by Craig Nicholson, The Intrepid Snowmobiler

 Many snowmobilers ask me what language challenges to anticipate while touring Canada’s numerous Francophone regions. Suddenly being immersed in an unfamiliar tongue may be a little uncomfortable at first. But the hospitality, charm and desire to help that characterize the Québecois, Acadian and other Francophone communities soon put one at ease. Tourism operators usually have at least a smattering of English, while many others have heard enough from touring snowmobilers to comprehend most basic needs. After all, gas is gaz, and every snowmobiler needs the same things.

Generally, the further one travels into the hinterlands, the scarcer English becomes, but not the welcoming smiles. If you are flexible and patient, and have a sense of humour and adventure, you will do just fine. Some visitors wonder if they will need an interpreter. On several snowmobile tours, a bilingual buddy named Jean has accompanied me. But his proficiency was not the perfect solution I had envisioned. 

Jean tells an amusing anecdote that pretty much sums up our interlocutory experiences. His English-speaking companions got in the habit of deferring to Jean for translation while ordering at every Québec restaurant on their tour. On the last day, they sat down to eat again. When the waitress inquired: “What would you like?” his buddies automatically turned to Jean for the language conversion. “What part of that English question didn’t you understand,” chuckled Jean, “We’re back in Ontario now, guys!”

Translation isn’t necessarily the solution. Frequently, I will ask Jean to get the answer to a question. He will converse back and forth interminably with a group of locals, amid much gesticulation and facial animation, then turn to me and say: “Yes.” By that time, I don’t even remember the question anymore!

Or sometimes, while speaking with fluently bilingual Francophones, their conversation will interchangeably slip in and out of English and French so seamlessly that I’m convinced a new language is being invented. Gathering my courage, I’ll try to follow suit.  I’ll string a few French words together with no context of verbs, tense or adjectives. Then I’ll throw in English wherever my French is deficient. My whole concoction will be phrased with a bogus French accent reminiscent of a B movie actor in a WWII resistance film. Invariably, I will receive a prompt and courteous answer, but never know for certain a) if I understand it properly; b) if it is the answer to the question I have asked; c) that either any of us had any idea what we are talking about; or d) why Jean is laughing so hard.

Lunching in a restaurant one day, I wanted to ask for a trail map in French. I queried Jean for the proper word. Thinking studiously for a moment, he solemnly replied: “Map.” A few minutes later, I asked him to order a hamburger for me. He asked for a “hamburger.” “Wait a minute”, I inquired, “how come you can order successfully using English words, and I can’t?” Jean explained that certain ubiquitous terms had become generic, but they must be pronounced properly. “Like ‘hot chicken’ or ‘grilled cheese’, ” he continued, pronouncing each, once in English, then again with a Frenchified inflection. “That sounds like a Chinese accent to me!” I rebutted. Jean replied with a Gaelic shrug and a French phrase that may have signified “Whatever works”, but could just as easily have meant “Make mine rare”. Now I can always eat Chinese food — even if it isn’t what I really ordered! 

I’ve toured comfortably throughout the Francophone regions of Québec, New Brunswick, Ontario, and Manitoba. Whenever riders inquire about my language adventures, I assure them that they too will rise to the occasion, just like my friend Jean.