Je me souviens...
As you travel north across the forested mountains of regional
Québec, on that long, swirving, lonely road, you can't help but think of the
unsoiled majesty that still dominates the
land. High above you, in the clouded gray skies, and an
eagle screams. A drizzle of
rain blurs your
windshield. It has been more than three hours since you've left
Québec City but still you can only see the
endless carpet of coniferous trees. How many
lakes and rivers had you seen? You had lost count an hour ago.
When finally you
emerge from the woodlands, your ears pop from the pressure of altitude
dissipating. At last, some
signs of civilisation, you think, as you reach a
crossroads surrounded by scattered conviences. In a short time, you would reach
Chicoutimi.
The
Sun pierces the clouds
more and more,
shining down on all those isolated farms. In
passing some few fields of yellow flowers, you are re
minded of the fresh smells of summer's blooming. On the
horizon appears your destination,
Ville de Saguenay, which
native people used to call
Chicoutimi. It meant 'where the
depths are no more'. It was the
birthplace of the
Witch of the North.
Built across a steep
ravine, Chicoutimi stands divided, atop age-old rocks, tall solid
bridges linking the
two halves of the city
together despite the unending determination of
Saguenay River. You
approach from the southern side, rapidly passing through the
despairing sight of the newer developments, those flat expanses of large surface stores, brand names and familiar
products. The city takes form as you plunge into the old commercial
center,
remembering the days long past when you used to play around these
jumping streets, paved over crazy hills.
As you
cross the bridge over the rumbling waters, you penetrate into
another world, even
simpler, poorer, lonelier. Here the hills rise up to new heights, giving you spectacular views of the
whole little
french-speaking
town. How many people live here anyway? Probably not
even 200,000
souls. Cross-bearing
catholic churches, now mostly
abandoned, still look over the
quiet community. Ascending still more, you reach the lady's house.
Waiting at her front porch, she waves hello and says '
Bienvenue en
Amérique!'