The most immediately apparent difference between being in Quebec and being in New England is the language. My French sounds horrible when uttered but I can stumble around reading signs and generally figuring out what I need to do, go, or say (again, badly). All the people I met were very kind, catching on by my second sentence that I should be dealt with in English. I'll practice French conversation and improve my pronounciation so that I can at least handle exchanges of five minutes or less without resorting to Frenglish.
The first picture you see here is of Guy Tower but of course, in French, Tour Guy. "Tour Guy" -- bad joke, huh, but funny sign. The second was a bit odder. The place sells Chinese dumplings but perhaps to satisfy the owner's nostalgia or to entice potential guests with the promise of cold winter nights and vats of hot water stuffed with dumplings -- we have "Ravioli of Manchuria" or in Chinese, "Manchurian Dumpling King." We never had a chance to eat there, but after my dumpling overdose in Harbin, I feel qualified to do a little taste-testing.
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