Francophone

It wasn't until I hit the Canadian border that I realized I was actually entering another country. Oh yeah, roaming. Oh yeah, no USD.  Oh yeah, French street signs. 

As I wondered to a free electric festival in downtown with some Quebecers, I realized how French of a provence Quebec is. However, once at the fest, there was a moment when I was in a circle with: a woman from Columbia, a woman from Jordan, many French dudes, a few Quebeccers, and a woman from LA. Then I see a man with a San Jose Sharks hat on, standing on a platform about 10 yards away. Soon after, I see he is wearing a Sharks sweatshirt too. He was asking for me to talk to him. I run up to him and ask him if he's from San Jose. "The East Bay," he responds. Small world.

Francophone or Anglophone wasn't a concept I was too familiar with, although aware of its existence. Now I get it.

I'm in awe of this scenic place, with a canal lined with greenery AND industrial derelick buildings. English and French, cyclists share a smile on the bike path. Regardless, I am feeling a little ashamed to be an "American" though - wishing I had more languages in my tool box.  

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