I cannot wait to see everyone! It has been seven months since we were last with our families - not the longest time we have gone without seeing them, as when we where living in Sevilla we didn’t go home for ten months - but still, it feels far too long.
We are flying to England this evening!! I am so excited!!
I cannot wait to see everyone! It has been seven months since we were last with our families - not the longest time we have gone without seeing them, as when we where living in Sevilla we didn’t go home for ten months - but still, it feels far too long. When we told people we were moving to Quebec, we were warned time and time again about it being such a strong French-speaking state, and the fact that we didn't speak French (well I don't, T studied it at school to GCSE level). But neither of us have found it to be as bad as everyone made it out to be. Granted, Montreal is a cosmopolitan city; we would not be able to get by as easily in the smaller towns or villages in the Quebec region, I’m quite sure. The majority of people here on the island (the centre of Montreal) speak English as well as French, and switch without a problem between the two. (Oh to be able to that!)
Maybe our ease at getting along with the language barrier also has something to do with having spent the majority of the past five years not understanding the locals at all, and so have become quite apt at getting on with day to day life blagging and realizing the great art of pointing to what you want and using hand and facial gestures in place of words to get by. Whatever the reason, we find the whole language issue not as great of a problem as we had expected it to be. I want to apologise. I was meaning to post the following last week but time ran away with me - as it has a habit of doing, no matter where in the world you are - and before I knew it, my posts and the topic dates were getting in a muddle. I will try my best for this not to happen again, but I cannot promise there will definitely not be any more confusing date mash-ups in the foreseeable future. The reason - or my excuse - for this is that my working days are limited in terms of hours. (Aren't they for everyone I hear you say, and you would be correct). Mine however, are reduced by the ME. The disease means that, at this point in time, my brain only opens for the business of writing, as well as the majority of other activities, between 9-10am and 4-5pm. In that time, I have to cram in any trips outside of the apartment i.e. dancing at the gym, going for a walk, supermarket shopping, meeting someone for coffee, with tasks such as cleaning, washing etc, as well as writing and allowing at least an hour midday for a rest. I tried getting up earlier last week but as lovely as having breakfast with my husband and seeing the early morning sunlight stream through the windows was (I do love the feeling of the fresh new day at that time in the morning before it is tainted by time), the ME did not share my views; and I was left getting through the rest of the day in a zombie-fied state. Occasionally I manage to push the writing to after 5pm, but I cannot do this on a regular basis without experiencing burn out after a couple of days and spending the rest of the week feeling acutely sick and all the other joyful aches and pains that like to join in the party. So, all in all, it is not for an on-time blogger maketh. I am sorry for the often delayed posts, and thank you for baring with me!
Apology over, I better get on and post before yet another day passes... There has been a St. Patrick's Day parade in Montreal since 1824, and thousands of participants take part each year.
'Le week-end ' is French. 'La Fin de Semaine' is Quebecois/Quebec-French (and not Spanish, which I initially thought...) We woke up to sunshine on Saturday morning - quite literally, as the paper blind covering the glass door from our bedroom onto the balcony fell down at 7am, flooding the room with light. For once, Albie was no-where near the trouble...
The blue sky enticed us out of bed with the prospect of a sunshine-filled walk. Over breakfast we pondered where we should go. We are still not too sure which national parks have good walking routes, or areas that would make a scenic wander...all this comes with recommendations from people, and time. The internet can be good, but at other times for looking up things such as this, it can be very confusing and not shed any light on where to go. In the end we settled for a walk up Mount Royal: a walk we like doing and which had the bonus that we didn't have to drive anywhere. Moving around from country to country introduces you to local delicacies, different methods, ways and styles of cooking, new dishes and combinations, and ingredients you have never heard of. It is the same when you go on holiday, but living in a place means you are exposed to this for a longer period of time and can really spend time picking up those recipes embedded in the genes of the local people, handed down from generation to generation. This 'education' in the inventive ways people utilise the ingredients available to them is fantastic, espeically for those really interested in food, such as me.
When I look back on our time in Germany and Spain, my thoughts are filled with memories of the local delicacies; the tastes bringing back so much more than the dish itself: the surroundings, the company, the atmosphere, how I felt at that time. It's exactly the same I guess as those tastes of holidays, not only are you eating something different and new, but when you think back to that dish, you also recall the country, the city or village. You reminisce not only about the taste and the smell of the dish, but the environment you had it, too. Whether it be freshly caught grilled sardines eaten in a beach side cafe in Portugal, a humongous gelato taking the edge off the heat in Rome, or a strawberry-filled waffle eaten in the car, providing new energy mid route from Germany to England; the mention of that food is almost like a photo in the way it brings back to the mind the situation where it was eaten. At the beginning of last week, something strange and unfamiliar happened... I walked the short distance to catch the bus, and was warm at the end of it. I stood waiting for the bus without a hat on or my hood up over my head, and I was not frozen. My one pair of gloves I was wearing sufficed; in fact, my hands were verging on being almost warm (not a common occurrence whatever the time of year!). I no longer needed to hop from one foot to the other in an effort to stop my body from going numb with the cold whilst waiting for the bus to come. I was able to get on the bus without my nose and eyes running, and therefore could actually see what I was doing.
The reason for these unusual occurrences? The temperature outside was... 1 degree! One whole degree above freezing! Before Montreal, I never ever thought such a temperature could ever be classed as warm. Before this winter, 1 degree was a temperature I avoided venturing out in to be honest, but now it feels so pleasant compared to the past few months I just want to go walking in this 'warmth'! |
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December 2015
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