home again...

After a relaxing vacation two weeks ago, I faced a week of busy preparation and then travel. I flew to Burlington, Vermont last Wednesday and then drove to Montreal for meetings Thursday afternoon and Friday morning. I was held up at the border for a while because I didn't have enough information with me explaining my work relationship with our corporate offices. Apparently, they thought I was trying to drive into Canada to work without a permit. Oh well - thirty minutes later and a fax from my company in the hands of the customs agent, I was on my way.

It is strange to me how immediate the feeling of being in a different country washes over a person. Well, at least this person. It is one thing to visit Canada in Sault Saint Marie, it is quite another to drive into Quebec. Everything is immediately in French. My mind starts working on overtime,

"Did I want to take that highway 'Nord' or 'Sud?'"

"Am I following all of the traffic laws here?"



Most of all there is an uneasy feeling of the unfamiliar. A feeling of being in an Eastern Bloc country in the Nineteen Sixties. This feeling mostly comes about because of the road signs that lack words of any kinds. There are just the symbols for 'arret' and 'rendement.' When you are approaching the U.S. border there is only I sign showing an officer at a table indicating that a checkpoint is approaching.

I like being home... I like being back with 'mon amour.' Her signs are easier to read, and are more comforting.

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