So I’m in the airport, my multiple bags are on their way to
the airplane (the extra weight waived through thanks to the nice lady), sipping
on a rather expensive beer while still trying to come to terms with leaving. In
classic Elspeth style I am unable to cry at things that are actually sad, apparently
saving my tears for trivial things like uncontrollable laughing fits and physio
appointments and not understanding card games. The fact that my corona cost 70
cents less than normal because I didn’t have the change is a good feeling, I
probably looked desperate.
Let’s start with April. Ahhh April, a whirlwind of exams,
finishing my project, planning for fieldwork, packing up, moving out, sorting
out modules for next year, hanging out with friends, and not much sleep. The
sun arrived but the huge pile of snow on campus refused to melt for at least
two weeks, partly because the +20 temperatures rapidly dropped to a nifty 10
degrees Celsius as I continued to wear my English-winter-coat as a
Canada-spring-coat. With the end of the semester, my belongings and everything
I have accumulated throughout the year deposited with various accommodating
friends around Montreal, off I trotted to BC…
Four of us and Rosie the truck drove for 6 days across 3
time zones, winding through the boreal forest of Quebec and Ontario, across the
prairies of Manitoba and Saskatchewan where the sky was enormous and constantly
changing, up through the Rockies of British Columbia, over the Georgia strait,
and up to the logging towns of Campbell River and Port McNeill on Vancouver
Island. It was stunning, but alas, we saw not a single moose. NOT ONE. I came
the conclusion that Canadians have eaten them all, and actually it’s all a ruse
to bring in tourists. We did see caribou, golden eagles, bald-headed eagles, various
deer, mountain goats, and many brown bears though. Although the bear spray I
carried with me religiously was never needed, I did merrily talk to myself when
I went for runs just in case one got fresh. Or angry. Either one.
Fieldwork was hard work. I have beefed up for sure. It involved pulling up on the side of the highway (or tentatively using the logging roads avoiding the terrifying logging trucks by trying to understand the island accent through the radio), crashing through almost impenetrable forest while wearing waders and carrying minnow traps and other gear, leaping gracefully between swampy parts of streams to throw the traps in before leaping back to retrieve them later and carrying any stickleback back to the makeshift processing station under a tarpaulin to take photos of them and make fish babies/caviar. Naturally the graceful part was not my forte, and after falling in a few times we invested in some life jackets. I also arranged a code word for “I’m drowning please come help me” as opposed to the familiar splash and cackling laughter after falling in the water, down a hole, or getting stuck in the swamp, which was always hilarious and so difficult to know when it was real. It really made me appreciate how much effort one data point takes, especially since my project used some of the photos the previous year’s fieldwork team took (which was pretty much my life for much of January and February).
I returned to Montreal pretty bruised and bitten, rather
disorientated, and very grubby, yet was welcomed with a cup of tea, catch ups,
a shower, and a bed. I spent an enjoyable day running errands in the sun
wearing the same dress that I wore for my first day in Montreal, running the
same errands in the opposite direction. With everything sorted I spent my last
night in the city watching the sun set from my favourite roof, going to a gig,
trying to find fries, finding fries, trying to find friends, and finding
friends. I had a lovely last day. So much love.
I also returned to the 40th night of thousands of
Montrealers communally banging saucepans in defiance of the new Bill 78. My
time here started with the support workers of McGill striking (which lasted all
semester and my labs were ‘interesting’ without the lab technicians) and continued
throughout my stay. To cut a very long story very short, students from CEGEP
(equivalent to Year 13) and universities across Quebec have been protesting the
planned rise in tuition fees by street marches, boycotting school and picketing
classes since September, but have upped the ante this past semester. After the
annual Anti Police Brutality March became unnecessarily violent as usual (ironic
much!?? I narrowly avoided being kettled in), the student protests also seemed
to turn sour (or the police reacted more strongly perhaps?). Talks between the
student unions and the government remain at a standstill. However, in attempting
to curb the protests the Quebec government quickly passed a bill stating that
gatherings of more than 50 (I think) people counted as a protests and can
therefore be arrested or heavily fined, along with anyone wearing masks, and
also that the police should be informed of the route of any protests. The
initial outrage resulted in the police phonelines jamming because everyone rang
them to tell them their individual route from home to join the protest, a
genius way of mocking the bill. Despite this, the law hasn’t budged, and every
night at 8pm people take to the streets to make an awful lot of noise in the
name of freedom of speech. People who didn’t support the students striking (a
few reasons being that the Quebec student fees are the lowest in Canada, are
much lower than England, and tuition freezes applied to universities elsewhere in
Canada are quickly seeing dilapidated and unsafe buildings…the money must come
from somewhere, jus’ sayin’) are in full support of contending this bill 78,
deemed officially horrific by top judges in North America. Well that story wasn’t
quite as short as I thought, and quite possibly a bit wrong, but I do think it
is valuable to put such issues in perspective.
As ever, it will take some time to adjust to my homeland. I
will miss the bilingual surroundings, the switching languages mid-conversation,
and the funny anglaisms mixed into Quebecois French. I will not miss the
accent. I will miss the people – Canadians, especially the islanders on
Vancouver Island, really are the friendliest people I have ever met. And I will
miss being a foreigner, I had forgotten how much freer I feel when completely
lost and constantly appreciating how different people can be.
Some time later…
I have arrived in England! Hurrah for
roundabouts and fifty pence pieces. I am looking forward to visits and trips,
and am also already planning a return trip to the Americas. I am also SUPER
LOOKING FORWARD to seeing my wonderful family and friends on this side of the
pond. I hope they can help me learn to say trousers and trainers again rather
than pants and sneakers. Tomato tomato.
Bises in the general direction of you wonderful people on both sides of the Atlantic. Do do do come visit J
