Autumn starting?

The picture at your right was taken a year ago, and about a month later than it is now, but I thought it fitted the subject matter of this post, which is a follow up to the post I blogged yesterday. I thought I needed to inform my modest readership of the development of yesterday's forecasts. It did rain today, although not nearly as much as I had feared. In fact, I remained dry all day. The heavy showers people dreaded was one short lived heavy shower. All the same, with the rain and the clouds came a good drop of temperature, and when I walked to buy my lunch I felt a chill that was pleasantly reassuring. It really felt like autumn was settling in. It got warmer at the end of the day when I left work, but the air was still cool and as the evening went on it slowly became cooler. In sum, the temperature today was typically autumnal, or to be precise typical of a September day. This is how I remember September to be.

Du rhum, des femmes, etc.

Vous connaissez le reste. Je suis certain que vous connaissez le reste. Comme le dit la chanson que je télécharge ici: "Tu connais la chanson". Je ne connais qu'une seule chanson du groupe breton Soldat Louis, mais je crois que c'est celle qu'un buveur invétéré de bière (ou de rhum). Enfin, c'est une grande chanson à boire, paillarde à souhait. J'écoute cette chanson assez souvent le vendredi soir, c'est une chanson de beuverie incontournable. Je bois très peu de rhum, mais je suis un fervent buveur de bière, alors elle me parle beaucoup.

Waiting for autumn to bloom

I took this picture in the nearby Anglican church, on a Sunday where there was an exhibition of various paintings and drawings. It is a dreadfully poor picture, taken from my phone, but I love the painting so much I have decided to forget about my poor photographic skills and upload it here. It shows very well an ideal autumn day, when the season is in full bloom: cool, dry, sunny and all in fiery colours. A darn shame I could not frame it properly.

Since the beginning of September, there has been an early Indian summer. It has been hot, sunny and more summery than it was at the end of August. I want to go back to the temperature we had a few weeks ago, when there was a slight chill in the air. People are quite happy about it, but I feel more like summer is overstaying its welcome. I need cooler temperature, the comfort of warm clothes and the fire of the autumn colours. It should start tomorrow, as heavy showers are being forecast, which will cool down the temperature. Even tonight, the temperature dropped a bit. I am not too keen on the rain, but if it brings the season to start properly, and if the colours follow, I am looking forward to it.

Des vacances en octobre

Après avoir travaillé tout l'été (je me sens d'ailleurs un peu fourmi parfois), j'ai finalement réservé des vacances en octobre. Dans pas si longtemps, donc. Je vais aller à Montréal et au Saguenay. Je n'ai pas vu l'automne québécois depuis 2005, et cette année-là l'automne avait été ordinaire. Le Québec me manque et le voir à cette époque de l'année encore plus, alors je suis impatient.

Tea and survival

Yesterday, there was no more Twinings' Earl Grey, which is what I have usually have with my breakfast. I survive starvation and exhaustion at work with a beaver's diet, but I also need tea for survival. I have one cup in the morning, and it is usually enough to keep me alert for the day, especially if I struggled to sleep the night before. There's free tea at work, a choice of either Earl Grey from Twinings or some banal Tetley or PG Tips tea, which tastes like rough mud. It wakes up all right, but it is much less enjoyable. I prefer Twinings in any case and since their Earl Grey is fancier, I just have it. But there was no Earl Grey, so I had to go to the other kind, whatever it was. In my state, a bit asleep light headed with hunger and in need of caffeine, I threw two bags in the mug. My colleague in charge of supplies laughed about it, I apologize saying I was definitely in need of tea to wake me up if I couldn't count to two. She said: "Oh but have more, it's not rationed." Thankfully it is not. I wonder how I could survive a war if tea and sugar were rationed. I certainly wouldn't be able to go to the front! Anyway, I thought what she said was a great unknown line.

Mafalda, Felipe et l'école

Parce que c'est la rentrée demain pour beaucoup d'écoles ici, parce que l'école vient de commencer au Québec et finalement parce que c'est un gag bien drôle, j'ai décidé de publier sur Vraie Fiction cet autre gag de Mafalda. J'ai déjà blogué sur Mafalda et l'école, notamment ici. Mais ce gag-ci est je pense plus drôle. Felipe illustre parfaitement le sentiment de mélancolie qui s'empare de l'enfant (ou de l'adulte) quand l'école est sur le point de commencer. Enfant, j'étais très Felipe. Une des raisons pour laquelle (lesquelles?) je trouve la lecture de Mafalda cathartique.

Odin and the Devil

It is not Wednesday yet, so not the day of his namesake, but I am sure that my readership will forgive me if I blog about Odin already (and again). My feline friend has been a regular visitor and lodger of the apartment's garden, but he does not show up as often. Often, but not as often. His owners may leave the neighborhood at the end of October, because their landlord suddenly wanted the house back. They are in a tight spot: they need a place for two months that would accept their little menagerie.So I am blogging about Odin more often because I may be without news from him very soon.

As his owners (or his servants, as humans are to cats) have many animals, I keep feeding Odin, who is always hungry. I was giving him his lunch last Saturday when the nurses who work here came by, smiling at me. One said: "Oh you are a devil!" laughing. I replied: "If the nasty evil witch was telling me this, I would really think it's true and be very happy about it." They laughed. I was referring of course to the neighbour who thinks she runs the place and dislikes Odin. She dislikes everyone but herself really, and because of this she is disliked by everyone, renters that she despises and the nurses coming here. My line, however cruel it may have seem, is I think a great unknown line. I do feel some kind of furious joy when I feed Odin, or when I cuddle him when she is around. Satan was often a trickster in folklore and, while I would never play a nasty trick on her, I love to make her furious by welcoming this black cat. She must find me and the other cat lovers devilish enough. There is something devilish in Odin too. He is black of course, but there are shades of red in his fur. Maybe he is a familiar spirit and not the wandering Norse god in disguise. In which case I wonder why the witch has such contempt for him. In any case, I intend to have a few words with her. Not to start a quarrel, but to set things straight.

Crime ignoble

Cette nouvelle régionale m'a scié les james quand je l'ai lue: une mosquée a été vandalisée à Chicoutimi. Chicoutimi, calvaire! Avec du sang de cochon. C'est un crime lâche, ignoble et profondément stupide. Qu'on me comprenne bien: je suis athée et profondément anticlérical. Je trouve que l'islam, tout comme le catholicisme dont je suis issu, est une superstition. Cela dit, la liberté de conscience est pour moi sacrée. D'autant plus que cette mosquée avait une utilité: elle permettait de circonscrire la pratique religieuse dans la sphère privée. Si le maire de Saguenay avait la même décence et pouvait se contenter de prier à l'église. Il faut rendre à César ce qui appartient à César d'ailleurs: pour tout le mal que je pense de lui, Jean Tremblay a condamné le geste sans ambiguité. Tout comme toute la classe politique, d'ailleurs. Maintenant, espérons que les débiles profonds qui ont commis ce crime seront arrêtés.

The train station at the DIY store

This picture was one of the three I took from the train station model featured at the local DIY store. It represents the local train station, now long gone, when there were a few lines going through the city and it was not the dead end it is now. The DIY store is maybe my favourite shop in this town, not because I buy much from them, in fact over the years I bought very little except spider repellant, but because of this miniature train station. They even added historical notes by the model. You go in this section, it is like going in a local museum. I feel guilty when I buy nothing. I could buy a few wagons I guess, as they do sell train models, but what's the point of buying train models without the railway network to make them run? Beside, if I ever buy an electric train, it would be a LGB, like the family one. This is obviously not as impressive as LGB, not nearly as big either, but it is still a nice set.

This model is still, as it is an accurate reproduction of a real station. But the setting is brilliantly life like. There are cattles, various engines, many buildings, human figures too and even at the corner the station hotel, now a pub, the first one you see when you get into town. It is like looking at a still life of another time. And I say still, but sometimes you could almost see them move, or you could imagine them moving anyway. When you know the place as it is now, you can only be impressed at how accurate the reproduction is. If I had enough patience and discipline, I think I could write a story or two inspired by it, by the atmosphere created in it. Maybe I am exaggerating, and I know the picture does not give it justice, but am I at least right saying it is an beautiful display?

Une observation sur les betteraves

Samedi dernier, j'ai mangé un sheperd's pie pour souper, l'équivalent anglais du pâté chinois (en fait le pâté chinois est l'équivalent québécois du sheperd's pie, avec de légères modifications, lisez ce billet pour en savoir plus). Je l'avais acheté chez Cook. C'était délicieux. Cela dit, pour accompagner, j'ai utilisé des betteraves fraîches achetées dans je ne sais plus quelle épicerie. Les Anglais vendent les betteraves parfois en conserve, comme ici, mais plus souvent ils les vendent dans des sacs étanches, pelées comme des carottes. J'ai déjà mangé des betteraves fraîches au Québec dans une salade, j'en avais un meilleur souvenir. C'est pas mangeable, des esties de betteraves épeluchées comme des carottes. C'était donc mon observation gastronomique de la soirée. Les betteraves, mangez-les en conserve.

Labor Day

It struck me today: it is Labor Day in America. Which does not exist here. We had a bank holiday last week, but at the end of August it is not quite the same. I am not even sure I experienced Labor Day as a working man. As a child, yes, the very first holiday we had in the school year, often right after the first day of school had started. This is how I remembered it the most, a day that allowed us to relax a bit before the real start of the year and forget about all our fears. But I think it is truly a holiday to appreciate as a working man (or woman). And I don't think that, back in Québec, I had a job early enough in September to live Labor Day as a working man. I love the idea of a day celebrating the essential contribution of working people in the wealth of a nation. And it just makes sense to have it in September, the start of the working year in many ways. But hey, this Monday was for just a Monday just like every Monday. I hope you enjoyed your Labor Day.

L'été des indiens, déjà?

Je sais que techniquement, l'été indien arrive après le premier gel. Mais depuis le début de septembre, il fait plus chaud que durant les derniers jours d'août. Je n'ai même pas encore le temps de m'acclimater et d'apprécier les journées plus froides qu'on a déjà l'équivalent d'un été indien, sans avoir pu apprécier une vraie période froide. Cela dit, je préfère qu'on ait de la chaleur au début de septembre qu'à la fin. Et je me rappelle l'automne 1989, alors qu'en pleine grève des profs, donc au milieu septembre, il faisait une chaleur estivale. La température a vite baissé. Alors, quel temps fait-il par chez vous? Est-ce aussi l'été des indiens?

September

Happy beginning of September everyone! If this picture looks like one you have seen before on this blog, it is because I have uploaded one very similar last year. It shows apples, crabapples, leaves and flowers from my parents' garden, with apple and crapabble jellies made by them. It is almost recycling a picture, but I wanted to welcome the new month with a relevant picture. For me, September represents the beginning of autumn, which is of course the season of harvest. This basket is a bit of a horn of plenty, so this picture fits this day perfectly. September is also the time where I am slowly getting prepared for Halloween. But I will blog about it more in future posts. Right now, enjoy and celebrate the first day of September.

Fructidor

Je voulais commencer à bloguer aujourd'hui sur le premier septembre, parce qu'on est le premier septembre. Mais je ferai ça pour mon billet en anglais, je crois. Je me suis demandé quel mois et saison l'on était selon le calendrier républicain, sur lequel j'ai blogué le premier jour de Thermidor. Il semblerait que nous soyons en plein milieu de Fructidor, le mois des récoltes, ce qui est approprié, mais que nous sommes toujours en été, ce qui me semble étrange. Fructidor commence en août et se termine le 16 septembre, pour être suivi par cinq ou six jours, les sans-culottides. L'automne commence le 22 septembre, tout comme dans le calendrier "normal". Pour moi, il commence aujourd'hui, alors Fructidor, le mois des récoltes, est donc en automne. Morale de l'histoire: la Révolution française a amené de bien bonnes choses, mais le calendrier révolutionnaire était une bizarrerie inapplicable.

Mrs. Robinson

I thought I would upload something from Simon & Garfunkel. I love The Graduate, I watched it for the first time around this time of year, right before I started the last year of my degree, so here is Mrs. Robinson.

Le sorbier familial

J'ai blogué récemment en anglais sur les sorbiers et sur leurs fruits oranges qui sont une indication du passage de l'été à l'automne. Or, j'ai trouvé dans ma boîte de courriels une photo du sorbier envoyée par mon père en août 2006. Le 14, pour être plus précis. Après des recherches exhaustives, je me suis rendu compte qu'elle n'avait jamais été téléchargée sur Vraie Fiction. Nous sommes aujourd'hui la dernière journée d'août et j'ai pensé que ça faisait sens que la dernière photo publiée ici en août 2013 soit celle-ci. Surtout que déjà l'on sent l'été se faire discret et l'automne à nos portes. J'ai déjà blogué sur ce que ce sorbier représente pour moi. Enfant, il était le centre de bien des jeux. Alors voilà, le sorbier familial, une fois de plus sur ce blogue.

Gentle breeze

It is sunny and windy today. It is not very windy, only a breeze, but a constant one, strong enough to give a slight chill to the air. It is a beautiful time to be outside (so I will not spend much time in here blogging, not until the evening anyway). I wonder if the wind could be strong enough to fly a kite. I actually have one here, but it is not for me: I bought the kite as a birthday gift for my godson and will give him next time I see him. I often worry if he will not find it boring. But growing up, my father used to go with us on windy days to fly his kites. I would do it if I had a kite (for myself I mean) and if I knew the breeze was good enough for it. Maybe it is, but I an no specialist. I have very rarely flew a kite myself. I was more interested about seeing them fly.

Mafalda (parce qu'il faut bien rire)

Je télécharge ici un gag en une planche de Mafalda, juste pour le plaisir. Enfin non, pas seulement pour le plaisir. Parfois, comme maintenant, je me sens un peu misanthrope et l'espèce humaine me décourage. Avec ce qui se passe dans le monde, en Syrie et en Russie particulièrement, je me rappelle Mafalda. L'humour ne change rien, a dit Quino (je paraphrase). N'empêche, l'humour de Mafalda est toujours pertinent, comme je l'ai dit ici. Pertinent parce que toujours contemporain et intelligent. Ce gag en une planche que je viens de télécharger aurait pu être écrit aujourd'hui. L'humour ne change rien, mais quand c'est intelligent c'est profondément cathartique.

The whole menu of Georges Steak House in Chicoutimi

As it is my new tradition, I am plugging a restaurant this Friday, and/or some of its menu, a restaurant I often mentioned in my French posts. Tonight, I am plugging maybe Chicoutimi's most important restaurant: Georges Steak House. Well, its proper, real name is Chez Georges, but since it opened up in 1960 the locals call it Georges Steak House and this is how I usually call it, or the Steak House, as if there was only one in the world. Because it is a steak house, although I usually have the chicken. Georges is the perfect restaurant for fatty, greasy food. You can find its menu here in PDF. You can also find it on the individual mats in the restaurant. There is no English version, not for now, but you don't need to know much French, or any at all, to understand the menu. Of course you can also read about it on TripAdvisor, but the reviews are rather mixed. Maybe you need to be from the place to understand the appeal. I have been to better restaurants, but when it comes to honest, simple cuisine, even though it may be somewhat bland in its simplicity, it is difficult to be better than Georges Steak House.

So if you ever visit Chicoutimi and are hungry (because you need to be hungry to eat at Chez Georges), what would I recommend there? Well, in short, everything. My youngest brother usually has a spaghetti meat sauce (basically spaghetti Bolognese), my other brother PJ has BBQ chicken breast I think, or something. We rarely change what we order. My parents are more adventurous. I remember sometimes years ago I used to order the Frankfurter sausage or the cocktail of shrimps as a starter. Not anymore, they are too filling. So for the last few years basically I have as a starter an Oriental salad (no idea why it is called Oriental), which is basically iceberg lettuce, one piece of tomato in a dressing that is mainly vinegar and salt. Then as a main meal, I have the chicken, coming with a thick BBQ sauce which is more a gravy, thick fries and coleslaw (!). Then for dessert, I have a slice of Graham cookies custard pie (the Graham cookies is of course the base). Little lesson of Saguenay measures: when it says one slice of pie, it really means one quarter of a pie. Last time I went there with my father, we were two on said slice/quarter and we couldn't finish it. I wrote a French post about it. I enjoyed a lot my last meal there, which was in February 2012 (so long already), but most of my enjoyment may have been pure nostalgia.

Question existentielle (201)

Je marchais ce soir, il y a une heure environ, en passant par un parc pas loin et j'ai entendu des adolescents parler. Je me rappelle que j'ai passé beaucoup de mon adolescence dans un parc. Il m'est donc venu en tête cette question existentielle:

-Qu'est-ce qui attire les adolescents dans les parcs?