It’s fun traveling in Quebec....cross the border and you are “in” France. The proud history of the Province means that everything is French and you can enjoy a very different culture without crossing the Atlantic.
I took four years of French in high school and one in college. It’s interesting to me just how much of the language is still “lurking” in my brain. We drive along and I can figure out most road signs. We go to the market and I can figure out the labels. And I can have a pretty successful, if rudimentary, conversation with shop keepers, waitresses, campground hosts and friendly citizens interested in meeting Fenway.
So....bonjour! Au revoir! Je suis bien, merci...et vous? Quesque c’est? La addition s’il vous plait. Je suis American et je parle le francaise un peu. Como ca va? Ou est La Boulangerie?
No one can see how I’m spelling any of this...thankfully....and I’m sure the grammar is often incorrect. But it is still fun to make the effort.....and Le Quebecois seem to appreciate my bumbling along in their native tongue......
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