"Sauvage"-Learning the Hard Way

I learned two things the hard way this week:
1. When there's a theme-party in Montreal the common consensus is NOT to actually dress to it
2. In the smaller communities on the outskirts of Montreal racism is rampant and in the open

While these lessons fall into very different categories and levels of gravity, they both have one thing in common. The word 'Sauvage'.

LESSON #1
On Wednesday, there was a fundraiser for Annick's UQAM film faculty. The theme was "Sauvages". Annick explained that an appropriate way to participate in this theme would be to wear things like animal print, fur, ect.. So animal print I did!

 Leopard print jeggings to be exact. Along with my leopard-print cardigan, fur boots, tribal-style earings and two buns at the top of my head for ears. Upon arriving, to my horror, I was prettymuch the only one dressed this way. Sure there were a few with some esthetically pleasing tribal face paint, some feather earings, zebra-print heels....but H to T leopard print was all me and only me.

Annick, bartending the event

Joannie in the "jail". A tired party game to Manitoba wedding-social-goers, but a
very new and exciting concept to Quebecois.

That was about my fourth 'we're not in kansas anymore' moment since I've been here. Y m'semble que in Winnipeg, when there's a theme-there's a theme! It's dorkier NOT to dress up. So anyways, whatever regardless, it was an awesome night and in the end, I decided I was the cooler one for having dressed up. Even if they were jeggings. 

LESSON #2
The following day, I had a workshop for the Aboriginal Media Project I'm teaching in Deux Montagnes, just outside of Montreal, close to Kahnawake. After the class Pepper, who is the other teacher I'm working with, a (beautiful) very visibly native woman and I picked up some coffee at Tim Hortons for the ride back. We got a little stuck in the parking lot, trying to figure out which road we were getting back onto while three men, standing in the same parking lot were staring at us laughing. Pepper rolled her window down, laughed along and playfully said something along the lines of "Yes, we're lost-can you tell?!"

Somewhere in between the fact that she was native and the fact she was speaking English, one of the men decided to say "Osti de sauvage" as we rolled away. Pepper slammed on her breaks and yelled that she'd heard what he said. I was in total shock. "Osti de sauvage" ???... "OSTI de SAUVAGE?" That is my grandmother's story! What is this, 1925? Needless to say I was fairly traumatized. Pepper laughed and said she was used to it around these parts. How awful! How gross! Where ARE we?

To freak 'em out a little, we scooped back into the parking lot, pulled up right beside them, rolled the window down and I took this photo. Unfortunately they were too stupid to mind.

wtf