You can't change your nature, it always comes back at a gallop...
Habits die hard and stick to us even thousands of miles away.
Our French genes continue to betray us even after several years in Quebec
- Treat yourself to the luxury of a good cheese or a good bottle of wine (because it costs you an arm and a leg).
The gastronomic call is stronger than anything at any given moment
- Evenings between French people always end the same way (finally in a world without covid)
Going wild at 3am to wild rhythms while singing (well, rather yelling) to old classics from our youth ranging from "She played the piano standing up" or even "The Midnight Demons" , without forgetting Céline of course to honor our host country 😉
During my years as a shared apartment at the beginning of my expatriation here, we had many evenings in our large apartment, which ended every other time with the police coming to ask us, amused, to turn down the sound, annoying the neighbors.
- “Fuck, fuck off”, “fuck, it’s raining”, “fuck!”, “fuck”…
This pretty word, essential to our vocabulary in good, self-respecting French, has a tough skin. Used to express a plethora of emotions: frustration, anger, joy, etc. It sticks to our skin, it's a bit of our genetic heritage after all.
- In the same vein, the use of "Du coup" in all sauces, may have the gift of annoying certain Quebecers, faque it's painful.
- We tend to to be able to spend hours at the table
To rebuild our lives, to debate on all possible and unimaginable subjects. Besides, even at the table, we only talk about food. Which shows that food still rules our lives.
- We continue to cross between the nails, at the red light
It must be said that they are often very long here and there is little traffic on certain arteries. However, despite the possibility of a fine that can hang over us, this does not dissuade us. At least for me, this is not the case.
For example, I continue to walk with my Parisian gait even when I am not in a particular hurry, slaloming between people on sidewalks that are three times bigger than in France. I can't help it and my impatience often takes over the often ultra-slow pace of the Quebecois.
- You can recognize a French person by their clothing style .
Stan Smiths with skinny jeans?
Bright lipstick? French
An Eastpack backpack? The Quechua range? Accessories, bags, shoes that match each other? Pure French butter.
Women tend to try to dress even at -20 degrees (well not all the time either, comfort is good)
Unlike the Quebecois who tends to prioritize comfort over elegance, with leggings as their favorite outfit, and ballet flats-socks (yes, you read me correctly) when the temperatures become mild. You will have understood that we are far from French fashion.
- Quebecers complain that people come to settle here but that we only stay among French people. . .
It's true, I admit it. But making Quebec friends is a real obstacle course and it can take years before that happens. And then inevitably you end up living here, alone, without landmarks, everything to recreate from scratch. So it's reassuring and easier to create friendships between compatriots.
After all, we have the same humor, the same references (the number of times I felt obliged to laugh in front of only Quebec colleagues who shared a story without understanding the humor behind it...), the same life situations, doubts, etc.
