So when I hear someone refer to the place as “Mohn-pel-IEH,” my ears perk up.
Walking down the main corridor of the Statehouse on Monday afternoon, I saw Lt. Gov. David Zuckerman having a chat with a young couple who were pushing a baby stroller. I stood at a respectable distance, not wanting to intrude, but I could hear enough to suspect that these weren’t locals.
They were bemused, in a good way, by their casual encounter with the man a heartbeat from the governorship.
“I was impressed,” said Fili. “He said he was the lieutenant governor!”
“And also a farmer, an organic farmer,” noted Dupas.
This chance encounter resulted from something of a whim. The vacationers were on their way from Boston to Montréal (pronounced Mohn-ray-AHL, thank you very much) when they took a side trip through Montpelier. “We thought we could make a stop and visit the Statehouse,” Dupas said.
“We were really impressed that it’s open to the public and you’re free to enter and to visit,” said Fili. “It’s really great to feel free to visit such an institution.”
So what did Zuckerman talk with them about? Farming?
“Elections,” said Dupas. “Because we have an election right now in France.”
I felt like something of a rube for my pronunciations of “Montréal” and “Montpelier,” but I made a nice comeback with my actual knowledge of the election: a presidential runoff between centrist Emmanuel Macron and Marine Le Pen of the far-right Front National.
“Bravo,” said Dupas. “So you want to know what [Zuckerman] said to us exactly?”
Certainement.
“He said, ‘Please don’t do what we did.’”
Meaning, from Zuckerman’s point of view, don’t elect a rabble-rousing, immigrant-bashing politician.
I asked if they would get home in time to cast ballots in the election, scheduled for Sunday.
“No, we have people who will vote for us,” Fili said.
“We have this system, procuration,” Dupas explained. “You can have someone else vote for you if you prepare things correctly.”
“We each have a friend voting for us,” added Fili.
Cool.
It was time for Fili and Dupas to leave; their parking meter was about to expire, and I’d hate for a pair of friendly tourists to get stuck with a ticket as a memento. I gave them a business card — my first-ever international contact! — so they could look up this story online.
“Thank you very much,” said Dupas, pushing the stroller through the Statehouse’s formidable doors. “We’ll check your website.”
Say it with me, everybody: Only in Vermont.
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How on earth is this a news story and not just small talk John Walters had during his day? Seriously, doesn’t Seven Days have editors who can tell the difference even if Walters can’t?
Amazing story. A reporter talks to a tourist from FRANCE in our state house. WOW
Geez folks. If you don’t like cute anecdotes, don’t read cute anecdotes.
And I’d say if its existence so rubs you the wrong way that you have to comment on what a waste of space it is, maybe you should consider what a waste of space commenting on it amounts to, n’est-ce pas?
Are there still French speaking native Vermonters in rural Vermont? Back in the ’70’s I slid into a ditch on a backwoods dirt road near Waitsfield Vermont. I found a farmhouse with a French speaking family who fed me dinner before rescuing my car. I referred to them as French Canadians but was told that they were French Vermonters. I tried to find their house again but never could. Vive Vermont.