Qui l\u2019eut cru? Je suis assise avec un grand th\u00e9 noir au McDonald\u2019s de CHANDLER. En quittant le joli motel de PASP\u00c9BIAC je me suis rendu compte que le comptoir \u00e0 caf\u00e9 de l\u2019office principal \u00e9tait ferm\u00e9. J\u2019ai donc mis la cl\u00e9 dans la fente de la porte et j\u2019ai pris la route sans \u00e9crire, la t\u00eate bien bourr\u00e9e de tous les souvenirs d\u2019hier.<\/p>\n
\u00c0 la radio de RADIO-CANADA Nouveau-Brunswick, j\u2019entends une gentille pr\u00e9sentatrice faire le point sur les points. Et moi j\u2019imagine une immense ligne de petits points avan\u00e7ant \u00e0 la queue leu leu vers je ne sais o\u00f9. Mais non, la femme parle des points que l\u2019on re\u00e7oit lorsqu\u2019on ach\u00e8te quelque chose \u00e0 la pharmacie. Zut! J\u2019\u00e9chappe quelques gouttes de caf\u00e9 sur mon pantalon rose; rose bonbon comme le chandail et les petites chaussettes que j\u2019ai aux pieds. Depuis que j\u2019ai abandonn\u00e9 les s\u00e9rieux costards (costumes trois-pi\u00e8ces), j\u2019ai cette propension \u00e0 m\u2019habiller ton sur ton avec des couleurs vives : rose, vert lime, jaune citron, bleu ciel et rouge framboise. J\u2019ai de la suite dans les id\u00e9es. Je porte des couleurs des fruits enjolivant nos assiettes \u00e0 d\u00e9jeuner. En ai-je de ces fameux points que l\u2019on me donne \u00e0 tout bout de champ? La derni\u00e8re fois que j\u2019y ai r\u00e9fl\u00e9chi, tous les petits-enfants sont partis en vacances.<\/p>\n
Par ici, \u00e0 PORT-DANIEL, les maisons sont presque toutes peintur\u00e9es blanches. Que se passe-t-il? 30 % de possibilit\u00e9s d\u2019averses \u00e0 PERC\u00c9; annonce maintenant RADIO-CANADA, ma meilleure amie en voyage. L\u2019averse ne me d\u00e9range pas. Selon Google, l\u2019eau abreuve, l\u2019eau lave, l\u2019eau purifie, l\u2019eau pr\u00e9serve notre peau, am\u00e9liore notre concentration, notre m\u00e9moire et notre digestion.<\/p>\n
Pour un instant, oubliez l\u2019eau, ouvrez grands vos yeux et regardez combien les lupins sauvages sont magnifiques en GASP\u00c9SIE. Mauves, roses, blancs ou bleus p\u00e2les, ils enjolivent nos bords de route et r\u00e9chauffent nos c\u0153urs. J\u2019adore les fleurs, mais je n\u2019ai jamais acquis l\u2019habitude d\u2019en acheter. J\u2019ai toujours \u00e9t\u00e9 grippe-sou, comme ma m\u00e8re probablement. La pauvre \u00e9conomisait sur tout m\u00eame si son \u00e9poux avait \u00e0 l\u2019\u00e9poque un salaire convenable. Croyez-le ou non, durant la pand\u00e9mie, j\u2019ai moi-m\u00eame d\u00e9terr\u00e9 des plants de lupins sauvages et je les ai transplant\u00e9s dans mon parterre. Et ils ont surv\u00e9cu! Cette ann\u00e9e, ils sont aussi gros et aussi beaux que leurs fr\u00e8res sauvages.<\/p>\n
Je roule, roule et j\u2019arrive au centre de PORT-DANIEL. Je suis sur un pont entour\u00e9 d\u2019eau lorsqu\u2019un gros orage \u00e9clate. \u00c0 droite, \u00e0 gauche et partout, il y a de l\u2019eau se m\u00ealant \u00e0 l\u2019eau des nuages qui m\u2019asperge \u00e0 gros bouillons.<\/p>\n
Avez-vous d\u00e9j\u00e0 r\u00e9fl\u00e9chi aux \u00e9glises anglicanes? Savez-vous qu\u2019elles sont beaucoup plus petites que les grosses \u00e9glises catholiques? Humblement peintur\u00e9es en blanc, elles ressemblent \u00e0 des petits chalets o\u00f9 les voyageurs dans le besoin auraient le moyen de coucher. La foi se mesurerait-elle \u00e0 la grosseur du b\u00e2timent; ou l\u2019enfer \u00e0 l\u2019intensit\u00e9 de son feu? Apr\u00e8s quelque 700 kilom\u00e8tres de route, j\u2019ai envie de dire que presque tous les cimeti\u00e8res du bas du fleuve sont situ\u00e9s du c\u00f4t\u00e9 de la mer. Les morts s\u2019y trouveraient-ils plus \u00e0 l\u2019aise; plus heureux \u00e0 entendre le doux murmure des sir\u00e8nes, plus enclins \u00e0 se dissoudre dans l\u2019eau sal\u00e9e?<\/p>\n
Wow! Au 95 FM, Gilles Vigneault chante \u00ab Gens du pays \u00bb. J\u2019immobilise ma bagnole et j\u2019engrange tous ces kilos de po\u00e9sie. C\u2019est moi, gens du pays. Parle-moi d\u2019amour, cher Gilles.<\/p>\n
\u00c0 CHANDLER, les fant\u00f4mes de pissenlits s\u2019\u00e9vaporent dans le ciel. Des champignons d\u2019argile enjolivent les devantures. Les falaises sont abruptes et la mer est souvent difficile \u00e0 voir. Ma courageuse Mini monte et descend en permanence, comme un man\u00e8ge de parc d\u2019attractions. Je roule et je vole et, soudainement, la radio m\u2019apprend qu\u2019\u00e0 PERC\u00c9, 800 marcheurs viennent de compl\u00e9ter la \u00ab Ultra Trail Gaspesia 100 \u00bb. Moi qui en suis \u00e0 30 kilom\u00e8tres du rocher, trouverai-je un g\u00eete pour la nuit? Mon pied s\u2019alourdit sur la p\u00e9dale. J\u2019ai faim. Aujourd\u2019hui je n\u2019ai rien mang\u00e9 d\u2019autre que des pommes et des carottes. Je d\u00e9vale une longue c\u00f4te. En plein soleil, vers 16 h, j\u2019entrevois enfin le fameux rocher, vu, senti et touch\u00e9 par des milliards de touristes depuis l\u2019aube des temps. L\u2019H\u00f4tel La Normandie, lui aussi, le d\u00e9visage. J\u2019y entre et demande une nuit\u00e9e. Du balcon de la chambre face \u00e0 la mer, je pourrais presque tendre le bras et caresser la merveille. Mais non! Des milliers d\u2019oiseaux blancs la prot\u00e8gent. Une s\u00e9curit\u00e9 peut-\u00eatre sup\u00e9rieure \u00e0 celle du pape Fran\u00e7ois?<\/p>\n
Ah! Si j\u2019\u00e9tais plus jeune, je chausserais de grosses bottes, m\u2019enroulerais dans un cir\u00e9 de marin et irais \u00e0 la p\u00eache en haute mer pour capturer des baleines ou attraper de grosses morues par le ventre avec une \u00e9paisse ligne transparente et un hame\u00e7on g\u00e9ant. <\/p>\n
Ah! Si j\u2019\u00e9tais plus sportive, je partirais en exp\u00e9dition avec d\u2019autres dans les sentiers p\u00e9destres de l\u2019arri\u00e8re-pays perc\u00e9en. Je visiterais le G\u00e9oparc mondial UNESCO : la fameuse Grotte, la grande crevasse et la for\u00eat magique.<\/p>\n
Ah! Si j\u2019\u00e9tais plus aventureuse, j\u2019irais faire le tour de l\u2019\u00ceLE BONAVENTURE en kayak. J\u2019escaladerais les cordages jusqu\u2019\u00e0 grimper sur la terre ferme de l\u2019\u00eele o\u00f9 je casserais la cro\u00fbte.<\/p>\n
Ah! Si j\u2019\u00e9tais plus curieuse, je louerais des bonbonnes de plong\u00e9e et je ratisserais le fond de la baie pour y admirer ses plus belles agates.<\/p>\n
Ah! Si le temps pouvait se d\u00e9tricoter, mais il ne le peut point. Alors je claudique sur les trottoirs de PERC\u00c9 \u00e0 la recherche d\u2019un beau go\u00e9land \u00e0 suspendre dans ma verri\u00e8re des Laurentides. Confront\u00e9e \u00e0 mille babioles d\u00e9j\u00e0 vues, je reviens au g\u00eete me faire une beaut\u00e9 pour le souper. Puis, au grand comptoir de La Maison du P\u00eacheur, c\u2019est une magnifique pizza blanche qui vole la vedette au homard vivant. Toute bourr\u00e9e de crevettes, de p\u00e9toncles et de chair de homard, la pizza est un v\u00e9ritable d\u00e9lice; avec deux coupes de pinot grigio. Oui, oui. Au diable la d\u00e9pense!<\/p>\n
C\u2019est tellement facile de r\u00eaver lorsqu\u2019on a mang\u00e9 comme une reine. Je m\u2019enroule dans le blanc immacul\u00e9 des draps, d\u00e9pose un livre de po\u00e9sie sur mon flanc et je laisse mon c\u0153ur tout doucement aspirer la magie des mots. <\/p>\n
\u00c0 suivre dimanche prochain!<\/p>\n
Cora
\n\u2764<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Qui l\u2019eut cru? Je suis assise avec un grand th\u00e9 noir au […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":414,"featured_media":8520,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[32],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-8519","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-lettre-mme-cora"],"acf":{"img_en":"","contenu_en":"Who would have guessed it? I\u2019m sitting with a large black tea at the McDonald's in CHANDLER. As I was leaving the lovely motel in PASP\u00c9BIAC, I realized that the coffee counter in the main office was closed. So I put the key in the door slot and hit the road without writing, my head full of yesterday\u2019s memories.\r\n\r\nOn RADIO-CANADA New Brunswick, I hear an affable announcer making a point about points (point sounds like \u201cdot\u201d in French). And I imagine a long line of little dots following each other to who knows where. But no, the woman is talking about the points you get when you buy something at the drugstore. Fiddlesticks! I spill a bit of coffee on my pink slacks; candy pink like the sweater and the socks on my feet. Since giving up serious three-piece suits, I\u2019ve tended to dress in bright colours: pink, lime green, lemon yellow, sky blue and raspberry red. I'm a natural born thinker. I wear the colours of the fruit that decorates our breakfast plates. I have amassed so many of those purchase points. In fact, when I last thought about it, all the grandkids were away enjoying a free holiday.\r\n\r\nIn PORT-DANIEL, the houses are almost all painted white. What\u2019s going on? 30% chance of showers in PERC\u00c9, announces RADIO-CANADA, my best travel companion. I don't mind the rain. According to Google, water moistens, washes, purifies and preserves our skin, and improves our concentration, memory and digestion.\r\n\r\nForget the water just for a moment and simply open your eyes wide and see how beautiful the wild lupines are in GASP\u00c9SIE. Purple, pink, white or pale blue, they embellish our roadsides and warm our hearts. I love flowers, but I never got into the habit of buying them. I've always been a committed penny pincher, probably because my mother was one. The poor thing looked for deals on everything even though her husband made a decent salary at the time. Believe it or not, during the pandemic I dug up some wild lupines and transplanted them in my garden bed. And they survived! This year they are as big and as beautiful as their wild sisters.\r\n\r\nI drive on and on and finally arrive in the centre of PORT-DANIEL. I am on a bridge surrounded by water when a big storm strikes. To the right, to the left and everywhere, seawater mixes with cloud water, which is coming down in buckets. \r\n\r\nHave you ever thought about Anglican churches? Do you know that they are much smaller than big Catholic churches? Painted humbly in white, they look like little cottages where travellers in need can sleep. Is faith measured by the size of the building, or hell by the intensity of its fire? After some 700 kilometres of travelling, it seems to me that almost all the cemeteries on the Lower St. Lawrence are located on the seaside. Would the dead be more at ease there, happier to hear the gentle whisper of sirens, more inclined to dissolve in the saltwater?\r\n\r\nOh! On 95 FM, Gilles Vigneault sings Gens du pays (\u201cPeople of my country,\u201d often considered the unofficial anthem of Quebec). I stop my car and take in all those kilos of poetry. I am a gens du pays. Talk to me about love, dear Gilles.\r\n\r\nIn CHANDLER, the ghosts of dandelions evaporate into the sky. Clay mushrooms adorn shop fronts. The cliffs are steep and the sea is often hard to see. My brave Mini is constantly being bounced up and down, like an amusement park ride. I roll and fly, and suddenly the radio tells me that in PERC\u00c9, 800 walkers have just completed the Ultra Trail Gaspesia 100 trail-running event. I am 30 kilometres from the rock, will I find a place to stay for the night? My foot grows heavy against the pedal. I am hungry. Today I have eaten nothing but apples and carrots. I shoot down a long hill. In the sunshine, around 4 p.m., I finally catch a glimpse of the famous rock, which has been seen, felt and touched by billions of tourists since the dawn of time. The Hotel La Normandie also has a view of her. I enter and ask for a night's stay. From the balcony of the room facing the sea, I can almost reach out and caress this natural wonder. But no! Thousands of white birds protect her. A security perhaps even tighter than that of Pope Francis\u2019?\r\n\r\nAh, if I were younger, I would put on big boots, wrap myself in a sailor's raincoat and venture onto the high seas to watch whales or catch big cod by the belly with a thick transparent line and a giant hook.\r\n\r\nIf I were more athletic, I would explore the hiking trails of the PERC\u00c9 inlands. I would visit the UNESCO World Geopark: the famous Grotto, the great crevasse and the magic forest.\r\n\r\nIf I were more adventurous, I would go around BONAVENTURE ISLAND in a kayak. I would climb the rocks until I reached the island\u2019s mainland where I would enjoy a bite to eat.\r\n\r\nIf I were more curious, I would rent a scuba tank and scour the bottom of the bay to admire its most beautiful agates.\r\n\r\nIf only time could unfurl, but it cannot. So I wander the streets of PERC\u00c9 in search of a beautiful gull knickknack to hang in my Laurentian sun room. Confronted with a thousand trinkets I\u2019ve already seen, I go back to the B&B to get dressed for dinner. Then, at the big counter of La Maison du P\u00eacheur, a magnificent white pizza steals the show from the live lobster. Packed with shrimp, scallops and lobster meat, the pizza is a real treat. I enjoy it with not one but two glasses of Pinot Grigio. Even the wild sea couldn\u2019t stop my extravagance! \r\n\r\nIt's so easy to dream when you've eaten like a queen. I wrap myself in the pristine white of the sheets, and laying on my side, open a book of poetry and let my heart gently absorb the magic of the words. \r\n\r\nMore next Sunday\u2026\r\n\r\nCora\r\n\u2764"},"yoast_head":"\n