Fernando is going to the
Carnaval de Quebec next month with his friends. I'm staying home to catsit our cats and Shooter the Dog. I don't mind, cause it's not really my thing to stand around outside during the coldest month of the year. As a child I always got tired of sledding before other kids, cause my little toes and fingers were in so much pain.
The carnival's been going since 1894--it grew out of post-Lent frolicking.
This is the Master of the Carnaval, the Bonhomme du Carnaval (carnival snowman.) I told Fernando I want a picture of him!
As you can see he's dressed in traditional Québécois garb.
But despite creepiness, our popular news magazine came under fire when they used Bonhomme for the cover story about corruption in Quebec. Poor Bonhomme.
Besides the sporting events, the carnival features an ice/snow castle...
fantastic sculptures...
and a snow bath. Which I think Shooter-the-dog's dad is trying to convince everyone to do.
(My mother and I always wanted to do
Vancouver's annual New Year's polar bear dip, but there's no way we're arriving anywhere at 2:30 PM New Year's Day. We can barely get up by the "crack of noon" as my grandfather's cousin used to say.)
I'm going to ask for a souvenir. Maybe a "ceinture flechée" (arrowhead sash)...
or anything with Bonhomme on it. He may be creepy but... he's the man, what can I say. Though I was born in Alberta, partly raised in Manitoba, I've lived in Quebec for 26 years. And my family name is very French Canadian, so it's in the blood there somewhere. My québécoise-a-tude.
