It’s hard to believe it, but I am officially in my last week of French camp! It’s weird how not excited I was to come — Not because I didn’t want to improve my French or because I didn’t want to see Québec but because of all the drama and lack of organization surrounding this trip — and now it’s almost over. I’m talking single digits here, people. I am one normal day of classes, one standardized test, one oral exam, and one written final exam away from finishing my minor.
That just made me feel old.
We went to Tadoussac this weekend to whale watch, and it was amazing! The weather was perfect, and I got to see lots of whales. The town of Tadoussac is perfect — it’s exactly how a small town on the water should be. I knocked out a good portion of my souvenir shopping at a cute little boutique, and I’ll finish the rest in town soon … well, obviously.
This adventure in Québec has taught me a lot of things, the majority of which I will most likely detail in this very blog at a later day, but the most evident thing at the moment is that I wish I could be more tolerant of people’s stupidity or ignorance or senses of humor that aren’t funny. I am trying, but there has been little success so far. I guess five weeks in a foreign country hasn’t changed me too much. No matter what country I am in or what language I speak, I will always hate stupid people … and people who try too hard to be funny.
Oh … I have an awkward story to recount. Each Friday, l’École de Langue Française et de Culture Québécoise throws parties for us — a welcome party, a circus-themed party, a traditionally Québécois party, etc. After last week’s soirée québécoise, a few of my friends and I went out to this sketchy little bar that’s close to the school. We were sitting at a table with a bunch of other French campers, and there was a guy sitting across from me. He’s in a different group than I am, and I haven’t ever really talked to him, and I am actually pretty sure he is a “non-traditional student” — aka adult learner — and he had the book of songs available for karaoke in his hands. (That’s right — the local sketch bar includes French and English songs for karaoke, not to mention a hot tub. Classy.) He continued to keep the book in his hands, and he kind of leaned across the table — book still in hands — and asked, «Est-ce que tu veux danser avec moi?» (“Would you like to dance with me?”) Because it was ridiculously loud, I couldn’t really hear the question, and because he had the the karaoke book in his hands, I thought he asked, «Est-ce que tu veux chanter avec moi?» (“Would you like to sing with me?”) And because I do not sing, especially not with creepy adult learners, I said, «Nooooooon, merci» exactly like that and continued talking to my friend … only to realize about two seconds later that he had said danser, not chanter. I felt a little bit like a mean girl after that, but whatever … I cannot be held responsible for the loudness of the bar.
It would figure that the one person who has shown even the most remote bit of interest in me would be an adult learner, though.
