Sept 26 2007
It has been a very strange day.
I want to start with a rebuttal that I had been working on. It was all about the rude french man you hear so much about. In the two weeks I was in Quebec I hadn't met him. Everyone I had met had been thoughtful, helpful and genuine. From the woman who brought me coffee that rainy morning, to the gentleman who drove me town when I had a flat tire.
My rebuttal was all about the rude Frenchman you hear so much about and how I travelled high and low through Quebec and never met him well I've deleted that post.
I left Saybec early and was trying to get to New Brunswick. I was travelling through Amqui when I broke a rear spoke. My first thought was great I'm in a town so I can get it fixed. The wheel immediately had a huge wobble in the tire so I got off the bike. A middle aged woman was walking down the street toward me so I said, "Excusa moi sil vous plait." That was as far as I got she threw me the dirtiest look and crossed the street so she didn't have to be near me. OK then. So I carried on down the street and found some work men up on a scaffolding. They were helpful. It turns out I was only two stores away from the shop but here is the kicker. It was in the back of the building and completely unmarked. So the front of the building looked like just a sport clothing store. So with my limited french and their non-existent English I just knew a right at the lights and two houses. So I was actually standing in the parking lot of this building looking around kind of baffled when a guy in a pickup truck showed up. He spoke the most English of anyone in the town that I would meet.
He began apologizing for his countryman saying I had been mislead and he is so embarrassed and if I just get in the pickup with him he will drive me because the bike shop is "way far away." The alarm bells in my head immediately went into four alarm blaze mode something about this guy wasn't ringing true. They say language is 20 % verbal and the rest is body language and I truly believe that. The more I insisted I could walk the harder he tried to get me in his vehicle. He finally gave up and left.
After getting two more sets of good directions that I misinterpreted and several blocks of going back and forth I was getting very frustrated with myself, my language skills and my situation. Finally one older guy took pity on me and walked me to the back of the store and into the repair shop. At this point all that I could think about was where the hell creepy guy with the pickup had planned on taking me.
The older gentleman began talking to the man in the shop. He showed him the spoke and I don't know what was said but like I said language is more body language than words and it was clear the owner had no intention of helping me. The old man looked embarrassed I thanked him very much in my poor french and he left. The owner and I then did a series of pantomimes back and forth. He was insistent that I could ride the 100 km to Cambellton and I was insistent that I couldn't. I He kept saying no mechanic. So I asked if I could use his shop as it was pouring rain outside. I received a very firm no. I was outside his shop in the pouring rain with limited tools trying to replace the spoke. I carry three extras. I took the wheel down as much as I could and tried threading it through but it came out a mangled mess. So back into the repair shop I went. I was going to buy every tool I had to to get this thing fixed. He didn't have the tools to sell me but I guess I out stubborned him because it turns there was a mechanic on duty...him. It turns out he spoke a surprising amount of very good English. So me being me I'm making small talk while he's working when he turns to me and said very curtly "I don't speak English." So I shut-up but in my head I thinking not that you can't it's that you don't. He was still repairing the spoke when another gentleman brought his bike into be serviced. No problem just leave it over there. I'm still smiling but inside I was just seething.
So bike finally repaired, two hours later, I was on my way. I had small water bottle in the back pocket of my shirt. It was about two-thirds empty so it was quite light. It was still raining as I rode by a group of men doing construction on a house just at the edge of town. I was bumping along when one of the guys kind of yelled and kind of waved I smiled, waved and carried on. It turns out the small water bottle had fallen out of the back of my shirt and they were trying to tell me about it. One of the guys got down off the roof, got in his car and flagged me down to tell I had lost my water bottle. What a great gesture. Unfortunately he was speaking really fast so I couldn't understand him so I said to him in french that I didn't understand could he please speak slowly. He became very agitated and began to actually speak faster. I put it down to his frustration with the language. He became more and more agitated and then drove away. I shrugged it off. I was still puzzling my way through his original sentence when I reached for my water bottle and clued in to what he had been saying. After dealing with creeping guy and then the arrogance of the bike shop owner I was profoundly grateful for this gesture. I saw this guy put his brakes and turn back around towards me. He drove up beside me. I had my thank-you organized in my head when he started talking again. It turns out he wasn't frustrated with the language, he was disgusted with the fact that I was English. Using a few hand gestures and a couple words of English it seems that I wasn't too beneath him to be well...beneath him. Then when he was done the rest of the crew could have a go at me. I was so shocked that such a thoughtful gesture could turn to one of sexual violence because of the language I spoke it took me a minute to respond. Using a few hand gestures of my own and a few of the words of English I knew he knew I let him know what I thought of his proposal. He just sat there laughing. Funniest thing on earth. That is as close to bear spraying anyone that I have come. But I thought if the police were as bigoted and backward as some the men I had met in town I would be a great-gramma before I was released for harming one of their golden boys. It was the first time on the entire trip that I felt truly and utterly alone. I honestly felt like I had been 'Twilight Zoned' into the Middle East. I never actually felt like he was going to act on his threat. It was done to demoralize and well done I was completely demoralized.
He drove away, still laughing, and I just wanted to go home. I stood there all weepy and then I got pissed right off no way were a bunch of jerks going to make me give up on my dream. That said I rode like hell and just about cried when I got into New Brunswick.
The saddest thing about this is I met so many great and thoughtful people in Qubec and this is the incident that most people (myself included) will remember.
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