the market.

Today I biked to the market for my organic vegetables. By now, the farmers recognize me, endearingly calling me "La belle fleur." One of them made sure that I got the only red pepper they had. My favourite farmer is a grandfatherly fellow who loves teaching me "real" Quebecois phrases (not that "useless" French they teach at the university! he says.). He sells a lot of exotic vegetables-- every week he has another bizarre vegetable to show me. This week, it was an African cucumber, which looks like a little green, lumpy, spherical-ish thing. I'll miss the market and my new farmer friends when it closes for the winter.

mr. videotron.

It's time for my weekly update on creepy men. Except that-- hallelujah-- I don't have one! That's because last week I met Mr. Videotron. Mr. Videotron is my telephone technician. After a cup of coffee while he hooked up my phone, he asked for my number. I wasn't sure how to respond to that. So I said, "But you already have my number-- you hooked up my telephone." I think this was an awkward point in the conversation. Regardless, we are now on a first-name basis and have had a few more cups of coffee.

elevator man.

I don't know what is up with these French men! I keep meeting creepy people.
Yesterday I had the longest elevator ride of my life, even though it was only for 2 floors. It was me and Mr. Elevator Man. Mr. Elevator Man was more than happy to meet my acquaintance. He told me that he really liked my anglophone accent and my smile. And then he gave me the once over with the creepy kind of smile (Don't worry, mom, I had my mace on me and I know how to punch...). If the French are known for "L'Amour", I must be meeting all the wrong ones!

a strip tease.

It was a Sound of Music moment: a 40 year-old man (with cut-off shorts cut much too short) running over the hills of the Plains of Abraham to greet his ''Belles Fleures''(the beautiful flowers, who,unfortunately, happened to be me and my friend). He was a Quebecois filled with spontaneity and sexuality. He invited us to his apartment to give us a drink and a strip tease, giving us detailed descriptions about his anatomy-- much more than I ever wanted to know. It was one of the more awkward moments of my life.

Besides our stripper friend, c'est la vie en rose ici. I think that's an expression meaning that life is pretty darn good. Classes for 4 hours per day without homework gives me more time than I know what to do with!