A curious but beautiful thing

So in my last post, I wrote about wanting to write more and how I wanted to make it more of a habit. That day I wrote up this little thing as I observed the coffee shop. Like I said, this town is very diverse, but so are people in general so perhaps I should not have been surprised. Anyway, here it is.

A Curious but Beautiful Thing

Was there a reason for the order of items on the counter? In a place like this, you may think so. Everything seems to be so organized and just right; the colours all coordinate, the floor tile pattern is consistent, the workers all are in their red and black uniforms with “Presse Cafe” embroidered over their hearts. The visitors at the coffee shop are the only inconsistency of the atmosphere. But that is the beauty of it. To an onlooker, the man at the cash seemed to care less about the way the left side of his collar turned up and that a part of his pantleg was tucked into his sock. But, he likely had a son on his way into town for the weekend with his only granddaughter. Of course, he was eager to see her. He was more eager to see his newly born grandson though. He would never tell that to anyone though. But wouldn’t any man feel that way about his name being carried on?

The man next in line could care less about that though. In fact, his future family was the furthest thing from his mind. All he could think about was her. The girl in the red and white striped shirt who he had his arm wrapped around. He watched her carefully as she ordered her coffee in the most particular way. She wanted it extra hot, soy milk not cream, etc. etc. He hardly heard her voice, all he could do was look at her face and the way her eyes scrutinized the order of the items on the counter.

She knew she was overly particular. However, it made little sense in her head as to why the salt shaker was at one end and the pepper grinder at the other. Normally, if you were putting salt on something, you would put pepper on next. She was aware of his eyes on hers, but she cared little. If he wanted her to be the object of his affection, so be it. Her affections lay elsewhere, so she paid no attention to the man whose arm was wrapped around her waist.

One cares little about one thing that another cares much about. This little nugget of truth is a curious (but beautiful) thing about not only the people in a small town coffee shop, but about people – just people.

One of my old flames

I wore a dress today with no sweater and went downtown for the afternoon to read, write, and people-watch. It feels like everyone vacated their homes for the sun today. They are all wanting to experience those last rare summery feelings while they can. That's what I love about this town; if it is a day where you can be outside, they are outside doing something whether it's biking, longboarding, or reading outside the coffee shops. Of course there is the odd person who feels the need to wear a bulky jacket along the boardwalk. The breeze is cool on the water.

I met up with Laura and Sophie at the Presse Cafe this afternoon to do some reading and writing. It is part of my list of year goals. I want to finish "The Making of a Story" by Alice LaPlante and write more. When I was really little, I filled up scribbler after scribbler with stories and stored them in the bottom drawer of my white dresser, the drawer that never seemed to stay on its tracks. As I got older, I upgraded to the computer. Instead of filling up the bottom white drawer with stories, I sat at the computer for hours, typing away and filling up the folder, "Becca's stories". Writing was one of my loves.

I miss that. One of my oldest loves became an old flame.

Somehow, when I got to university, my writing habits changed. Instead of spending hours upon hours writing about princesses, orphans, and families; I wrote analytical essays about poetry, religion, and history. Don't get me wrong, I loved writing those papers. I really did. I will never forget some of those papers and the impact that they had on me, such as my paper on Eli Weisel's "Night" (if you haven't read that book, you must). However, as much as I loved researching and writing papers and will probably always have a need to be writing like that, I do miss fiction writing.

I've started doing it again. I have the time and the desire, so I should. Like many situations in life, if you have a deep-set desire and pulling towards something, sometimes it may be worth the risk. Dedication to writing is a risk - because if that dedication dissolves into nothing, then you are disappointed.

I want my old flame again. I will find it.

Run And Tell That

Today was a grand day. The drive out to Les Hauteurs and Saint-Gabriel is getting more beautiful every day, the leaves are changing and I appreciate that I get to drive a half hour through God's beautiful creation every morning and evening. Today, I actually took a slight detour on the way home and went up one of the mountain roads. I can't wait until all the colours are changed!

I felt so joyful on the drive home. I had Beckah Shae pumping and my windows open. I couldn't help but smile. A lot. God is so good and so faithful in every way.

The only downside to today was that this awful bug I caught will not go away and I was stubborn this morning and went to work anyway. I took some Dayquil and went on my way, but by 4th period, the students were asking me if I was dying because I was coughing so much. It's sad, but I can't be doing that in class. I could hardly explain things to them until my little fit ended. Once it did though, we did some really fun speaking games around the classroom. One of the favourites was a relay race type of game called "Run and tell that" - they loved it! On the way to the buses at the end of the day, one of my students told another teacher, "We didn't do anything all afternoon. We just played games with Miss Becca! It was so fun!" She told me that she asked him if we were speaking English during the activities. He paused "Oh. Yeah, I guess so!"

It made me so happy to hear this! I loved that my students realized learning could be fun; when the bell went at the end of the day, they weren't ready to leave the classroom. They wanted one more round of the game we were playing! We even had other teachers popping their heads into the classroom to see what was up.. "Just wanted to watch for a minute."  

What an encouraging day! And it proves again how God can overcome the bad stuff and provide the strength and whatever else we need in every situation. 

Now, I have a long weekend to curl up, drink tea, eat soup, and get better.

God is so good :)

Three Words of Many

Rimouski weekends are very diverse, quite like this town. I am forever discovering new things about Rimouski and the people here. They love their coffee. Really, there are two coffee shops on Rue St-Germain that are always bustling with caffeine addicts and not to yummy sugary coffees like my white mocha latte (which doesn't exist thus far in Rimouski). But to massive bowls of coffee. Or to little bitty mugs of straight espresso. For any of you fellow Crandallites who are reading, I found a new coffee shop: Presse Cafe. Just imagine a red Jitter Bean. The coffee shops are also competitive; they don't even like you to sit outside the shop for a minute with a cup from another cafe. Like I said, they live for coffee.

This is likely how they are so unbelievably active.

They make me feel lazy. Early on we asked some locals if people in Rimouski do many outdoor activities and we got laughed at. They thrive off of outdoor activities (and coffee). Along the river runs a beautiful boardwalk that is always busy with people walking, running, and biking on it. Oh, the bikes. So many bicycles here. Every other person has a bike and it doesn't even serve as an alternative to their car. It is their car. So I'm currently in a dilemma, do I blend in with the locals and get a little bike for going around town or do I stick with my little car? Obviously I wouldn't use it for going to work. Oh goodness, that would be quite the trek and my calves would probably break out of my skin by the time I arrived at school - the little village I work in has a sign that says "Saint-Gabriel: Le Coeur des Montagnes". Translation: The Heart of the Mountains. Enough said.

Like I said, Rimouski people are very active which means that they are also out around town tons. I had been told before I got here that I would start to see people around and recognize their faces. For some reason I doubted that this actually happened. But it does! I have seen a few examples of this already.. like this afternoon I was at the corner of Cathedrale and St-Germain when I saw a couple crossing the street that I had seen at the Brulerie earlier this week. Then later on today I saw them at Wal-mart! Another example actually happened earlier in September. My friend Emily and I visited an apartment we had seen an ad for and the girl who showed us the apartment was at the Jazz festival that weekend AND we saw her at La Creperie Chignon (a crepe restaurant that had my mouth watering for the rest of the day and apparently two weeks later too).

Rimouski: coffee, activity, and familiarity. Three words of many that I can describe Rimouski as.

The Great Church Hunt

Today I woke up with full intentions of finding a church to attend, I had several addresses of churches I had found online and was hopeful. I went to my friend Laura's place in the afternoon to drop off the meat pie and English muffins she had left in my car and stayed for a tea. I explained to her my dilemma of not being able to find a protestant church in Rimouski. I knew that this would be a challenge but didn't realize just how hard that would be. We did some googling and found a few addresses and she graciously offered to join me on my hunt so that I didn't have to go alone.

So the first place we went to was a big old church near Pointe-au-Pere, a small community on the outskirts of Rimouski. We drove over what we thought was the entry, turns out we drove right over the sidewalk into the parking lot - my car handled it quite well. We pulled up to the front of the church and there was a big for sale sign which made both of us sad. Unfortunately, a lot of the churches in Quebec are dying out.

The second place we went to must have a secret entrance like Platform 9 3/4. We had the address right as far as we could tell. The address was 800 Boul. Sainte-Anne; we found 796 and 822 but no 800 (unless it is like Kings Station and I have to run at a wall or something). I was very confused to say the least and was a bit disappointed, it was the one that looked most promising. We even called the phone number listed on their website and couldn't seem to make it go through. So we moved on.

We found four other protestant churches that I thought would be promising. Unfortunately, no. But that is okay.  I believe that the second place exists and for some reason I feel drawn to it but I have to find it first! I must be patient, but to be honest, it is a little difficult. I am so antsy to start going to church, to worship in a room of believers, and to meet more people in Rimouski! God will provide though. I'm sure. 

I'm finishing this post a day later because when I was writing it the first time (on Sunday) I felt very discouraged and frustrated. But after prayers from some lovelies back home and some of my own thinking and praying, I am sure that a lovely church is around the corner ready to welcome me into their family!

Kadoozled

I have just discovered something unbelievable in my life. It confuses me, astonishes me, and kadoozles me. Okay, so kadoozle is a word I made up, but believe me - it could be another synonym for confuse. The thing that kadoozles me is this: I have only been in Quebec for thirteen days. And only ten in Rimouski, people. That is nothing in the realms of life I once knew so well. In those realms, ten days flew by as well but with not nearly as much kadoozling elements. Let me explain what I mean in simple and summarized terms. You will notice that I like lists by the way, especially when it is almost midnight and my little brain is tired. Mountains and the French language do that to me. Here are the kadoozling elements of the last 13 days:

1. I said "good-bye/see you later" to a multitude of people which in itself is quite the task. Even on the trip to Quebec City, the farewells didn't end. For the travel, my friend Katie joined me in my cramped little Accent (still unnamed in case anyone has a brilliant suggestion). Along the way, we stopped at my brother and sister-in-law's house for the night and said good-bye to Tiffany and my nephew in the morning. Then the farewell to Katie after we had been in Quebec for a few days. Like I said, kadoozling  that so many farewells can happen in such a short amount of time.

2. Friendships were made with people from all across Canada during the training sessions. We made up our own languages together, sang in the streets together, saw fireworks, saw a Cirque du Soleil show, and even got hit on by break dancers.

3. I was so nervous about meeting people here in Rimouski and making friends. But my nerves and anxious feelings have completely dissipated as I get to know some really great people here. 

4. I have learned what to say in French, what not to say in French, and words in English that are not socially acceptable, but are in French. I know, kadoozling. For example, the f-bomb in most anglophone parts of Canada is generally not an okay thing, in French it just means to be "mixed up". 

5. In the past thirteen days, I have slept in six beds. Yes, six. Now, before you get all worked up about this and start forming ideas about me, I will explain. I slept in my own bed, then in the guest bed at Tiffany's, then  in one of the beds in Katie's hotel room, then the one in mine, and then in the bed at Helene and Andre's house; finally two nights ago, I have settled into my apartment and my own bed. SIX different beds.

6. I teach at two schools in remote mountain villages. This sounds very primitive and I don't mean for it to. They are very nice schools, but the commute out is very upwards in parts.

7. I have had some down days where I was kadoozled by the funk I was in. This was due to the lack of a permanent address and all of the challenging transitions. But with prayer and some good ol Psalms, God got me out of the funk.

Anywho, that is probably enough for tonight. I feel like I have a collection of more tales up somewhere in my  tired brain, but I'll save them for a more alert day.

Take care. Be happy. And keep checking in.