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I am glad that I re-experienced a québécois winter after over ten years of absence. I am even happier that I am leaving it. My friend from Northern California told me to bring something warm, it's been chilly over there, she says. I am willing to bet it is not -18˚C (plus wind factor). I think I'll manage.
Today was my last day in Québec. What lovely activities did I get up to? I'll tell you. After I agreed to help him take some stuff over to his house, my cousin managed to drive his sister's car into his snow-filled yard. After an hour of trying in vain to get it to move, wheeling a hole in the frozen ground in the process, we were nearing despair. Or, at least, he was. I must admit I was a little amused. Thankfully, he lives in the countryside; a neighbour pointed us to the local sawmill, literally five houses down the road, where we found the owner who, in a matter of seconds, kindly dragged it out with his big tractor. Sometimes size does matter.
I am now packed and ready to go. I put the guitalele inside my rucksack, surrounded by my clothes. Fingers crossed it makes it.
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