I feel like I'm living in a foreign land: Bienvenue this. Bienvenue that.
The only time I've stepped onto foreign soil was twenty years ago at a family reunion in British Columbia--if you consider Canada "foreign," that is. The last time that I can remember having a cultural experience was while walking the streets of Chinatown, San Francisco. So, when I say that New England feels like a foreign land, I shouldn't be taken seriously.I'm thirty years old and I've never had a passport. What a sad girl that I am. For this reason, I am determined that when I win the Publishers Clearance House Sweepstakes, you bet yer bottom dollar that I'm gonna take on the world. Leave it up to me to rig the system.
Around my new surroundings, I'm reminded that I may need to start studying French...
Example 1: I've never been anywhere in the United States with road signs that greet me in French. (I'm sure other states that border Canada have them, but hello, remember me? I'm not that well-rounded as a traveler.)Example 2: As I have browsed new radio stations to program into my car, I know at least one radio station with music sung in French. And no, it's not all by Celine Dion.
Example 3: When I visited a Wendy's to treat my kids to a healthy snack of french fries and a Frosty (I was running out of ideas for places with air conditioning, okay?), I sat next to a couple having a conversation in French. Listening to it was so beautiful that it fueled a desire within me to go buy a baguette and some smelly cheese.
Example 4: Last weekend while we were at a beach in southern Maine, I had never seen so many vehicle license plates from Quebec (as well as a few Ontario in the mix). I would've liked sunbathing in the sand listening to somebody tell me romantic things in French, but no. My husband speaks Spanish. Not the sexy kind from Spain--the Argentinian kind. Not that sexy.
While I have yet to apply for a passport, this is all I got. Let's hope my children will be better off than I am. I'll make sure of it.
