Bonjour!
Having recently returned from a business trip to Montreal in the province of Quebec, Canada I began to experience and realize again some things that I had known since I lived in Europe during Middle School and High School.
I began to recognize again that there is a vast difference between focusing on Having it All and focusing on Quality of Life. I was not gone long. Just about four days total. But it does not take a long time to recognize that sometimes other people have it right.
Upon arrival back in the US it had hit me like a brick. People in this country seem to be mostly about "Having it All" while those in other places seem more about "Quality of Life". Let me take you on a bit of my journey of discovery. Be patient, I will make a point eventually. Anyway I need a bit of catharsis.
The journey began with an extremely early morning flight. I was very tired as I traveled out of the country for the first time in about ten years. (I had gone to Montreal for a conference in 2004). Flights were on time and the rides were smooth, but I could not seem to get rested. I was anxious and excited. I love seeing other places and traveling. (This is part of why I love what I do). It was generally a cold and dreary morning though.
I arrived at Trudeau Airport in Montreal, having watched as we flew in over the island in the St Laurence Seaway. There was snow on the rooftops. Not helping my mood. I made y way to customs and that is where my experience that this trip would be different really began. I gave my passport and customs form to the gal. She then proceeded to give me the third degree about needing a work permit for my training. I panicked slightly. Did I need a work permit? Could I not enter Canada? Would I end up like Tom Hanks in that movie where he has to live in an airport, stuck between countries? I was tired and that did not help. I had given the young lady the honest answer--I was there to do training. I was not there to steal jobs or cause a conflict between the US and Canada over economics. My client is an American company that just happens to have an office in Montreal that needs ITIL training.
I convinced her I did not need a work permit (even though she did not seem thoroughly convinced). I went and exchanged some money (and got less than I anticipated due to fees and the weak US dollar). I was now in French speaking Canada. I got a taxi and went to my hotel downtown. On the way out of the airport I saw a sign for "Avenue Cardinal". Now that was encouraging. My mood brightened slightly.
Now the Hotel St Paul is a nice hotel--if you like a hotel that was designed by Ikea and played the eighties post-modern jazz fusion group Engima incessantly. This kind of hotel is not my thing. It is trendy, and chic and hip and fashionable--and made for Europeans and twenty-somethings-of which I am neither. I checked in, got my room key and head behind the curtains where the elevators were located. Up to floor seven. The doors opened and stepped into a dimly lit hallway with stark walls and no markings that I could see (I later saw on the wall near the floor). I looked around. The doors to the rooms each had a dim red light over the entrance for ambiance and mood (my mood was tired and irritated so this was not helping). An employee helped me find my room. I entered and put the key in the box to activate the lights (again a fancy European thing). My room looked as if it had fallen out of a Paris art gallery. Everything was white and black and chrome and glass. I felt very out of sorts. I was once again tired, hungry and just feeling very discombobulated.
One of my goals in arriving early was to explore the Old City of Montreal. The Cardinal family originates form the city (we were actually some of the earliest settlers) Our name derives from the French version "Cardinault". So I pulled out my map and headed out. I first went to find my client's location since I would have to walk there each day (no rental car). It was cold and windy and a few snow flakes were falling. I found the client's locale and headed towards the history museum.
As I walked my mood headed downwards. The city was basically a ghost town. Few people or vehicles moved. The side streets are old and the buildings close together. I was feeling a bit claustrophobic, which does not effect me most of the time. Not much was open. I was not sure about going into any of the open bistros or shops, because my French is very limited. I was worn down and hungry. It was all feeling so foreign to me.
I had lived in Europe for about 4 years with my Dad, stepmother and sisters when I was a teen. I was a savvy American traveler. But that was over 25 years ago. Right now I was just very out of sorts. I went through the museum (which was quite nice, but did not have enough early history, which is what I sought). I then returned to the hotel. I went into the restaurant and the people seemed to not see me. I finally inquired about dinner and was told it would not be served until 6pm. It was only 3pm. Too tired and cold to go back outside, so I went and took a nap. I came back down at 6pm and was the only one there for dinner. Not unusual since Europeans and trendy people eat dinner late. But I was hungry. I ate a fancy meal of veal medallions. This put me even more out of sorts. I needed comfort food right now, not foo-foo food. But my world was closing in so I went back to my room.
I called Denise. Later she told me she could tell I was out of sorts. I was lonely and tired and not satisfied and even a bit scared and panicky. These are definitely NOT usual for me.
Let's skip ahead. I progressed through the week and became more and more comfortable. I began to use my limited french. I found some recommended eateries and walk through the very old city with more ease and comfort. I was beginning to fit in and settle down. Memories of living in London all those years ago came back. I was once again in my element.
I began to notice the relaxed nature of the people and the town. The politeness of the Canadians and the unhurried existence they lived. I would tell my learners to take ten minutes for a break and they would come back after 15 or 20. This was Montreal-time. No hurry, no worries, just "Quality of Life".
Through my conversations with people in class, watching Quebec-ized version of Cash Cab ("Taxi en Payant") and Deal or No Deal ("Le Bankeur"), looking at signs and newspapers and menus, I began to sense a very different attitude and pace of life. Somehow even though they had transformed American shows to French and had American things and commercialism, it did not seem to fit. It was the wrong speed for a place that is older than anywhere in the US (the French settled New France-Canada- before the British created the Colonies). Those things were fake. They were "stuff", not "quality".
I watched the American election results with dismay (yes, I really am an unapologetic Democrat). But what I really began to notice was the ferocity and killer nature of American politics and life in general. This really hit me on my way back home. I got to the airport and then had my hands swabbed by security, my bag swabbed, my bag completely searched and a small pair of scissors seized. I had carried these in the US for three years and made it to Canada with them. But they could not come back. I again got the third degree through customs (which is SO different than it was 25+ years ago). America has walled itself off from some very valuable insights to be gained from other people and places.
When I arrived in Detroit my first impression was the frenetic and frantic pace of everything and everyone. I went Wendy's for some food. The clerks were shouting and moving like ants during a rain storm. Scurry, move, quick, don't stop, go go go, and on and on. My head spun. I was glad to be going back home. But I also now longed for the slower pace and ease that I had adjusted to in Montreal. Sitting eating my burger and salad it came to me.
America is all about "Having it All" and "Having it Now". Having lived for a better portion of my life with a women who has taught me the value of focusing on comfort and quality, I was quite disappointed in my native land and brethren in citizenship. What do we gain by focusing on things and time? Nothing but stress and anxiety and worry. I had brought those things with me to Montreal, but had jettisoned them.
Even though I knew I could never be truly comfortable in the trendy, chic, fancy hotel I was in, somehow Montreal felt more like the kind of home my soul wants and needs. A place of endless time, long history and a view into the far future. Not a place of "gimme, gimme, gimme" or "mine, mine, mine".
So what is your focus? "Having it ALL, NOW" or "Quality of Life"? I think every American needs to spend time outside the US to appreciate what we lose by being in such a race to have "freedoms". Do these freedoms really bring a better quality of life, or just more stuff? We can be free without having to lose our selves in the process.
I think we can learn huge lessons from our polite, civilized neighbors to the north or overseas. Take a moment in our own lives to examine the pace at which we proceed. Stop to smell the proverbial roses. It will be a lonely, scary and challenging journey at first (as I saw in Montreal). But in the end it will do you a world of good.
