Cap Pele - Mere Observations

You might think The French (Acadians) and English mix like oil and vinegar, yet here, life is truly serene. We were minutes late for church this morning when I couldn’t help but notice the men at the back, making small talk, not listening to a word of the Lord, nor the priest and dictating a spot for us to sit in. I felt like inviting them to sit with their wives at the front of the church, but I digress. The priest’s message read in French was vibrant, yet looking around, there were no kids, no laughter, no life, 60 was the mean age, and they looked it too. The priest spoke of his journey, like that of Paul, and all of us, the roads both rocky and smooth that we venture in life. I felt an immediate connection to him. We were in and out in 47 minutes, the parking lot was empty in 6, we timed it while swatting mosquitos that had entered the car and got our blood. They must have been waiting for church to get out to attack, like the unwed women to the bridal bouquet.

The eight building in town made up the village of Cap Pele. The library is my only connection to books, and the outside world, other than the fact the internet doesn’t really work, I feel like I am on the scene of the Beverly Hill Billie’s. What does work is CBC radio at the cabin, and I am hooked on. The Best of (As This Happens) was on and we were riveted with yesterday's story.  A Canadian man in his mid-twenties, proceeds to explain how he was stung on his scrotum by a bee, and from this experience he decided to research which body part actually hurts most when stung by a bee for a 1 min. period. You know where this is going. Yes, the commentator couldn’t seem to get off his penis, asking why and how, and where exactly on the penis he choose to insert the bee’s proboscis. She even asked him if he was circumcised and would the foreskin have to be pulled back or not? She was incessant, or perhaps incestuous.  Hal and I were in stiches laughing as the man patiently moved through all organs of the skin giving detailed accounts of the pain in each area. It is actually the thin layer of skin between our nostrils that is most painful, for most of you that are still visualizing the male genitals. 

The local entertainment was going strong at the municipal park last night as Hal and I got out of our car and sat on the benches alone. Rock, country, country and more French and English country was sang, never knew the Acadians were country folk. The dumbfounding part was 90% of the people sat in their car as if at a drive in theater and listened from the comforts of their car. We couldn’t believe it, for over an hour they sat cramped in backseats and front seats with windows rolled down, cranking their heads instead of walking a mere 15 feet to front row seats. These were people between 20- 60 yrs. old, those 80 and up were seated on park benches singing and clapping with us. My heart went out to the couple on stage and Hal clapped extra loud for those too lazy to do so. Although our legs were moving to the music, I wasn’t brave enough to dance in front of the crowd, as Hal might have been. I looked over at this wondrous man and tears welled up knowing I wouldn’t be holding his hand at events like these and the thought of going it alone was making less sense by the moment. It is truly amazing the depth of appreciation one has for another when separated. Blessing the time together has never been so poignant to me.