I may not have been in la ville-lumiere, but I saw the city lights. And maybe it was not the dome of the sacre-coeur over lit street-lamps, shying away behind shop houses. But the Franco-Arabic voices that filled the night, I'd imagine to be synonymous to the voices of some places in France.
While I was packing, I had a grade 6 French song called "Natalie au Quebec" stuck in my head. It is no wonder license plates on Quebec cars are sloganized as "Je me souviens". The province is an instrument that triggers memory. Yet, in a strange way, even reminiscence finds its way to be foreign again.
Montreal has been claimed to flair itself as parallel to France. In its curves and textures, architectures and culture. Yet its richness as a "Canadian province" is unique with its own edge. Parhaps, it varies in its geographical landscapes, attitudes and liveliness. Its distinctness, as often pronounced in the legal culture, is present. It is a province with many paradoxes on its own, & I felt it. I encountered what separates it from all of Canada and at the same time what connects it to be part of an inevitable design. It is two sides of a repelling magnet. But the magnet is one and the same.
To be a tourist in my own country. And yet to feel both foreign and a home. Certain corners remained in tact, as if it were the same six years when I last visited.Returning again, only to find myself more aware of different sights and sounds. It was surreal.
Some places capture more of your soul then you'll realize. Like air inhaled, you never really know what will leave or has left, and what parts remain. That is until, you inhale again.
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