I am liveblogging the annual meeting of the Canadian Society for the Study of Rhetoric, which convenes officially in both English and French.
I listen to papers in French the way a small mammal receives food pellets from a machine. Every once in a while, a pellet appears, and I snatch it, and I get happy, but I have no idea how to assemble those pellets into a meal. I just hope for the next one.
My monolingualism shames me sometimes.
Moreso when I remember what it means to live in rich multiculturalism.
The drive to Banff gave me ample time to listen to Canadian radio,
1. Two stations played indigenous music, one from CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Channel), both with English hosts.
2. Three stations played French language programming. If it was CBC, I would not know, as I speak no French.
3. One station played some kind of Asian language programming. If it was CBC, I would not know, as I speak no Asian language.
4. Most other stations played what seemed like American pop, rock and country. A few played Canadian pop, rock and country interspersed with American pop, rock and country.
Three, possibly four languages broadcast to a community of a few thousand, more than 150 kilometers from the major urban center. People ask me why I miss the twin cities, and one reason is: I did not have to _try_ to encounter other cultures and languages when I lived in St. Paul. They were simply _present_.
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