Return to Canada - Part Two: Montreal

As I mentioned earlier, it had been 15 years since I left Montreal.
I was worried my Quebecois would fail to return to me and I'd be condemned to a repetitive order of coffee and croissant. Don't get me wrong - one could live on good pastry alone but I craved so many different things that only Montreal could offer.
Along with my hesitation to open my mouth and speak I had spent weeks mentally walking around the city following old routes in my head. Would I remember where Rue Ste Catherine intersects with Rue St-Laurent? Plus, this was the first time I was bringing Rob to see the city where I came from. There was a lot I wanted to show him in a limited amount of time as he was called back to Atlanta for work a few days earlier than planned.

With only first class tickets left on the train from Toronto to Montreal on VIA Rail we boarded the 9:30am Monday morning train set to enjoy the five hour ride through the Canadian country side heading East.










We arrived in the afternoon and I flopped right back into French in the taxi headed towards our hotel. Hotel Le Relais Lyonnais sits on St-Denis street in the Latin Quarter, a predominantly French neighborhood. Our old friend Martin (a Francophone from Montreal who has since migrated to California) advised us to get a true provincial experience by staying in this area. He was so right.













Thirsty from our travel we walked down St-Denis to an old haunt of mine, St-Sulpice. This was a private home that transformed into a three story pub complete with back garden, fountain and lots of room to enjoy a pint. It had grown quite a bit since the last time I was there. The garden in the back was gone, replaced with hundreds of tables and chairs for maximum capacity. We sat out front and watched foot traffic and listened to the language I missed hearing so much. To my amazement I understood every word of each passing conversation.



















The weather was very hot and humid and though watching the city walk by could have been a perfect afternoon I felt like I had to show Rob as much as possible in the next two and a half days.
Onward to my old neighborhood in Notre Dame de Grace.
West of the neighborhood we were staying in, we took the Metro (subway) from Berri-UQAM to Lionel Groulx then transferred to my old stop at Vendome.






















Note: Montreal has their public transport system dialed in. Underground train (on wheels for a quieter ride) every 3 minutes and buses above ground every 7 minutes or so. Amazing. This is what U.S. cities should be imitating especially with the ever growing gas prices being what they are.












Back above ground and the temperature had grown even hotter.
Walked up Marlowe to Sherbrooke Street and there on the corner of Northcliffe was the first place I lived in the city. That's my building with the red awning. Below that used to be a cafe that I conveniently worked at. Now it's a trendy hair salon. Did I really expect the cafe to still be there? Maybe a little.



















I won't lie, the neighborhood looked as if it had taken a hit. There was random graffiti. The bakery down the street where I used to by a special treat of sweet cheese bagels was gone. No more Jamaican patty storefront (crushing). The video store was still there and the depanneur (corner store) had changed hands to a new owner who I stopped to chat with about the area.

A few streets away on Girouard was the second home I lived in. It looked exactly the same.
I loved that little place with the French door that opened onto the balcony off my bedroom. I remember falling asleep watching the snow come down in the winter - silent and heavy.










My only bad memory there was my roommate who used to steal my clothes even though I was at least three sizes smaller than her. I never did figure out what she did with them.

When we saw my parents the prior weekend in Toronto I asked them for the street name my sister Kim and I grew up on with them back in the 70's. Dad gave me approximate directions to Rue Marcil also in Notre Dame de Grace. Sweaty and determined, we walked on and found it (get this) - one street away from my old place on Girouard.



















I have a lot of history in that neighborhood. Loves found, loves lost, school, work, old friends, new friends, formulating the plan to get to Seattle to meet the whole other half of my family - it all happened there.

I'd been talking about rotisserie chicken for a long time and the best place for this Quebecois meal was right down the street. This place has been serving up good food since the 1940's. Blessed air conditioning.













Um, this photo is just for Adi. We share a fascination of roosters or as we say in French 'le coq'...













After the romp around N.D.G. we made our way back to St-Denis and walked north for quite a ways well into the night, stopping at local eateries and brasseries. It was fabulous to be back in this city.

Albert, the owner of the hotel was very encouraging to me. He spoke French to me and I answered in return. It is exciting to pull forward all the words and phrases that sat unused for over a decade. He explained that he had accidentally double-booked our room on the last scheduled night in the city. He offered us free breakfast for the duration of our trip at his restaurant downstairs and me a room at a prestigious hotel in Old Montreal for Friday night, Hotel St-Paul (Rob was scheduled to return to Atlanta on Wednesday). I accepted - why not stay in another area of the city?



















Croissant, fruit and coffee for me.
Eggs, bacon, fruit, baguette and coffee for Rob. It was very good.

My plan for Tuesday was to show Rob Old Montreal - the oldest part of Canada. Parliament used to be located in Montreal before it moved to the nation's capital Ottawa. Old Montreal is full of art galleries, souvenir shops and my favorite architecture in the city. It is full of tourists in the summer but it is also a residential area with huge renovated lofts that are in proximity to Le Vieux Port (Old Port).
The weather promised to be just as hot and humid as the day before so we had a plan to stop frequently for cold drinks, guzzle water and peruse shops with air conditioning along the way.

























I should point out that when I lived in Montreal in the early 90's I was to put it plainly; quite broke.
Coming back with means in which to enjoy myself I got to eat in restaurants I'd walked by a million times, eat Gelato when I wanted to and pay the entrance fee to see the inside of the Notre-Dame Basilica (1830). A dusty quiet settled over everyone who walked through the front doors.













More to tell, but in the next post.