Greeting in French can be friendly and awkward

Where to from here -

There has never been a shortage of obvious differences between my Island home of Newfoundland and my adopted island home of Montreal. The very basic ones consisting of language and population usually garner the most attention. They speak French, we speak English, they are many while we are few.

I've learned over the years to adapt to these differences, take comfort in them and enjoy the perks associated with both. In Montreal, I am never forced to overhear the mundane gossip of strangers walking in front of me because, frankly, I can't understand most of what they say.

At home, I can converse with everyone, making daily exchanges at the grocery store or post office efficiently and stress-free. In Montreal, I can get lost in the crowds while at home, I can walk old roads crowded by nothing but my own thoughts.

There are joys to be found in both environments and the major differences colour my everyday experiences home and away, but there is one thing I have found virtually impossible to understand about our French neighbours. I have attempted, still attempt to master this particular aspect of the Quebecois, decidedly French culture, but sadly, I find myself misstepping at every turn. I would gladly conjugate irregular verbs in isolation indefinitely if only I could avoid this always confusing gesture of greeting and departure, the confounding and socially awkward, double kiss.

Which, for those of you who haven't been subjected to this anxiety-riddled affair, isn't much of a kiss at all. It is a gesture, starting (if you can remember) with the right cheek whereby you kiss the cheek but actually don't, rather embracing the air and doing the movement of appearing to kiss instead. You do this when you arrive and when you leave no matter the gender, familiarity or risk of spreading disease.

The whole ordeal caused me a great amount of grief during my three years at theatre school and it will not be missed after returning to the Anglo world, though I fear transition periods will be uncomfortable. There's social suicide involved in both transition sectors and I will start by explaining my experience with first learning the gesture upon arriving in Montreal.

Myself and my obese, orange cat, Doug, arrived in Montreal during the summer of 2006. We lived in a small, one-bedroom apartment at first and had little contact with the natives, instead choosing to surround ourselves with transplanted Newfoundlanders. I have found over the years that this is often the case with Newfoundlanders, a common desire to enclose oneself in a group where everyone responds to "what's on da go" and feels strongly about the seal hunt.

This worked out well until my first week of school when suddenly random people, classmates and staff members from across the country, started kissing me. I chalked it up to a theatre school thing, minded my own business and tried to keep my distance from the touchy-feely arts types I met in the halls. After multiple encounters where my resistance to the double kiss had landed me in proper full on lip contact (which occurs when someone tries to kiss your cheek but you try to avoid and mouth to mouth action ensues) I decided that I would rather the fake air kissing business to getting personal with complete strangers.

So, I started double kissing everyone, sometimes successfully passing myself off as a person in the know and sometimes starting on the left and thus contributing to the awkward English giggle and apology we all conquer within days of arriving in Quebec. The one that often accompanies the "I'm so sorry, I don't speak French."

I mean, my gawd, why are we so sorry? Most of us often had no opportunity to learn the language, French immersion say what? But I thought I had it somewhat under control toward the end of first year, even if each mwah mwah went against my Protestant upbringing in rural Newfoundland. I was un bec-ing everyone, yes sir.

Now my parents didn't quite know what was on the go when I double cheeked them at the Deer Lake airport. My parents don't often make comments on my somewhat unusual behaviour; at this point my family has become quite accepting of some of my quirks. They just shrug their shoulders for the most part and say "that's just Meg."

So the double kissing went on for a couple of days after I returned home that first year. No big deal. It was only after I twice mwahed a girl from high school in the rotunda of the St. Anthony hospital that it occurred to me. What am I doing? Actually, I should clarify, it was more or less the expression on the girl's face that caused me to rethink my affectionate greeting. A mix of "what the" and "you're weirder now than you were in high school" spread across my female acquaintance's face.

We were never really friends as teenagers and my odd display during this Christmas party amongst nurses and doctors had confirmed all of her previous concerns about my character. Great! Super, double kissing has now infected my meet and greet behaviour to the point where I am embarrassing myself in multiple provinces. I try to explain that I've been in Montreal where everyone hugs everyone but she doesn't care in much the same way she didn't care so many years ago. Ouch.

I've become so flustered by the greeting that I've double air kissed my boyfriend and full on kissed a friend's husband in the confusion, leaving everyone feeling...well, oddly familiar. Once I went in to double kiss an editor. On grad day I proclaimed myself a "no hug zone." I find the whole business rather exhausting, why would I hug you? I barely know you. And also, slightly vulnerable being so close to someone you barely know, smelling tuna melt on their breath. Eek. Seems nightmarish to me.

Or maybe I'm just uptight. Maybe I have no concept of human connection and joie de vie. To be honest I don't care much either way, I've already decided my course of action. I'm bringing the handshake back!

(Megan Coles is a writer originally from Savage Cove. She can be reached at megcoles@gmail.com).