Taking the Highroad Blog

A Day in Montreal, Quebec

April 21, 2009

I love Canada! After a successful training in Brockville, I was back in my tiny Hyundai and headed up the Kings Highway along the St. Lawrence river back to Montreal. The training had fascinated me because of the cultural differences that showed up right there in the classroom. The group was warm, receptive and had a great dynamic. I noticed how they responded to activities differently from my American participants, and how that kept me observant. Training across cultures is critical for the vitality of my skills, and I relished the opportunity to be surprised.

I reflected on the wonderful classroom day as I drove past a tiny blue church, a cemetery, small towns and people out walking. I stopped a couple of times to gaze at the river and the enormous ships passing by. In some ways I didn’t want to leave this peaceful back road where I hardly saw another car. I knew once I reached Montreal there would be traffic to contend with and crowds, but I pushed on.

At long last I reached Montreal and ran smack into a terrible traffic jam. I let the GPS take me into the old port, and right away saw a couple of homeless men wandering around the streets. I reminded myself to suspend all judgement of the city, positive or negative, until I had had a chance to observe.

I parked the car and headed to a cafe where that plan failed immediately. As anyone in my family could tell you, I get grumpy when I’m hungry due to low blood sugar. I passed a couple of spectacular buildings right away, but all I could think of was food.

Luckily I found a perfect sunny outdoor cafe with little tables where I could sit and watch people go by. Everyone around me was conversing in French and sipping cappuccinos, and I waited for someone to come and take my order. Several minutes went by, and a young server came out to give me a menu. Long after I had decided what to eat I was still sitting there waiting. I grew hungrier and more grumpy. I started to make judgements in my mind about the service and everything else.

Suddenly the lightbulb came on. Perhaps I didn’t know the rules and I simply needed to ask. I went inside the cafe and waved to the owner.

“I’d like to order some lunch,” I said, trying to tone down my hypoglycemic irritation. He smiled at me and gestured to the cash register.

“You place your order here and we’ll bring it to you.”

Fantastic. Strike one for the tourist.

I never cease to be amazed by how much cultural assumptions influence our actions, even in small ways. The trouble arises when we think we’re operating from the same platform. Nonetheless I enjoyed my lunch and the view of Notre Dame de Bonsecours church. I let the sun heal my mood, got up and strolled through Old Montreal. What a sight! Everywhere I turned was grand 18th and 19th century architecture, lively Montrealers, narrow streets and shops.

I had a marvelous time watching people and families enjoying the Place Jacques Cartier.

I eventually stumbled on Basilique Notre Dame, one of the most beautiful churches I’d ever seen.

All too soon the time came to wander back toward the car and make the journey to the airport. I soaked in the sun and the scene around me.

I felt gratitude for the opportunity to come to Canada and help my clients build a bridge to India. I looked around Montreal and took in its feel, its history.

If you haven’t had the opportunity, I hope that you will take the time to visit Canada. For those living in the United States, we share some cultural traits with our neighbor to the north, but there is much to learn from the differences. If you go to Canada, expect to be welcomed most heartily, and do try the chocolate torte at the Buelle Bistro in Brockville. You won’t be sorry.

O Canada!

April 14, 2009

What a day -a new country and a new culture, all under sunny skies. Of all of the places I’ve been in the world, I’ve never visited Canada, so I hopped out of bed easily this morning at 6am and headed for the airport to conduct a training on doing business with India. The weather in Atlanta was miserable, cold and rainy, but soon the plane rose above the clouds and we rode gold light and the blue arc of the earth all the way to Montreal.

I met a French Canadian in the seat next to me, and I asked him for some tips. I have traveled enough to know that no matter how similar you think a culture is to your own, that is an illusion not worth keeping. We talked of the traffic signals in Quebec (no right turn on red), the food, driving, and things to see. Before I knew it we were descending over the city and all at once I had added a new country to my globe hopping.

I sailed through immigration and sat at an airport cafe with a sandwich, looking around and watching people go by. You can learn a lot from the airport, and by the time I changed currency into Canadian dollars, listened to people converse in French, and glanced at the headlines in the local papers, I felt as if I’d traveled to Europe. Some of the surface differences between the cultures of Canada and the United States jumped out at me almost right away and I was anxious to learn more.

I spent time at the rental car counter to ask about road rules, but more so because I enjoyed chatting with the friendly clerks. I told them it was my first time in Canada and they welcomed me with gusto. By 1:00pm I was headed down 20 West to Brockville, past flat farmland and small towns, brown vegetation and signs in English and French. The music on the radio was great, and eventually I turned to the local news. A deejay was giving his opinion about Tamil protests going on in Ontario, saying that although Canada’s immigration policy welcomed one and all, people should respect Canadian law. A song came on next, but I wanted to hear more about local politics.

Two hours later I pulled into Brockville and was greeted by a sign for Hosers Car Wash. I laughed out loud as I found the hotel and checked in. The clerks once again gave me a hearty welcome to Canada and even gave me batteries for my camera. Brockville is small but beautiful with old homes overlooking the river, huge European style churches, and everything within walking distance.

After a short rest the client and his wife picked me up for dinner and we sat down to curried prawns, Canadian salmon and chocolate torte at a local restaurant. We watched the boats navigate the choppy waters, looked across the border to upstate New York, and talked of how the Internet has changed living abroad. I only wanted to take in more of Canada.

Tomorrow is my India training and my participants are mostly Canadian born, and I’ll look forward to hearing their perspectives and thoughts. It’s been an incredible day in this interesting country, so stay tuned for a day in Montreal!

The Spaces in Between: Raleigh and Virginia Beach

April 7, 2009

Every year I attend a conference for an organization called SIETAR, which stands for Society for Intercultural Education, Training and Research. The event is like a triple espresso shot of motivation for me because I am surrounded by those in my field as we share ideas and generate new ways of doing our work. My mind and spirit are revived and I return to my cross-cultural training and consulting afresh.

This year’s conference took place in Raleigh, North Carolina, and I stopped in Virginia Beach first to see a friend and take in the tranquility of the water. When I arrived, my long-time friend Jane and I wandered along the beach, took in the sights at Colonial Williamsburg, and ate fish tacos at a hole-in the-wall-shrimp-shack.

In this peaceful place I was able to let go of pressure and gain perspective. I remembered that in the hurried frenzy of running a company, training and keeping up with current world affairs, there is a space in between. That space is where my real work happens, the place where dialogue happens, where I form a relationship with my clients, and where excitement about India or China sparks.

When I attended the conference, a word popped up during one of the sessions that I hadn’t heard before: liminality. The word means “threshold” or “a transitional point between two spaces, processes or ways of life.”

There was the theme again – the spaces in between.

That message continued to come up throughout my week away. I was reminded by the keynote speaker to see the world on the basis of what is both inside of us and outside of us. In other words, we need to study up on our topic of expertise, keep our desks organized and our e-mail inbox under control. But we also need to pay attention to keeping ourselves grounded, cultivating stillness, and fostering creativity.

The world is no longer expert-focused. People are now looking to innovators and those with extraordinary imaginations to generate the next wave of culture. This is why Facebook, Twitter, and other tools have swept the globe, because they help us to connect in the spaces in between.

These reflections are a large part of the reason that travel continues to draw me into its fold. My trips shake up the norm and allow a different sort of work to take place, partly because I took time to play.

In Colonial Williamsburg I sat in George Washington’s church pew, watched sheep grazing in the sun, ate gourmet cheese and vanilla fudge, sat by a creek with wildflowers and a good friend, browsed the shops selling ye olde souvenirs, and watch spring color the blue sky with bursting buds.

Play also helps us connect with liminality, to hover on that threshold, to make better decisions and innovate more often. We sometimes just forget to engage in playfulness. I urge you to remember.

“Out beyond our ideas of right-doing and wrong-doing there is a field. I’ll meet you there.” – Rumi, 13th century poet and philosopher

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