Le Temp Fil!

This buddhist business of living in the moment is a crock of crap, as far as I'm concerned. Why enjoy the cool morning breeze and savor rocking in Jacques et Justine's balancoire when I can sit here, in their basement and fret over how little time is left and how much there is still to see and do and what I'll write in this blog today?! I mean, otherwise, I'd just irresponsibly ignore the requests for music, a certain t-shirt logo, the need to prepare a pique-nique for this evening, and all the rest. How do those buddhists EVER get anything done???

OK, I'm over the panic attack, and am keenly aware that you, dear reader, didn't visit to join my pity party. So, for something more substantial...

We've had more adventure this trip than I'll ever be able to recount. Photos WILL find their way into cyberspace, eventually. For now, let's content ourselves with a few Alice Walker-type photos:

Photo #1: Near Vieux Quebec, on Rene Levesque

Coralie is ravishing in her dance costume, on stage with the Cirque de Soleil fire dancer alumni who have hypnotized the crowd with their shamanic undulations and mastery of all things aflame. The pulse of African djembes drives the dancers into a state of delirium. "Our" Coralie is oblivious to everything except those dancing with her. We watch, mesmerized, and I can't help but tear up at the beauty of her sense of abandon.


Photo #2: Parc Bois du Coulonge

Kate is on her bike, ahead of me. The sun throws dappled shadows across our trail, as we head toward the grass, searching for a place to eat our still-warm bagels fresh from the oven at Bagel Traditionnel. She throws back her head and laughs as the sprinklers catch her by surprise. The Saint Lawrence is shimmering. Sailboats dot the shore. People are walking, biking on the new thoroughfare built for the 400th, along Boulevard de Champlain. An older couple take it all in from the gazebo. I've the impression they do this daily; it's only we who come and go, changing the composition.


Photo #3: Au boutique Charlotte, Ile aux Coudres

I'm making the rounds of the boutique, studying the paintings of local artists and reading their stories on the placards placed strategically about. As I round the corner of a bench in the middle of the room, I catch a glimpse of a lovely young woman sitting at the end reading, her long blond hair caught up a la francaise. Within a nanosecond, I realize - it's Kate! My heart catches; she's growing up so fast! I'm savoring every moment of this trip, as protection against too many more of these AHA moments. (Sure, I kid myself!)

Photo #4: Fog and more fog

We're in the car, returning to the island after an amazing meal in Saint-Iranee, further up the coast. It's so foggy I can't see the sides of the road. We're so stuffed we can hardly stay awake, and there's nothing in the world we'd rather do than slip into our sleeping bags and sleep the night away. Suddenly, I make out a sign that reads, "Baie Saint Paul" and I wonder aloud, "Why doesn't the sign tell us how many kilometers we are away from there? Then, we'd have an idea of where we are." (Baie Saint Paul is 20km beyond our turn to get back on the island.) Merde. I see a sign pointing to a favorite camping spot, Le Balcon Vert, and realize we're IN Baie Saint Paul! Nothing to do but laugh, giving over to the caprises of Dame Nature.


There are so many more...