Ophélie Lechat

As montrealers will know, my university’s lecturers have been on strike since February.  This being my last semester, I had arranged my internship, my journalistic analysis class and my 6-credit television class so that I finished in June with enough time and money to make it through the winter without losing my sanity.  I took on less work than usual, preparing myself for the grueling 20-hour-a-week TV class.

Now the lecturers have voted to continue the strike for a third time.

I think it’s time to do the humane thing and euthanize this semester.  What are the options? At this point, it’s either we stay in school ’till July, preventing us from taking summer courses (Université de Montréal only has one summer semester), have non-union workers teach the courses (unsatisfactory at best), or resume the courses (with eight classes left) in the fall.

I want my Bachelor’s (it’s about time!), but not this way.  Let’s just forget it and start fresh in the fall.  Without commenting on the issues at stake, can you imagine the classroom atmosphere if classes were to start again this week?

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On a completely different note, I treated myself to my first Boustan experience.  Until now, the name “Boustan” only brought back memories of a Sacred Writings class with Boustan Hirji.  Now the name evokes a delicious chicken shawarma with pickled cabbage and garlic sauce.  Montreal has a million Lebanese places, but this (and the spot in the food court at Alexis-Nihon, trust me and have the potatoes with extra garlic sauce) deserves the fame.  As a bonus, there is a picture by the cash of the owner sitting down with Trudeau père, circa 1998.  Awesome.