We are on the bus, leaving Montreal, as I type this. I've never sat in the front of the bus before. The view of the road ahead is impressive. We are driving in a tunnel, under the city.
I have been a bad blogger the past few days, neglecting my duties to describe our fun in this big city. I can't even begin to make up for the lost time - please visit Nik's blog for a better update.
Montréal is no longer a stranger to me. I know various neighbourhoods and the downtown area very well now. The subway stations are friends; the small pleasantries exchanged with waiters and clerks roll easily off my "French as Second Language" tongue. À dieu, Montréal. À la prochaine fois.
Friday night we managed to finally go to Patati Patata, one of the top poutine places in Montreal. I fell in love with the St. Laurent neighbourhood: le Plâteau, the artistes' conclave. It has a very free-flowing, slow-paced spirit, in a Michelle's "just my speed" kind of way. Encroyable that we found it on our last evening. The shops! Les fripperies! Les restaurants et la musique!
Patati Patata serves meat and vegan burgers, cooked on separate grills. There are two tables and two long bars. People line up outside to place orders to go. Luc, one of the two cooks/servers, took our order. "We came all the way from Ottawa to eat here," I joked with him. He took the compliment with grace.
Half our fun came from watching the chefs prepare the meals. A frantic yet graceful dance, the two people behind the counter swerved by each other, taking orders, preparing meals, accepting payment, serving drinks. A tiny place bustling with laughter. A magnet on the fridge read "I heart living". Loving life is very easy at Patati Patata. And the poutine? Magnifique!
Our friend Tom arrived Friday night. We met him at the Gare Centrale. We hopped on the subway to return to le Plâteau. We stopped at a bar with ostrich heads on the wall. We returned to the warm joyeux streets to find ourselves at a live electronic turn-table performance. We stayed for a pitcher, then resumed our walk through the closed-off streets to watch les Québecois celebrate leurs Fête Nationale.
Today we spent at the Musée des Beaus Arts. We saw lots of art. We round a nifty little place for dîner (Zyng) that allowed us to fabricate our own Asian noodle-veggie-protein-sauce creations. Très bon!
And here we are, on the bus. It's very triste that we had to say goodbye to Booga, as well as to our vacation and Montréal. But there are two very eager dogs waiting for us, as well as our usual lives.
Thursday
Vacation: Day (lost count)
On avait commander une litre du vin pour dîner: maintenant je suis un peu drunk.
Pas du photos au jourd'hui, tristement.
Pas du photos au jourd'hui, tristement.
Wednesday
Vacation: Day Five
Tramp tramp tramp.
Giant Beavers are Friendly*
Beware the risen evil Mastadon Skeleton!
Fin
PS: taking photos with my cell phone.
*Heh heh, I said "beavers"!
- Got up late.
- Had breakfast at home base.
- Caught the subway to View Montreal.
- Got a bit lost.
- Cafe for much needed coffee and a little indulgence.
- Went to la Musée de la Pointe-à-Callière. A very cool exhibit about the archaeology of Montreal, from 4000 BCE to 1967.
- Had lunch at an over priced restaurant. Had wine as it was the only beverage served.
- Had gelatto - I practiced my French but the guy misunderstood me and I got the wrong gelatto.
- Went to the Science Museum. The Animals of the Ice Age exhibit was très cool. I didn't know there were giant beavers!
Giant Beavers are Friendly*
Beware the risen evil Mastadon Skeleton!
- While trying to find the Museum of Contemporary Art, we got lost through la Quartier Chinoise, and stumbled through the Jazz Festival being set up.
- Saw the art museum - unlike Nik, I thought the sneakers as art by Brian Jungen was pretty cool.
- Went through the subway rush hour again. But we're subway pros.
Fin
PS: taking photos with my cell phone.
*Heh heh, I said "beavers"!
Tuesday
Vacation: Day Four
After breakfast at home base, we energetically ran for the Outremont subway. First stop: Montreal Biodome.
Children, children everywhere.
And I fell in love with the puffins.
Fat little birds, seemingly happy in everything they do. "Look at me!" exclaimed one, treading in the water. "I'm bathing in the water! This is the coolest thing ever! I can splash! Watch me roll over and kick my feet in the air!" "Over here! Over here! Look at me!" shouted another. "I'm standing on this rock! I'm standing on my tippy-toes, flapping my wings! See how I can clack my beak! Being alive is great: being a puffin is even better!"
We wandered past the Stade Olympique to the Insectarium. The bugs with the long legs and long pinchers were the grossest. There were beautiful scarab beetles, and display cases showing jewellry created from these bugs. But ugh, I really hate tarantulas.
Afterwards we wandered through the Botanical Gardens.
And we wandered some more. That place is huge. We discovered our camera missing - so from now on we are cameraless. Sorry!
Return subway trip through rush hour commuter, an enthusiastic Booga greeted us (perhaps it was a sprig of stolen catnip that made he especially happy), a resting of weary feet, and dinner at a nearby cafe (after trying to find Montreal's best poutine place on the Métro map was too daunting), and more resting with some beer.
Children, children everywhere.
And I fell in love with the puffins.
Fat little birds, seemingly happy in everything they do. "Look at me!" exclaimed one, treading in the water. "I'm bathing in the water! This is the coolest thing ever! I can splash! Watch me roll over and kick my feet in the air!" "Over here! Over here! Look at me!" shouted another. "I'm standing on this rock! I'm standing on my tippy-toes, flapping my wings! See how I can clack my beak! Being alive is great: being a puffin is even better!"
We wandered past the Stade Olympique to the Insectarium. The bugs with the long legs and long pinchers were the grossest. There were beautiful scarab beetles, and display cases showing jewellry created from these bugs. But ugh, I really hate tarantulas.
Afterwards we wandered through the Botanical Gardens.
And we wandered some more. That place is huge. We discovered our camera missing - so from now on we are cameraless. Sorry!
Return subway trip through rush hour commuter, an enthusiastic Booga greeted us (perhaps it was a sprig of stolen catnip that made he especially happy), a resting of weary feet, and dinner at a nearby cafe (after trying to find Montreal's best poutine place on the Métro map was too daunting), and more resting with some beer.
Monday
Vacation: Day Three
J'essaye de parler français. But my horrid accent gives me away every time, and people, in an attempt to be nice, switch to English. However, I am pleased by the amount of French I understand. Signs, announcements, menus, maps, newspapers, Yellow Pages, tourist guides....
Nik announced we were going to climb the Mont this morning, after a breakfast bought at a bustling Boulangerie. Hot, sunny, humid. We went up. And up. Continued streets, up and up and up and up. Sweating, panting, moaning just a bit, while old people in their expensive, air conditioned cars drove past us. We started the visit in the Jewish graveyard. We payed respects to the children who died in an orphanage fire in the early 1900's. We hopped a fence (a justifiable short-cut, I think), and continued the journey up.
We walked over the dead people. Rows upon rows of dead people in silent slumber. Do they really care if we are reverent, quiet, and slow? I think not - as Nik said, graveyards are for the living, not the dead.
The routes through the graveyard was not well marked, so I followed a foot-trail between the head stones to a path leading into the woods. "Do you wanna...?" "Yes, of course!"
We wandered through the Laurentian forest, occasionally spotting a red squirrel. The ground was snowed over in cotton-wood fluff. We descended in the cool green shade of the tree canopy, now whispering to each other. "Where are we? Where will this path lead?"
After all the tramping; after seeing the entire city spread out before us, waiting, inviting: we ended up in Outremont, about 6 blocks from where we started. Ay yi yi.
Groceries. Lunch. Quest for des CAM Hebdo. Subway. Vieu Montréal. Getting lost looking for the Tourist Information Centre. Passe du Musées. (All the while being soaked by a St. Laurent thunder shower.) Coffee at a joint that played Radiohead b-sides.
And then began my quest for sandals.
Montréal, the large mecca of commerce, has fashionable ladies. And, I presumed, these fashionable ladies purchase their fashions in la belle ville. We came across a frou-frou shoe store with a vente de 50%. I didn't find sandals I liked, but I did find these:
The photo, of course, does not do them justice. The shoe guy correctly guessed my shoe size. "I've been selling shoes for twenty years," he said, in a polished Quebecois accent. "I know feet." Sneakered bottoms with a girlish Asian print. I love the colour blue.
After that purchase we tramped some more, and caught the subway back to our temporary home-base during rush hour. People, people, everywhere. Again, I fell in love with Montrealers during our commute underground. Supper, rest, a wash-up, and one last tramp (through Outremont). And here we are, feet tired, feeling somewhat exhausted, looking forward to our day at the museums tomorrow.
À demain!
Nik announced we were going to climb the Mont this morning, after a breakfast bought at a bustling Boulangerie. Hot, sunny, humid. We went up. And up. Continued streets, up and up and up and up. Sweating, panting, moaning just a bit, while old people in their expensive, air conditioned cars drove past us. We started the visit in the Jewish graveyard. We payed respects to the children who died in an orphanage fire in the early 1900's. We hopped a fence (a justifiable short-cut, I think), and continued the journey up.
We walked over the dead people. Rows upon rows of dead people in silent slumber. Do they really care if we are reverent, quiet, and slow? I think not - as Nik said, graveyards are for the living, not the dead.
The routes through the graveyard was not well marked, so I followed a foot-trail between the head stones to a path leading into the woods. "Do you wanna...?" "Yes, of course!"
We wandered through the Laurentian forest, occasionally spotting a red squirrel. The ground was snowed over in cotton-wood fluff. We descended in the cool green shade of the tree canopy, now whispering to each other. "Where are we? Where will this path lead?"
After all the tramping; after seeing the entire city spread out before us, waiting, inviting: we ended up in Outremont, about 6 blocks from where we started. Ay yi yi.
Groceries. Lunch. Quest for des CAM Hebdo. Subway. Vieu Montréal. Getting lost looking for the Tourist Information Centre. Passe du Musées. (All the while being soaked by a St. Laurent thunder shower.) Coffee at a joint that played Radiohead b-sides.
And then began my quest for sandals.
Montréal, the large mecca of commerce, has fashionable ladies. And, I presumed, these fashionable ladies purchase their fashions in la belle ville. We came across a frou-frou shoe store with a vente de 50%. I didn't find sandals I liked, but I did find these:
The photo, of course, does not do them justice. The shoe guy correctly guessed my shoe size. "I've been selling shoes for twenty years," he said, in a polished Quebecois accent. "I know feet." Sneakered bottoms with a girlish Asian print. I love the colour blue.
After that purchase we tramped some more, and caught the subway back to our temporary home-base during rush hour. People, people, everywhere. Again, I fell in love with Montrealers during our commute underground. Supper, rest, a wash-up, and one last tramp (through Outremont). And here we are, feet tired, feeling somewhat exhausted, looking forward to our day at the museums tomorrow.
À demain!
Sunday
Vacation: Day 2
I awoke early, had another cold shower, finished packing. After Fred sleepily woke up, mumbled a few words, he went back to bed. We taxied to the bus station, got onto the bus without incident, and left for Montreal.
Nothing stopped us.
We found the apartment we are renting without problem. It's a very sweet deal - a room with kitchen and bathroom in Outremont. In a funky neighbourhood not dissimilar to the Glebe in Ottawa. Only much, much bigger.
A surprise greeted us: we have a roommate!
According to his name tag, this is Booga the cat. There are two other bedrooms in this place - one is empty, the other is closed off from us by a red curtain. Alex, the guy we're renting the place from, does have two other roommates. We were told that one roommate has moved out; the other is traveling through Europe. So who left this cat here? Who is responsible for his care? Booga seems quite welcoming, and checked out our luggage thoroughly. We topped up his food dish, gave him some treats, and scooped out his kitty litter. He is a happy little guy. He's a nice surprise - as I told Nik, I would pay an extra $50 for the pleasure of having a vacation pet. Cats are so homey. Booga's a welcome addition to our little odd vacation.
The Subway
Ah, taking the subway. Why is the subway more respectable than the bus? Why is it much more fun to descend seemingly deep underground, standing around in a smelly, stuffy cavern with all sorts of people, waiting for the train to roar in loudly with a skirt-raising, hair-blowing wind? And why oh why do men always insist on urinating throughout the stations' floors and stairs?
People watching is half the fun. This guy was twisting and flipping the cube at an insane speed. This is something he's done many times.
After arriving, we searched for a place to eat. Returned to the home base. Napped. Went to the planetarium for a mundane star show. Had a late dinner at a Portuguese restaurant. Again, returned to home base to type, veg, and rest for the night.
Montreal is very hot in a sultry summery way. Women are wearing little bits of clothing, lots of men staring. Motorcycles and convertibles being sported about. Montrealers revel in the warm weather, opening windows to the sun, ignoring their air conditioners, drinking on balconies, lining up for ice cream. There is a different kind of energy flowing here.
Nothing stopped us.
We found the apartment we are renting without problem. It's a very sweet deal - a room with kitchen and bathroom in Outremont. In a funky neighbourhood not dissimilar to the Glebe in Ottawa. Only much, much bigger.
A surprise greeted us: we have a roommate!
According to his name tag, this is Booga the cat. There are two other bedrooms in this place - one is empty, the other is closed off from us by a red curtain. Alex, the guy we're renting the place from, does have two other roommates. We were told that one roommate has moved out; the other is traveling through Europe. So who left this cat here? Who is responsible for his care? Booga seems quite welcoming, and checked out our luggage thoroughly. We topped up his food dish, gave him some treats, and scooped out his kitty litter. He is a happy little guy. He's a nice surprise - as I told Nik, I would pay an extra $50 for the pleasure of having a vacation pet. Cats are so homey. Booga's a welcome addition to our little odd vacation.
The Subway
Ah, taking the subway. Why is the subway more respectable than the bus? Why is it much more fun to descend seemingly deep underground, standing around in a smelly, stuffy cavern with all sorts of people, waiting for the train to roar in loudly with a skirt-raising, hair-blowing wind? And why oh why do men always insist on urinating throughout the stations' floors and stairs?
People watching is half the fun. This guy was twisting and flipping the cube at an insane speed. This is something he's done many times.
After arriving, we searched for a place to eat. Returned to the home base. Napped. Went to the planetarium for a mundane star show. Had a late dinner at a Portuguese restaurant. Again, returned to home base to type, veg, and rest for the night.
Montreal is very hot in a sultry summery way. Women are wearing little bits of clothing, lots of men staring. Motorcycles and convertibles being sported about. Montrealers revel in the warm weather, opening windows to the sun, ignoring their air conditioners, drinking on balconies, lining up for ice cream. There is a different kind of energy flowing here.
Saturday
Vacation: Day 1
Well, to read about my fun-filled start to the day, visit dear Nik's blog. It wasn't the lazy day of sipping lattes in Old Montreal I had hoped for, but at least it wasn't dull.
But, trying ever to be optimistic, here are some positives from today:
The plan is to leave for Montreal in the morning. Let's see what other evil shall befall us!
But, trying ever to be optimistic, here are some positives from today:
- Saw a horsey!
- Went out for lunch and had onion rings!
- Finally got the dehumidifier I've been wanting for a long time.
- Cleaned out a lot of junk from the basement.
- Supported co-op kids by buying three glasses of lemonade (and leaving a generous tip).
- Nik was nice to me in the afternoon.
The plan is to leave for Montreal in the morning. Let's see what other evil shall befall us!
Wednesday
my plans for Montreal
We're vacationing in Montreal next week (something we have been talking about for the past EIGHT YEARS). We're making plans of what to do. I'm going to place the growing list here:
- Gonna eat some Poutine
- Pointe-à-Callière, the Montréal Museum of Archaeology and History (Nik is very eager to go here, ha ha).
- Visit the Biodome
- A meal at Chu Chai, as suggested by Parasol. (Mmmm, food!)
- Museum of Contemporary Art, just to make Nik happy!
Tuesday
ferret frolic
On Sunday, we went to the Ferret Frolic.
There was a costume contest.
The Lone Ranger and Tonto won!
There was a costume contest.
The Lone Ranger and Tonto won!
Sunday
Why I'm glad I'm not an American
Article from Glamour.com
The new lies about women's health
By Brian Alexander
Political groups tell them, the government buys them—and worst of all, your doctor may pass them on to you. Alarmed? You should be.
The new lies about women's health
By Brian Alexander
Political groups tell them, the government buys them—and worst of all, your doctor may pass them on to you. Alarmed? You should be.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)