We are not the same anymore

I remember Lac Mercier.

Gábor Lakatos, a Hungarian who slept in the bottom bunk often told me: "Today I'm going to swim in Lac Mercier". Even though Gábor had the spirit of a child and he was incapable of lying, this time he was wrong. Lac Mercier was not a lake, Lac Mercier was sheer freedom. The kind of place that cleanses you, like a baptismal font ready to forgive you. The truth is that no matter what you did, Lac Mercier always offered you a second chance.

On those days I used to work as a dishwasher in a summer camp for Jewish kids. I ended up there, in Mont-Tremblant, after a long stay in Québec City. I took the job mainly because I was running out of money and living in rural Québec seemed an interesting idea. During the interview, the camp's director told me over the phone: "There's a beautiful lake".

She was wrong, too.

The summer camp laid right next to Lac Mercier, which only made work even harder, since the kitchen had an amazing view of it. Whenever I was on a break I went swimming, and if we had enough time, Chris, the Mexican janitor and I took a couple of kayaks in search of cold beers across the lake. From the distance, the summer camp looked quiet, it didn't seem to be the home of 350 hungry Jewish children.

A fresh start.

One night after work, the whole kitchen staff were racing on everything we had at hand: kayaks, paddle boards, paddle boats. Probably the first competition ever to take place in Lac Mercier. But night is mysterious and unpredictable. That night, I was paddling to buy myself a six pack of beer without knowing that I was actually hunting auroras. Night is full of possibilities; that's why the best things always happen at night.

After two hours chatting on the other side of Lac Mercier, I turned my head back as if something was calling me. Hypnotized, I put my beer on a bench and started to run directly toward the lake while shouting in my mother tongue: ¡Son las luces del norte! For minutes, I stopped being myself, or maybe I was being more myself, or both.

The water of Lac Mercier was up to my waist and the sky displayed the northern lights. I was surrounded by magic. I stood still there until the image faded away, until my heartbeat went back to normal.

That night I learned two things. First, that paddle boats are extremely slow racing vessels . And second, that Lac Mercier really allows people to start over: I would never be the same again.