When I Can't Get There

Yes, yes I tell myself I'm very happy for all my friends who are presently in Paris when I'm not. I keep reminding myself that I'm happy for them and not the slightest bit jealous. Because after all, I live in what's known as the Paris of the North. We do have cobblestone streets, croissants and cafes and even a Notre Dame Cathedral. So maybe we don't have the shopping anymore. (I remind myself that even Paris is inundated with chains like the Gap though somehow their Gap has that je ne sais pas flair that the North American ones lack.) And maybe not the fashion--certainly Parisian men would never wear cargo shorts into the city or ever.  But definitely the politics, the petty bureaucracy and the manifestations and the strikes and the politics. Did I mention the politics? While Parisians are getting friendlier in spite of their politics, the Quebecois are not. Ask the former about the latter and you will get a very well enunciated earful. Which is what I hear when I tell them I happen to be from Quebec. But this is home, this is where I come back to. If I really need to, I can just shut my eyes anytime and almost believe I'm in Paris. Almost.