Dad couldn’t start the car again yesterday. It’s like, every third day it won’t start. Mom says it’s an old banger that should never have been taken on such a long trip but my guess is that it is because a huge cloud of blackflies got into the engine and mucked it all up. When he can’t get it started, Dad gets quite active. I sit in my window seat, pretending to read but really watching him through the window. To see him thrash around and hit the hood with his fist and yell at the engine is exciting. You never know what he’s going to do next. When it finally gets working again, usually because someone comes by and asks to have a look at it, he drives off as if nothing has happened, never even mentioning it.
As soon as we crossed the border into Quebec, Dad tried to speak French at a restaurant. “Icky garkon”, he said, snapping his fingers at the waiter. I could have just died of mortification. I hid my face and hope that waiter guy never sees us again. Why does Dad even try? At least Mom doesn’t pretend to know any French, which surprised me until she told us why. “What do you want to go trying to speak another language for?” she asks. “English is perfectly good. Don’t tell me those Frenchies don’t understand us.” I can’t wait to try the French I am learning at school, but I sure hope I don’t sound like Dad does or I’d die of shame.
We are in Montreal right now which comes from the words Mount Royal. It’s bigger than Toronto and ever so much nicer. I don’t know why exactly, but it is. We went to the old part of the city and I just fell in love with it. The streets have cobblestones and the buildings are delicate with spiral ironwork stairs. I sat by myself in a pretty little church and just looked at the light coming in the window, but when I told Mom later what I had done this morning she said that was a useless way to spend time and what has the church ever done except take people’s money and tell people what to do with their lives. I should have known better than to tell her.
After lunch Mom and Dad said they had to go off somewhere on their own and we could all go off on our own too. Sidney and Sam wanted to come with me. In some ways I don’t like it ‘cause I prefer to wander by myself but in other ways I’m really flattered. I know it’s only because I can figure out maps and stuff and never get lost. But I hate always having to go where they want to go. Sidney just wants to go into shops to buy make-up and Sam wants to go and run around in a park. I want to walk along the streets and look at the buildings and imagine what it must be like to live in them, but in the end Mom said I should suck it up and stick with my sisters. Just because Sidney is the eldest and responsible for our safety and because Sam is the youngest and has to be looked after. Apparently being in the middle means you are not responsible nor worth looking after.
I thought about getting them lost, but of course I didn't.
The worst bit of the afternoon was at this café where we ordered a snack in French. The waiter seemed really nice and patient. Sam hasn’t had any French in school yet so mostly just pointed and said ‘merci beaucoup’, although from her it sounded like ‘mercy bouquet’. Sidney was really good actually and got us all the kind of pop we wanted. I tried to order some cake for myself but the waiter obviously didn’t catch what I wanted so I had to point it out on the menu. He smiled, and as soon as he left Sidney burst out laughing and said in a really loud voice that I’d ordered ‘earmuffs’. I could feel myself get hot and told her she was lying and just making fun of me but then the waiter came by with this huge grin and a plate with lettuce and this pair of blue earmuffs on top. I went bright red and started to well up while Sidney and Sam snorted, but the waiter must have been sorry to have made fun of my French because he immediately brought me this huge piece of chocolate cake for free. Not for the others. Just for Me. I shared it with Sidney and Sam just to show them I know how to be magnanimous.
When we were all together again I suggested that tomorrow we go to see the Expo '67 grounds because I thought we should honour something that celebrated Canada’s 100th birthday while we were here, but Dad said it was too expensive and Mom said the people in Quebec want to leave Canada and why should we support an exhibition put on as a fake show of being united and that awful Trudeau man and his ‘Official Languages Act’ really mucked things up even if he is kind of sexy and he just married someone from our city. Well, nearly our city. North Vancouver, but it’s the same thing really.
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