Tuesday, August 9

At dinner this evening I informed my father that I was planning on taking a month next summer to do an intensive French course in Quebec (fully funded by the Canadian government). I have always wanted to become more functional in the language, going past the basics learned in my mandatory grade four to nine French class education.

My dad's reaction was typical stubborn father. Having French is a waste, he says stating that the only language worth learning is Cantonese.

I remind him that I am not planning on being the CEO of an international company; rather I want to be active in Canadian society and culture. As someone with such a lust for Canadian Content I feel like an imposter without having French.

But then the conversation turned into a huge hidden-political-agenda and economic discussion paired with a debate on provincal funding and emigration. Somehow Montreal musicians even became part of the whole fight. Impressive segues indeed.

Dad! I just want to be bilingual so I can have access to more jobs! I can't be appointed as the next Minister of Herritage or Governor General if I don't speak french. (Though I am sure my life so far has already nulled any future political chances.)

Ideally I would just take the language and move to Paris for the purpose of creating an absynthe-infused 1920s Hemingway/Fitzgerald writer lifestyle.