Part 1: Trois-Pistoles, QC

Once upon a time, there was a girl with a big red suitcase who boarded a bus to the tiny village of Trois-Pistoles, Quebec, which is right on the Saint Laurence river. She got a room with a view at Priscille's house, which overlooked the river and the bicycle shop next door.

Once upon the same time, there was a boy who wanted to learn French who landed up in Trois-Pistoles, Quebec for the Semaine Preperatoire before the Summer Language Program began. He was roommates with a guy named Trevor who was studying to become a Catholic priest.

It so happened that the girl arrived a bit early for the course in Trois-Pistoles, and she had just arrived with her big red suitcase and had packed away her clothes and her scarves when Priscille called her downstairs to eat dinner. She walked down the stairs just as the door opened and the tall quiet boy who wanted to learn French walked in the door. She thought he had very beautiful eyes and she didn't know what to say, not because of his eyes, but because she had to speak in French.

The boy thought the girl was very pretty and very smart. He didn't know what to say to her, and he wouldn't have known what to say to her, even he hadn't had to speak French. So, the girl and the boy were very quiet and Priscille talked a lot.

That night, lots of other girls and boys arrived in Trois-Pistoles for the Summer Language Bursary Program, which is a learning-French-for-anglophones project funded by the Government of Canada. The girl with the big red suitcase and lots of scarves and the boy who wanted to learn French registered for their classes and workshops and spent a lot of time together.

The girl and the boy talked about lots of things, especially about God, because of Trevor, who was studying to be a Catholic priest. They also talked about their families, about their dreams, and about their favourite things. And they always spoke only French, which made things a little bit complicated.

One weekend, all the boys and girls piled into a big bus and went to Quebec City. The girl and the boy stayed in a hostel without all the other people. They spent the days going to the art museum and having a picnic on the Plains of Abraham. In the evening they went out for dinner and strolled on the board walk and talked (in English) until 3 am. Then the boy took the girl's hand.

The next day, the boy and the girl went to have coffee and the girl said to the boy: "What do you want from this?" and the boy was quiet. He thought and thought. "You could move to Winnipeg," said the girl, as a joke. The boy thought and thought. "I have to think about it," the boy said.

In the days that followed, the boy and the girl walked to school hand in hand. They talked in French again, about all sorts of things. The other boys and girls whispered and giggled. But the girl and the boy didn't care. Then one evening the boy said: "I've decided to move to Winnipeg." So the girl phoned her parents and said: "Mom and Dad, I wanted to tell you I have a special friend and he is moving to Winnipeg and I was wondering if he could live at our house." "Okay," said the mother, "What is his name?"

So the girl and the boy made plans about the boys move to Winnipeg. It was hard when the girl packed up her big red suitcase and got back on the bus to go home, but they both knew that in a few weeks they would be seeing each other again.

They talked every day on the phone for 3 hours, and got to know eachother better. And that was the beginning of a beautiful friendship...