“Did you get postcards?” my friend yelled while coasting our rental car at the posh shopping mall entrance.

“Nope! And all I could understand was the $ sign at the stores!” I giggled as I hopped in to ease into the passenger seat.

We then drove off to visit one of the 5 National Shrines of Canada, Basilica of Sainte-Anne-de-Beaupré, to cap the 2019 October week-stay in French-speaking Quebec.

Nothing was more glorious than driving on a road flanked by the calm-flowing, emerald green Saint Lawrence River and the contrasting radiant autumn colors – red, purple, gold, bronze, burgundy, and orange on tall, unfettered deciduous trees. The beautiful, sunny day with the blue sky dotted with few puffy clouds could not be more perfect, the rays enhancing the vibrance of the autumn leaves as they filled any available space in the horizon.

“Oh, my God! It is so beautiful!” My leaf-peeping self gushing about the scenery was non-stop, my mouth drying up from gaping.

“Uh huh,” my friend agreed in his usual subdued manner.

We separated ways once we got to the Basilica. He, being religious, to hear mass. I, after 1 Our Father, 3 Hail Marys, and 1 Glory Be with signs of the cross before and after, to survey the shrine for its beauty and significance.

I then went outside to take obligatory selfies, ignoring a busload of curious, diverse, and chattering students on a road trip.

“If only I could understand what they are talking about,” I mused as I continued to walk, relishing the crunching, crackling sound that my steps made on dried leaves and the rustling of the yet-to-fall leaves by the autumn breeze.

Catching my attention along the shrine was a souvenir shop.

“Aha, finally!” I pumped my fists in triumph when I saw a postcard carousel by the entrance. Tired of choosing the best of the many cards, I just closed my eyes and picked any two for close friends in the United States.

“Merci,” I said as I handed Canadian money to the clerk, 1 French word which was easy to remember and pronounce.

However, I stopped at the entrance since I needed stamps.

“Overseas stamps?” I turned to ask, not bothering to know and say what the phrase was in French, thinking that she would understand having encountered many non-French speaking tourists.

“Um…um…pardon?”

“Overseas stamp here,” I replied, pointing on a card where a stamp was supposed to be affixed.

“Ah, oui…McDonald’s,” she said with some rapid, non-understandable French while flailing her right arm towards McDonald’s direction.

Avoiding the discomfort of attempts to clarify what she meant, I just thanked her and left.

“McDonald’s?” I asked myself. “Stamps being sold in there too? Well, this is Canada and they’re probably doing something different.”

Unsure of how to ask for “overseas stamps” at McDonald’s, I googled the French translation as I ambled towards the restaurant.

“Timbre d’outre-mer” popped up with a speaker emoji on my iPhone. I tapped it to listen and to mimic the pronunciation, leaving the French translation frozen on my iPhone screen in case I needed it.

I joined the short line in the order lane as I continued to mouth the pronunciation. The diminutive counter server looked up to take my order.

“Tambah dootray mer, seel voo play,” I said.

She blinked several times, drawing her brows together.

“Tambah dootray mer,” I repeated, the line behind me getting longer, the customers busy with their phones.

She blinked in rapid succession now, the forehead wrinkles getting deeper.

“Tambah dootray mer,” I repeated and this time showing the phrase on my iPhone.

Somewhat appearing frustrated and agitated, she scampered to get some assistance.

“Is she that dumb to not know what an overseas stamp is?” I thought to myself as she disappeared from view.

She came back with someone who appeared to be the manager.

Speaking in broken English, she asked what I wanted.

“Tambah dootray mer,” I said, flashing the phrase on my iPhone.

“Ah, bureau de poste, next door,” she said, pointing towards the direction of the post office.

“The post office is next to McDonald’s – was what the souvenir shop clerk was attempting to tell me!” My mouth opened in a silent scream. “How could I have allowed myself to assume that McDonald’s also sells stamps!” My face turned pale and red as guilt and embarrassment kicked in.

“Merci bocoo!” I exclaimed after collecting myself.

I left the restaurant in a flash, muttering, “I was the ignoramus and not the clerk!”

I shook my head and heaved a sigh as I entered the post office.

While I was placing the stamps on my postcards, I wondered, “Other than the Niagara River serving as a border between the province of Ontario in Canada and the state of New York, USA is not really overseas, correct? Hmm…”

“Typically you,” mumbled my friend.

I caught a faint, mocking smile creeping across his face as I turned my gaze to enjoy the panoramic view of the arresting and picturesque autumn in Quebec, Canada.

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seel voo play = s’il vous plaît (if you please)
bocoo = beaucoup (many or much)