My neighbor walked by the other day wearing a t-shirt that said COEXIST. Each letter of the word is actually a symbol that represents a different religion or world view. A t-shirt, with one word, can be profound.

Our ability to coexist peacefully is fundamental to the well-being of everyone on this planet. Travel can help us achieve this. Through travel we experience cultures and the individuals who live in them. We learn to appreciate each other, accept differences and live side by side.

Fourteen years ago tomorrow, I traveled to Quebec in hopes that I would come to terms with what could very well be a need to coexist.

The Second Quebec Referendum.
I am an Anglophone from Quebec who has lived outside La Belle Provence for ¾ of my life. But I still consider myself a Quebecer. I have family there – roots there. So, on October 30th, 1995 when Quebec was holding its second referendum on separation, I felt fearful. Everyone knew it was going to be a close vote and I really didn’t want it to go “Yes”.

However, while it may be inconvenient at times, I believe in the democratic process. I knew that I would have to live with the outcome no matter what it was. I also knew that history was being made.  So, at 6am on the morning of October 30^th, I packed my two middle sons, still asleep, into the car on a road trip east to live the day and, hopefully, be comfortable with the outcome – whatever it was. (This story is an exception. It is not about solo travel)

Moving west to east across Montreal island.
It’s a bit of a generalization but, in 1995, more Anglophones lived in the west side of Montreal and more Francophones in the east. My family is Anglo. My husband’s family is French and English.

By the time my sons woke up, we were stopping at my elderly Aunt and Uncle’s for breakfast near Rigaud, which is just west of Montreal island. My uncle did most of the talking. They were clearly not happy with the prospect of separation but seemed to feel somewhat buffered in their Anglo enclave.

From there we went to Lachine where I grew up and still have a couple of uncles living. This is a suburb that seemed about 3/4 English and 1/4 French when I was young but I learned from both families that it had become more French. (The solitudes were not quite so isolated) My sons were shocked by the discriminatory musings of one elderly uncle about the situation. It was a window onto what the Quebecois had endured for centuries.

Then we headed to the south shore to a cousin of my husband.  She was definitely voting ‘No’ but her husband who was French would not declare himself.  This caused a bit of tension in the family that then assumed he was voting ‘Yes’. They understood my mission and brought a neighbor  who was a Separatist over to discuss the issue. It was a wild discussion around the dining room table – all in French. The volume was high and I got most of what was being said but, every once in a while, someone would drop out to make sure that I understood.

From there we went to a 3^rd floor walk-up in the east end of Montreal where two elderly aunts lived. In some ways, their concerns were the greatest. Though they were both fluently bilingual and lived comfortably in a French section of Montreal (and still do) they were concerned about what living in a country of Quebec would mean to their old age pension.

Sitting in their living room we watched the results come in. It was a nail biter to the end. The final results: 50.58% voted to stay in Canada. 49.42% voted for separation. Truly, half the province was unhappy with the result.

But, of my trip, I was very happy. I realized half way through the day that I could live comfortably with either result. By being close to the action, speaking with people on all sides of the issue, I understood their position and appreciated our differences.

I was ready to coexist.