6 weeks.

I think I owe it to you guys to write in English this time. I am home from Québec after all.
It feels good to be home. To have my own bed. To be able to eat my own food. Speak my first language. Have internet at home. Know how to do the laundry.

I felt humidity again today for the first time in 6 weeks.
With the St. Lawrence right beside you, you forget that humidity exists, because the fresh breeze from the water blows any trace of it away.

I read a chapter from Jeanne, fille du Roy today. A french novel. I've read the chapter before during Grade 12 French. But this time, I whipped through the pages, understanding so much better the meaning of the words. It was actually amazing. I feel like I've finally reached a level of french where I can do more than get by. Where I can have actual conversations, with old folks from an old folk's home no less!
All of the hard work, all of the years of study, all of the painful hours of wondering over the stange grammatical rules, are SO worth it, just when I realize that I can speak the language.

I'm definitely not fluent. Not yet.
But when I found myself in a francophone setting this summer, all of the grammar that I'd studied for so long all the sudden began making sense. And I began using it in an oral setting.
There's nothing cooler than realizing that you suddenly understand tiny little pronouns like "EN" and "DONT", and can use them on a regular basis.

Trois-Pistoles was one of the coolest expierences ever.
I'd do it again.
We'll see.

Enjoy the English.
I've missed you guys.
K