Page 175 - Exile-ebook

A fishing village near Puerto escondido, Mexico.
174 AN EXILE OF THE MIND BROMIDE IN MY TEA 175

Changing leaves of autumn reflected in a Québec lake. pulled over by a traffic policeman remember that either. We thought
for speeding. On checking my we would wait until he was 21 and
coast road through Oregon and Across a large desk sat a tall, license, the policeman began calling try again.
Washington State, I experienced bearded French Canadian. I offered me ‘Father’, and cast suspicious The following year we travelled
a great cure for giving up fast my services gratis to Reader’s looks at my pretty young assistant. to Mexico for our annual holiday,
food. From a takeaway we ordered Digest for two weeks. If it didn’t My driver’s license crisply new and leaving Marcel to learn français
chicken, to find later finger-licking work out then I would walk away. issued only the day before, read: québécois with his numerous
Kentucky fried maggots hiding It was difficult for a person with FATHER EDWARD relatives. We left the car at a Texan
beneath the secret recipe batter. kindergarten French to find work in (OCCUPATION: PRIEST). service station near the Mexican
From Vancouver we made the Montréal and my offer showed I was My middle name used and surname border, safe from thievery because
overland journey crossing four time keen if not conversable. mistaken for a vocation I never of its dilapidated condition, and
zones through the Rockies and over I began as a paste-up artist and had. I did the right thing and had it took public transport to exotic
the wide prairies to the dynamic city of spent the next four years ascending corrected, resisting the temptation places around the country.
Montréal set on an island in the Saint the corporate ladder in the Special to buy altar wine from the liquor The sleepy fishing village of
Lawrence River. A slice of old Europe Books Department, not to be con- store at priestly discounts. Puerto Escondido clung to the tip
with eighteenth century architecture fused with the literary butchery of Since Marcel couldn’t remember of Mexico’s elbow on the country’s
and a unique mix of French and bestsellers crammed between the his visit to Disneyland in California, sparsely populated southern coast.
English culture. And home to Nicole’s covers of condensed books. we gave him a special treat, at We stayed in a primitive lean-to hut
very large family of seven sisters and Driving through busy Montréal the cute age of four, and visited on the beach, cooking our food on
three brothers. streets to a book meeting, I was Disneyworld in Florida. He didn’t an open fire. Water was hauled up