Lost in Translation

Growing up in Metro Detroit, I've always taken Canada for granted.  Crossing the Detroit River to Windsor has been a rite of passage for 19 year olds looking for beer for as long as I can remember.  (Yes, they could find other things, but that would be another blog altogether.)  What doesn't come immediately to mind as a Michigander is the fact that Canada is officially bilingual.

This fact was brought to the here-and-now as I stopped at the border between Vermont and the province of Quebec.  "Bonjour, hi," the customs agent said, almost as one word.

Remember I said that Canada is officially bilingual?  Yeah, that's for the English speaking provinces only, evidently.  Quebec has zero signage in English, at least where I was, and a good part of that was travelling along Autoroute 20, a major east-west freeway comparable to a US Interstate.  I was okay reading the French signage -- I took French in junior high and high school -- and my trusty Garmin seemed on target, despite mangling the pronunciations.  But then again, he does that for English words, as well.

My problem came when it was time for a break.  McDonald's is my favorite bathroom stop; the facilities are generally well maintained, and there's hardly a stretch in the US where a Macs is more than 30 miles away.  I stood looking at the menu above the mob of Francophones and panicked.  I couldn't find my favorite grilled chicken sandwich, and for the life of me, I couldn't remember how to say "grilled".  For some reason, I thought that the drive through would be a better choice.

Um, no.

After a barrage of French issued from the speaker, I asked, "Parlez-vous Anglais?  English?"

Awkward pause, and the general idea of "no".

I pushed ahead and tried to order a grilled chicken sandwich with a diet Coke.  I ended up with a crispy chicken sandwich, regular Coke, and french fries which I didn't realize I'd ordered.

The only other time I had to stop in Quebec, I decided to go inside.  It was a quieter place, I used the international spread-your-hands-up-and-down to show a large drink, and tried my french again.  The young cashier smiled and gave me the thumbs up.

So yet again, it's better to talk to the locals face-to-face, even if part of what you say gets lost in translation.