I can still remember arriving here, seeing the bridge loom out of the misty greyness like the animated skeleton of an ancient dragon, twisting towards the shore, head down, waiting for me to ride on its smooth, narrow spine. I remember the wash of excessive rain and fog as I marveled at the names 'Crapaud' and 'Souris', wondering which Acadian was to blame for the Francophone joke. I have since been educated on the matter, don't worry!
Since I have arrived, I have to say that there are a few things I have noticed that I have to note. No, this is very far from an anti-Islander rant, this is just a notes of things that have tickled me in the past twelve months.
The first is the fixation of food, particularly the potluck. I must confess that I have never been to an open potluck back home, however, I am not certain if they happened on such a frequency as they do here. It is the funeral potluck that has marveled me the most. When I was first asked by a congregation member to help for an upcoming potluck, I agreed, and when I asked what the occasion was, she replied '(individual's name)'s funeral.'
I was floored! After burying the deceased, the party of mourners get together and break bread (or to be more accurate, snag Nanaimo bars, pasta salad and sandwich quarters) made by members of the congregation, grab some coffee or juice, and regale colorful anecdotes about the deceased, as well as catch up on interesting news and the odd tidbit of gossip. Gaspesians, correct me if I'm wrong, but I've never been to a potluck after a funeral back home. Does anyone do it? My inner coffee enthusiast and chocoholic is amused and delighted on the idea of potlucks after a funeral, but the concept still seems foreign.
One thing that Islanders do have in common is the small-town maritimer vibe. For example, if I say 'Fournier' to someone back home, they could almost picture the details of the family that almost every Fournier possesses. The same goes with, again, another example, with 'Gallant'. There is a specific notoriety that certain names and families have. The same can be said for the pride that comes with people that are born and raised as Islanders.
One dish that I miss the most: poutine. If it is made with grated mozzarella, it is counterfeit! You need the squeaky curds! Kudos, however, on the chocolate covered potato chips. The satisfaction of salt and potato dipped in chocolate, perfect whenever you can't decide whether or not you want to snack on chips or chocolate... or for the I'm-not-paleo-for-the-next-20-minutes moments.
Not sure if this next one is something limited to my family/immediate circle back home, but when visiting, I was under the impression that it was rude to continue speaking by the door for any more than five minutes after you are ready to leave. With my experiences in PEI, on the other hand, it is not uncommon for us to stay by the door and elaborate on conversational highlights of the visitation period. Although it is a minor detail, it is one that has drawn a bit of perplexity from my fiance.
Essentially, I have enjoyed my Island experience. I am tickled by the differences, and comforted by the similarities. The soil is red, the sand is soft, and the salt air is just as strong as it was back home. I wouldn't be surprised if I forgo my paleo ways for about twenty minutes sometime tomorrow afternoon...
