This past weekend, my parents and I went on a mini-road trip to visit a university in Quebec, 8 hours away. We stopped over and spent Saturday in Montreal before continuing onto Sherbrooke, 2 hours east, for Sunday.
Although there was a lot of yelling over how to work the GPS, we had a good time. The temperature was a frigid -18c! The section of my knees that weren’t covered by my parka or boots almost froze off. It rarely gets that cold here, and it’s usually accompanied by an “extreme cold alert” which is all the more reason to stay home.
My mom re-lived her Expo ’67 memories, I practiced some more French pleasantries (busted out “bonne nuit” and had a butchered conversation with a francophone at a gas station because the pump wasn’t working), and my dad tried hard to not get too mad at the abundance of French TV stations.
We stopped for lunch in a little cafe in Old Montreal. I was all prepared to order my delicious poutine in French, but then I saw our waitress tell a group of tourists she only spoke English. Oh well, I tried.
In other news, today I received acceptance from Glendon Campus, York University. Although I still have no clue what to call it (Glendon College? York University’s Glendon Campus?), it’s a bilingual university that I’ve been waiting on a response from since November! Success!