad.
-Spending time with French people has more to do with language than culture. I never felt French with them, but I tremendously enjoy speaking French with native speakers when I can.
-You are rarely exotic when you live abroad. You are foreign, but rarely exotic.Which is better, in a way, because when they think you are exotic locals treat you like a platypus in a zoo: something weird and funny. Exotism is for tourists. Immigrants are foreign. That said, it might be different for Quebeckers living in France.
-Exotism is not something you will experience for long as an expat either. The country you move in quickly ceases to be exotic, no matter how hard was the cultural shock at first.

D'autres recherches qui mènent à ce blogue

Sitemeter (quelque part à votre droite) me fait faire découvrir des choses fascinantes sur le lectorat qui s'aventure ici au hasard des recherches sur Google (ou occasionnellement sur Bing). Alors j'ai décidé de refaire une mise en abyme et de bloguer sur ce blogue. Ce billet est plus précisément un nouveau sur les recherches qui mènent ici:

-"Chanson du Carnaval Souvenir de Chicoutimi" sur Google mène ici. Les billets sur le Carnaval-Souvenir sont particulièrement populaires ces temps-ci de l'année, je reçois beaucoup de visiteurs à le recherche d'information sur le défunt Carnaval. Comme quoi je ne suis pas le seul nostalgique.
-"Omertà" sur Google.com.ph (donc les Philippines) mène ici.
-Googlez Yamachiche et vous finirez par trouver ce billet.
-Et parlant de Yamachiche, j'ai reçu un visiteur de Yamachiche qui est venu sur ce billet en cherchant sur Google Images. Il y a donc des amateurs de furets à Yamachiche.

The world in a train journey

Something that strikes me from time to time and struck me this week: I live far, far from home. This week on the train, among the inspectors who sold me my ticket were some British guys, an Indian guy or two, a black girl from the West Indies (I think, for all I know she might be from London), who makes me feel quite old as she is a good ten years younger than I am (I mean she is the first ticket inspector whom I met who is younger than me) and a South African guy who is always quite friendly, especially when there is someone from the Southern Hemisphere among the passengers. It just feels a bit surreal, a guy from Chicoutimi being in England and seeing all those people, and sharing one thing with them.

Question existentielle (37)

Une question à portée sociologique:

-Somme-nous devenus trop sophistiqués?

My "lazy" English

I had my acting class last night. I will not blog too much about it, promise. Well, anyway I had it and it was, as usual, great. It will be very centered around voice work, which I find a bit sad as I love the physicality of acting, but I do need to work on my voice and well, my accent. I blogged about my accent before. I read a poem twice, the first time was so-so, the second time was great. But I do sound foreign. My teacher said that I had a very good but "lazy" English. It was a back handed compliment, I think. She asked if I spoke French at home (I very rarely do). Anyway, I need to eliminate some parts of my accent, at least for the stage (or, in that case, for recording): the "th" which I pronounce "d" like all Quebeckers, for instance. I could get away with it before as I was playing a Russian character, but this time I will have to play a native English speaker (wish I could play an alienated guy from Chicoutimi). So I need to get something more akin to an English accent, which I never managed to get in more than ten years here. My teacher said that I can easily correct my diction in two months. Interesting challenge, getting rid of my lazy English.

Le bout du monde

"Ici l'eau est profonde
C'est l'eau du bout du monde
Qui se laisse coiffer
Par le gel enneigé"

C'était un des couplets de la chanson-thème du défunt Carnaval-Souvenir de Chicoutimi, sur lequel j'ai déjà blogué ici.  On ne retrouve nulle part sur internet les paroles de la chanson, sauf sur le billet que j'ai écrit en 2009 et ici. Je fais donc dans la préservation d'antiquités et du patrimoine folklorique québécois. C'est quand même dommage qu'une chanson entraînante comme celle-ci et pas dénuée de poésie soit maintenant perdue, ou presque. Mais je m'en rappelle des paroles.

Elle m'est restée en tête parce qu'il fut un temps où le Carnaval-Souvenir était vraiment un gros évènement à Chicoutimi, avant que l'abruti à la mairie ne fasse sombrer sa ville dans l'insignifiance et le ridicule. (Ironique qu'un homme qui glorifie un catholicisme d'un autre âge ait décapité un festival qui célébrait notre passé et nous le faisait connaître.) Mais c'est aussi parce que j'ai toujours eu cette vision du Saguenay en général et de Chicoutimi en particulier (en en très particulier du rond-point où j'ai grandi) de bout du monde. J'ai grandi et j'avais vraiment l'impression de vivre au bout du monde, dans un coin certes développé mais perdu, un îlot de civilisation (c'était avant que Jean Tremblay soit maire) coupé du reste de la civilisation. Quand j'y retourne, j'ai encore un peu cette impression.

Acting again tomorrow

I will most likely not blog tomorrow, as it is the first class of my new acting course. I don't want this blog to be centered around it, I want to to be about various experiences, but this experience is worth blogging about, especially after I have been eagerly waiting for it for so long. I miss everything about acting. I guess I am really hooked. I have been sent links to plays we might perform. Somehow, I think the teacher think I might play His Return by Percival Wilde. I might be wrong and I haven't read the other ones. But I am eager to get started. And I am already thinking about the next step after this. I have no real acting ambitions, not anymore, but I do have dreams that might become projects.

Juste quand je m'ennuyais de St-Hubert...

Et je ne parle pas de ce Saint Hubert là, mais plutôt bien sûr de celui-ci. Enfin, j'apprends qu'il sert des repas trop salés. Stupéfaction, horreur, je ne m'y attendais pas (et vous?). Je me fous un peu des autres: Mikes je n'y vais plus, Pacini j'en pense tout le mal qu'on peut en penser et je ne suis jamais allé dans La Cage aux Sports, parce que pour moi c'est l'archétype du restaurant quétaine. Je la surnomme d'ailleurs La Cage aux Porcs.

Croyez-le ou non, je n'ai pas mangé du St-Hubert depuis 2007! C'était à Dorval en attendant mon vol de correspondance vers Chicoutimi (plus jamais!). L'ennui c'est que c'est le restaurant qui accomode extrêmement mal les végétariens et je mange rarement seul. Il n'y a rien de bien original dans la cuisine de St-Hubert, mais si la cuisine n'est pas typiquement québécoise, la chaîne de restaurants elle l'est. Au moins le sel là bas goûte quelque chose (contrairement à la lasagne en carton de Pacini). Enfin bref, je vais essayer d'y retourner à mon prochain retour au Québec. Je peux me permettre de prendre trop de sel une fois par année.

A black cat for good luck

When I was waiting for the train on my journey home, I saw a black cat in the grass next to the station, he was staring at me with his green eyes, it was borderline hypnotic. I remember this cat, I see him from time to time, always in the same bit of grass. It is the same cat, I think, which I saw after my interview, waiting for the train. He was a bit more shy then, hiding further away in the long grass(maybe he just wanted to enjoy the shade). Now it was different, he was staring at me in right next to the platform. I think he knew I was finding him adorable. I want one at home, a real one, not merely on a piece of paper. I love all kinds of cats, but black ones have such devilish elegance. The one we had in the house in Liverpool was black. If I have one, I will call him Mephisto.

Anyway, when I saw this cat for the first time, it was after the interview where I got my job. So seeing him tonight made me feel cheerful after a rough weekend and an exhausting Monday. So I am glad I saw it. I think whatever people say about black cats, they give me good luck. In any case, I am lucky just to see them. I wish I could have stroked this one.

This picture was taken in Brittany and I was wondering when I could find a good excuse to publish it here. This post was just as good as any.

Un air d'opérette

Mon modeste mais toujours grandissant lectorat sait que je viens de Chicoutimi. Il fut un temps où on avait un Carnaval Souvenir et également, au cours de ce carnaval, la présentation d'une opérette, laquelle était la plupart du temps une oeuvre d'Offenbach. J'ai blogué là dessus une fois, pour ceux qui sont curieux. La première que j'ai vue était Orphée aux Enfers en 1988 et la dernière, en 2003, était La Périchole. Le contraste était saisissant: alors que l'audience était enthousiaste avec Orphée, l'audience de La Périchole l'avait acueillie avec une indifférence polie et les rires étaient discrets et parsemés (on riait d'un bout à l'autre en 1988). C'était triste, parce que je crois que la troupe y avait mis autant de coeur et d'énergie. Enfin, je pense beaucoup à cette époque révolue des opérettes du Carnaval-Souvenir, "le carnaval du bout du monde", alors j'ai pensé mettre ici une air d'Orphée aux Enfers, chanté par Natalie Dessay (qui d'autre?).

Need warming up exercises

I am about to start the week more tired than I ended the last one, for various reasons. The weekend did very little to me. I cannot wait for the acting class to start on Wednesday. I badly need it, for my sanity's sake. I think I mentioned once the warming up exercises we do at the beginning of every class. I think I should do them every evening, after every day of work, good or bad, as it calms me down and fills me up with energy. I don't do sport or much physicala ctivity apart from walking, but these warming up exercises are something totally out there, they have an almost spiritual effect (and I rarely use that word).

Question existentielle (36)

Elle m'est venue je ne sais pas trop pourquoi:

-Quel nom donneriez-vous à un ouragan?

Cultural oblivion

This post is a follow up to that one, and pretty much a rambling post. I am reading One Hand Clapping at the moment, about to finish it actually. It is taking me too long and I should have read it in a weekend. It is nevertheless a thoroughly enjoyable read, very funny yet very bitter. It is this bitterness that got me thinking. The story, set in Brittain of the sixties (but it could almost be today) is about a used car salesman who has little instruction but a photographic memory, which allows him to win a thousand pounds on a TV quizz then a lot of money through betting. Wealthy, he is still unable to appreciate life and modern consumerism make him suicidal. Like for A Clockwork Orange, I have been wondering if the novel was not prophetic: books are not read anymore, great artists are now just names for quizz shows questions, songs are now just stuff for aspiring pop stars in talent shows, education is often devalued, we get lots of wealth, but losing culture. Maybe we are already in a cultural wasteland. I remember how much I felt contented rediscovering stage performances last summer, how much I thought I had missed something for so long, something simple and genuine. I am glad I can at least appreciate it still, I wonder if the stage, like librairies and bookstores, is not in danger of disappearing. Through the laugh I got reading One Hand Clapping, I cannot help but shiver with dread.

Fin de semaine en vinaigre

Je déteste des jours comme celui que je viens de passer: pluvieux, mauvaise nouvelle par la poste (rien de tragique, mais assez emmerdant pour me gâcher ma journée), la température qui ne s'améliore pas, les tâches ménagères à faire, un chocolat chaud dégueulasse dans un café local (comble d'ironie acheté pour me remonter le moral), la température toujours aussi misérable et la désagréable impression que je couve quelque chose (encore une fois, ne vous inquiétez pas trop je sais pertinemment que c'est de l'hypocondrie). Ah oui, et vous ai-je dit qu'il a plu sans cesse? Je suis en général assez peu affecté par la pluie, même ici, mais il y a des jours comme ça où j'ai l'impression que tout me nargue.

Secular? Yeah, right!

"To hell with order, ecclesiastical and civil. To hell with miracles. Miracles? But miracles subverted order, did they not? Nonsense, no: they confirmed it: they kept the people on their knees."
Anthony Burgess, M/F

I quoted it before, and for the same topic. Maybe it is because I blogged about a similar topic in French recently, I don't know. I was just checking about the school I used to work for two years ago, something I do from time to time about old working places, and they labelled themselves as secular. I would have choked myself in my drink had I been drinking. Secular? What a joke! Sure it was not an obscurantist, religious fundamentalist school, but in all honesty there was nothing secular about it. I am not writing this to settle old scores, heck the people I didn't like there don't read this blog and if they ever do, I cannot care less. I had some happy moments there, but I also have many reasons to be bitter about it. I guess I am still bitter and this is why I get irritated when I read something like this.

I mean, how many states schools in this country (and maybe in mine) label themselves as "secular" yet have prayers in assembly? Is there something even remotely secular about it? It didn't give the pupils much of a religious culture, mind you, but that's not the point: when prayer and worship is encouraged, when a vicar o the Church of England can show up and has constitutional right to give speech to the kids, you cannot label your school secular.

Tiens, c'est la pleine lune ce soir

"C'était, dans la nuit brune,
Sur le clocher jauni,
La lune
Comme un point sur un i.

Lune, quel esprit sombre
Promène au bout d'un fil,
Dans l'ombre,
Ta face et ton profil ?"

Je me permets de citer une autre fois le poème de Musset. Et je saisis cette occasion pour mettre une photo prise en même temps que celle-ci. Je suis un peu fatigué de bloguer sur des controverses, alors j'ai pensé écrire un billet sur la lune pour faire changement et parce que j'aime le poème de Musset.