Danielle had discovered a Québécois restaurant chain called Frites Alors! that serves POUTINE! We were overjoyed. Upon arrival at the restaurant, however, there was a handwritten sign on the door saying that they were closed until an undetermined time and that they we would be open again later that night, despite the sign on the door saying that they are open all day. This was a tough blow.
We went to our friend Jeremy's house and ordered pizza as a substitute dinner. He handed us Heineken and I was extremely concerned about this combination, but everything worked out for the best. After denying us poutine, the Universe couldn't really have done anything to upset us. We made to substitute bacon for ham on the pizza and it was almost a "Canadian" pizza and it was delicious.
We entertained ourselves by listening to Canadian country and watching videos like this one:
We were headed to a hockey game between the Lyonnais and a team from Annecy, so to get in the true hockey spirit, we looked up photos of Don Cherry's ridiculous suits and listened to the Hockey Night in Canada theme song as well as Stompin' Tom Connors:
There was a penalty shot in the first four minutes of the game because one of the players widely missed the net and tripped so that he crashed into the boards. He got a penalty shot for that. It was outrageous. I made a game out of it by yelling at the ref for a penalty shot everytime someone fell over (especially if they were nowhere near the net)... so I probably called for about thirty penalty shots. The players were falling down all over the place. And not in the good, they got hit into the boards way.
At half time, we were incredibly amused. They have doughnut sellers walking around the arena with just doughnuts. So I had one of those. Then the "cheerleaders" came out and danced for us. And then some children in sumo wrestling suits chased pucks around.
Danielle wittily said that this is how they play hockey in France. The zamboni was the best part of the game. Good old Canadian inventions! However, the zamboni driver missed sections of the ice so there were strips of ice that hadn't been cleaned up. I was embarassed to learn that there were four Canadian players on the Lyon team, and the captain of the other team was also Canadian. Upon reflection, I'm am no longer that embarassed. These are the players that weren't able to make it into any of the Canadian provincial leagues, the NHL, and none of the major hockey leagues in Europe. There were five of our worst professional players playing for France.... and they were some of the best players on these teams.
By the end of the game, it had become fun just to shout random things and to try to explain to the first-time hockey goers the way things should have played out. The group of French people behind us were enraptured and kept asking "what did she say?!" because I had lapsed into good ol' Canadian English (Canglish, as I sometimes call it). In the end, we left in high spirits because Lyon won (but we all acknowledged that the prettiest play of the night had come from the other team).
On our way out, I had to use the washroom (or toilet, as they call it in British English). On my way downstairs I saw a guy wearing a Sidney Crosby jersey and so I felt compelled to tell him that he was awesome, except I didn't know if he spoke French or English and I didn't know how to say "Nice jersey" in French. I sort of shouted it at him and then ran away. Once in the washroom, I realized that there was no toilet paper. This summer, I did a forty-minute bush-walking lesson with an Australian man in Byron Bay who taught us that if you have to use soft tree-bark or newspaper as toilet paper, you should crumple it. I put this to good use and used my hockey ticket...
We decided that the night shouldn't end there and did a pilgrimmage to a British bar... honouring our British heritage and that sort of thing. We learned important things such as British English is sometimes really dumb. They say things like "dressing gown" rather than "house coat" and half of their place names have superfluous letters. For exemple, Gloucester is pronounced Gloster; Worcestershire is pronounced Worstersha; and Leicester is pronounced Lester. If you didn't want to pronounce the "ces" in the middle, why did you put it in there? I feel for the children in those towns trying to learn to spell their addresses. Nonsensical. I was feeling so patriotic even my cheeks went red.
We carried on at an Irish pub where we sort of made our own dance floor (I am my mother's daughter). We were so happy when they started playing country music and Danielle taught me the two step. It was just excellent. I used all my good moves.
Before bed, we stopped at a convenience store and picked up some sliced kiri cheese (which will never rival Kraft Singles) and made grilled cheese. This was the best decision. There was even ketchup. Mmmmmm.
In the morning (technically still within a EST day), THERE WAS SNOW! And we went for brunch at Frites Alors! and had (faux)poutine!!!
They weren't real cheese curds, but it was delicious and deadly. While we were eating, we were approached by a friendly young woman who asked, in English, if we happened to be Canadian. I was still wearing my Canada sweater, but she said she could tell based on our Olympic Canada mittens. She was from Toronto. I kind of felt like Robin in this episode of How I Met Your Mother. Only I didn't feel tempted to push anyone (just incase they turned out to be French, you know?).
Hi Tess
ReplyDeleteI couldnt figure out how to send a note to you thats because i live in the dark age you know.Tess i am so so proud of you and your accomplishments.You just blow my mind in everything you do.Ilove you and we did miss that special dessert at Christmas.Can hardly wait to see you.I read your blog often
Love and prayers
Uncle Wayne