Homesick to Hopeful…a Sunday column!

In my hometown of Edmonton, Canada lies a stretch of road, probably no more than four km long.

It takes about an hour to bike on this path, which stretches from my house (92nd ave, 146a street) to 87 ave, in the university area. I call this stretch Family Way, since during that hour-long journey, there are five houses that I can pop into unannounced to see family, put my feet up, and be coaxed into having a nice, home-cooked meal.

In those five houses are two aunts, two uncles, two grandparents, seven cousins, my best friend (who I've known since I was born, so basically a brother), and my dad.

How lucky am I to have that many people within such a short distance?

I can't say how awesome it was to just be able to stroll in and see family whenever I felt like it.

Family Way is probably the biggest thing I miss about Edmonton.

Maybe one day my house will be the focal point of a Family Way.

Maybe in Edmonton, that address will be 342 Ormsby Road East. Maybe in Montreal, it will be 4467 ave Laval. Maybe in Paris, it will be 7 rue Buoysell.


On Montreal…

It's definitely the same city I remember it to be, both in positive and not-so-positive ways. There certainly is much more money to be had out west. But the people and quality of culture here is second to none. Last summer, I lived in the McGill Ghetto, around the prestigious university. It was a great area, but didn't have much of the French culture. This time around, I'm in The Plateau, a neighborhood with downtown Paris on one side, and a quaint French town on the other. It's probably my favourite part of the city. I'm excited to get reacquainted with the city. In Paris, I had some of the strongest relationships with people I've ever experienced (which made returning to Edmonton a truly challenging ordeal); I hope to find that again in Montreal.

That being said, the first two weeks of any move are challenging. Last summer, my friends here were all from Alberta. I didn't have a ton of Quebecois pals. Right now, I'm finding out that social interaction can be at a premium when you don't know too many people in a city (a similar lesson I learned in Paris).


On Concordia…

My professors follow me on Twitter, so I'll start with the positive! I'm relieved I came here. The

school is completely different than my previous university. Much higher standards for everything (admissions, deadlines, attendance policy), lots of infrastructure (own journalism building, TV and radio studios, media labs), and professors with diverse backgrounds (covering Parliament for the Canadian Press, hosting a radio show on TSN). The entire campus has a different feeling…there's a football stadium, hockey arena, lots of green space, a quad. It's a big league school in every single way. I have classmates from Portugal, New Orleans, Strasbourg, Montreal, Vancouver…really fun to be in that environment.

Compared to the other university, Concordia just does different things…the department head addressing all first year students on the first day of classes, every journalism student being issued a press pass to cover events around Montreal…things that established programs do. For the first time since high school, I'm proud of the school that I go to, and can't wait to tell people about it. It's gonna be a great three years here.


Quelques Autres Trucs…

Living here again has reaffirmed to me that having a family in Alberta is probably the way to go. I've learned a few things from moving around so much…you can never really rush "getting settled in", since that process has its own timeline. Spending money to make a place feel more homey is never a bad investment. There really is no price for true comfort. I don't think I've ever worked as hard for something as I did for getting into Concordia…getting rushed to the hospital the night before my English exam in Lyon, mailing documents from another continent, dealing with administration…it was a real challenge.

I've had a lot of firsts in Montreal and, as of this morning, can add another to that list: first time being stood up by a lady.

On that note, in lieu of a Rolling Stones song that normally follows my beautiful prose, I recommend watching the alternate ending to How I Met Your Mother. It really does Ted Moseby and his epic story some justice, and invokes "the feels."

À bientôt!