Museuming

Whew! I just barely made it back from the Musée McCord before the skies ripped open and rain started pouring. This museum is great: it currently has an exhibition on women's fashion in Montréal from the 19th century to the present, along with their permanent collection on the history of Montréal. I was a bit miffed that the inclusion of the Iroquois and the Hochelaga is kind of an after thought, but this is definitely one of those look-at-how-great-this-city's-history-is museum. I mean, I guess most museums are like that, but seeing how they talked a lot about diversity I thought they should have more space devoted to the native residents. Including one huge totem pole (I don't think it was a totem pole per se, but it was a definite native pole) does not make up for the lack of inclusion. The tour guide was terriffic; she was so sweet. But four days into French 1, I was only able to understand 20% tops - which is to be expected - but my brain gets tired after two hours of it, especially after three hours of it in the morning. I wish I would have had more time to read the plaques in English to get the full story instead of approximating from faux-french knowledge and my own previous knowledge (the history section of the Lonely Planet guide). But once the tour was over, my feet hurt, and I had to get away.

I know I already blogged about this - and I understand I am not a great human being, so please bear with me - but the lady from my French class was on the tour, and even though she kept mostly quiet, when she speaks French (she's a native Spanish speaker like moi) what comes out is neither French nor Spanish nor English. And halfway through the sentence she gives up on French altogether and switches to Spanish, which the quebecois don't really know, leaving them to pick up the slack. I know I'm hating, I know, but hey, anyone who reads this should know that I like to talk trash. So there. Je suis désolé, though not really.

Speaking of talking trash, it's amazing how much of a bonding experience it is to talk trash with people. I went to lunch with a classmate who proceeded to trash the teacher - I agree with the substance of her comments, but since I like my paresseux approach to class, I's all good. Of course, the outcome is that now we're kind of friendly. C'est la vie!

Today is my first day of actual homework: I have to write up a recipe in French. The irony is that I have assigned this very same task often when I have taught Spanish class. Tee-hee. I hope it doesn't beaucoup suck...seeing how I will probably do it at midnight.

Hope all is well with all! Bon journée!