Stories, etc.

Je me souviens. This is what the Québec license plate says . I remember.  Growing up in central Maine, my family took our first road trip to the city of Québec when I was 14. During early summer, we drove through the verdant cuts of western Maine, on highway 73, and it was a five hour journey. When I got to the city of Quebec, I was flummoxed. I couldn't believe the history, grandeur of buildings such as the Chateau Frontenac, the detailing of the cobblestone streets, the boardwalk, the language immersion, the cafes, the purity of clean Canadian air. It made me happy to see the beauty there, and we actually had the pleasure of staying at the Chateau Frontenac, because the American to Canadian dollar (also called a loony) exchange rate was lopsided towards the U.S., so we could afford to stay there even on a limited budget. Our excitement came to a dull end when we turned on TV and noticed everything was in French. That's when my mom said, "get your tails outside," an