Aging
“Dying, what a great deal” But growing old, oh, growing old” Brel didn't have the chance to grow old; tobacco abuse took its toll. I smoked, reasonably I would say, and I'm in good shape at 70, unlike my relatives who were once heavy smokers and who, like their smoke, have sadly vanished forever. My view of old age is heavily influenced by that of my parents—which is to be expected, you might say, as genetics plays a dominant role in aging, and I've witnessed this long pr
Georgetown, living together in a historic place
Penang is one of those industrial cities in Asia where microprocessors and other components are assembled, providing its residents with a standard of living similar to our own. The high-rise apartment buildings and modern vehicles attest to this. I would have loved to see these much-talked-about factories up close, but despite my efforts, no opportunity arose. In contrast, Georgetown, the old Penang, is well-preserved, vibrant, and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Malaysians, Ch
To be there, present
Since my departure, a phenomenon has amazed me daily, and explaining it is not simple because it might seem like a personal bias. A brief digression to explain. Back when I was the director of a CPE (early childhood centre), one of my pleasures was attending the annual conference of the American NAEYC (National Association for the Education of Young Children). And yes, our Quebec system is much more inspired by the American approach than the French one, except, of course, w
Le jardin botanique de Kuala Lumpur
La ville est étouffante, chaude, bruyante. Son jardin botanique est un oasis où j’ai passé une journée
Urban Skechers of Penang
By chance, I arrived in Penang at the end of the cultural festival celebrating the recognition of its historic district as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Several establishments are open to the public for the occasion. The local Urban Skechers took advantage of it, and so did I. It's worth noting that a similar group exists in Montreal.
The wind in the sail
While many women in Kuala Lumpur wear headscarves, in the provinces they practically all do, often a light veil, but a veil nonetheless. So I wasn't surprised to find a woman wearing a headscarf working at the glamping site where I'd booked my accommodation for the week. But imagine my surprise when I heard her speaking impeccable French. Glad to be using my language, which I'd neglected these past few weeks, we struck up a long conversation. I. arrived in France from Morocco
Carbon footprint and mass tourism
Going around the world isn't great for my carbon footprint, I admit. While things are pretty good at home thanks to our hydroelectric power and my electric car, here I'm happily contributing to global warming, even though several of my flights are offset. Should I have stayed away? I asked myself the question, but not for very long. Here's my reasoning: I love to travel, and should I deprive myself of that when many countries, Americans first and Canadians second, are draggin
an invitation that cannot be refused
There are two trails that allow you to do a sort of loop around the island where I am. The distances are short, thankfully, because this circuit proved to be exhausting. The heat and humidity (humidity factor 35°C) add to the already challenging terrain. The trail is rudimentary but stands out well from the lush jungle once you find the access point. Luckily, AllTrails exists because signage isn't Malaysians' strong suit; you can even get lost in airports. I ventured out alon
The Pekingese in the rain
A light shower interrupts my stroll through the vast botanical garden. Luckily, a gazebo appears; I walk towards it, and there's a man inside. We strike up a conversation. He's a slender Chinese man, dressed casually or perhaps sportily, who knows? He lives in Beijing and turns out to be very talkative and expressive. His English has a strong accent that I have trouble following. After each comment, he bursts out laughing. He's here for the julienne fruit season; I have no id
The reader
I was taking a rehydration break, a bit longer than the ones I saw during the World Cup, comfortably seated on a promontory in the modern sculpture section of the Kuala Lumpur Botanical Garden. A welcome break after walking in the sweltering, humid heat. Lower down in the shade, comfortably seated on a backless bench, a young woman from the Middle East was, unusually, reading a book. She was settled in, her bag on one side, a water bottle on the other, book in hand, head bent
Traveling is meeting people
Traveling is also about meeting other travelers, connecting with people from faraway places who bring us closer to the inaccessible. In the small group visiting the Maori village, there was an asian woman with her two teenagers who were not particularly exotic, uninterested in the guided tour, they retreated to their car, glued to their phones. Sound familiar. So I found myself alone with their mother, not being part of any subgroup. We exchanged a few glances, and gradually
Tewwakarewarewatangaoteopetauaawahiao
I took part in a guided tour of the village with the incredible name: Tewwakarewarewatangaoteopetauaawahiao. In my group, an Indigenous man from British Columbia was proudly displaying his Canucks colors. At the end, I asked him to do a video interview where he opened up and even thanked me for listening. I was thrilled; I thought it would be one of the highlights of my trip. When I went to watch it again later, I realized I hadn't recorded it. I always try to be quick and di
Travel: escape, discovery
I love to travel. I have a long history of travel interspersed with studies, a career managing social organizations, and shared custody of my son, who is now also on his own. I have to say, I'm a child of the traveling world. My parents got married in Paris after a long motorcycle trip from Paris to Morocco. Their happiness is evident in the photos from those moments. They decided to get married in Paris, and I was born in Montreal eight months later. That's where things go
Tahiti, the France at the end of the world?
I thought I'd find myself in a faraway France in the South Pacific, but no, this is Polynesia, French Polynesia certainly, but first and foremost Polynesia with its indigenous population from Asia who still speak their language, part of a large family spread across the Pacific. They have their own president and their own laws. While everyone, except for a few elderly people, speaks French, they don't have a Parisian or Radio-Canada accent. More so than in Quebec, the informal
Jean-Marie the sculptor
I interview people I meet, the collaboration is exceptional, a great experience.