Despite the fact that the Air Canada people made me check my bag when I am pretty sure it would have fit in those very ample overhead bins, the flight was without incident. I think it was quicker than flying to NY, which doesn't really make sense to me, not that I actually researched the milage or anything. I watched BLINDED BY THE LIGHT which is about a Pakistani teenager growing up in England and finding solace in Bruce Springsteen's music. The guy really exists; the movie ends with pictures of him and "The Boss" meeting over the years.
(I am currently in a cafe close to my Air B&B, and in classic non-American fashion, the coffees are tiny and the breakfasts have cheese in them. I'm eating a rather complicated "grilled cheese" with my americano, because they ran out of croissants. It's got onions in it. I'm eating cooked onions before 10am, which my body thinks is 7am. Don't just me. It's yummy.)
I can't complain; the process to get my bag was painless and even with the long wait for a taxi, I was at my Air B&B earlier than expected. And then I had trouble getting in. So I've been sleeping on the street. Just kidding.
Let's see if after five years I remember how to insert pictures. The internet agrees with me; moving these around is a pain in the ass. Anyway, this is where I'm staying:
It was advertised a one-bedroom. It's essentially a studio with a well-placed wall and a curtain, that I don't use, to separate the "bedroom." That's okay. The woman who owns it has been very responsive, she doesn't have a binder of instructions for me, it's very well located, and clean. One MAJOR problem (and I'll try to get a picture of this discretely later) is that it is on a short street between two short side streets that are both occupied by people who appear to be struggling a lot. There is a very present homeless population here (I know I'm supposed to say "unhoused" but I'm not going to do it until someone gives me a good reason to.) I can't say what the exact deal is with the people who are yelling and screaming outside my third-floor window at night, nor do I know why this particular street necessitates this behavior, but I can say it has affected my sleep and woken me up. Honestly, it's ok, I'm on vacation. But if I lived here it would be troubling. The first night the yelling was in English, I speculate because there is no good French translation for "mother fucker," but last night I was treated to bilingual vitriol. I just looked it up and "mother fucker" in French is "putain de mere," which I must admit, has a certain appeal. But it proves a point, which I will get to later.
My first night was pretty uneventful. I found a food court around the block and got some kind of poke-bowl-type thing and noticed this:
So this place feels pretty familiar :)
Yesterday was my first full day here. I started off at this cafe, where I got a cappuccino, roughly the size of a dixie cup, and a bagel with cream cheese. For those of you who do not know, bagels are a thing in Montreal. I don't know if this was a "good" one but it had cream cheese on it so it was good enough. I do plan to sample a purposefully-good bagel before I leave here.
I walked to Old Montreal which is a 10 minute walk away. Very touristy and cute, cobble stone streets, water, adorable gift shops with the work of local artisans. I did not buy anything because getting excited and dropping a bunch of money day-one is a rookie move.
I stopped in a little store for tourist info and got some FREE maps and had a nice young man help me look up train tickets to Quebec City. I have officially decided I won't be going. It's a lovely 3-hour train ride; I had considered making it a day trip. But it's going to be over $250 Canadian which is over $200 USD. So no.
Speaking of nice young men....
Oh another thing.... I have not used cash since I got here. I tried to use the ATM in the airport and my card got declined. Don't worry, the card is fine (some of you know I recently canceled all my cards after two went missing from my wallet at work.) Anyway, I've charged everything.
Okay, nice young whoever it is: the people here are very nice. I had heard mixed reviews about the good people of Montreal, related to their French sensibility (side note, I once spent two days in Paris and, contrary to stereotype, found the people there not-rude.) I am almost uncomfortable with how nice people here are; perhaps because I always feel a little guilty when I travel to another country and they speak better English than I do, which they are happy to do to accommodate my monoglot self. Although I'm pretty sure they are raised bilingual here. Still, everyone I have encountered has been really sweet and helpful.
This apartment building is famous, because it's weird.
Okay, now onto the point I wanted to make. I am somewhat offended that no one talks about the fact that "poutine" sounds like a euphemism for "vulva." As far as I'm concerned this the elephant in the living room of Montreal. I ate this. I am not sure if this was good poutine. My stance on the subject has always been (and by "always" I mean the last couple of months after I booked this trip) that the gravy is the deciding factor on how the poutine would be received. Fries = good, cheese curd = good, gravy = ?. This gravy was seasoned with something (sage? rosemary? if my mother was here, she'd know) a little too strongly for me. I mean, don't get me wrong, I ate the whole thing. But I will have to sample more to see how representational this poutine is of all poutine.
I am still trying to negotiate the whole eating thing. Yesterday I went to the grocery store and bought three large bottles of water, five nectarines. I have four mini clif bars from home. The food here is not that cheap. Last year Nicole and I went to Berlin and we got huge wraps for six euros. That is not the case here, although the exchange rate to USD does help. Good thing I'm not taking that trip to Quebec City. But it does mean I have to go out to eat. I also have this habit of thinking it's complicated to find food, when the block behind my Air B&B is a long strip of businesses, including restaurants. Still, yesterday I went to a pizza place in my guide book and then ate ice cream, mostly for the extra calories to get me through the night. The pizza was better then it looked.
Also, these pink guys are all over that street.
Last night I finished a book. I have three other novels with me; they're short but it's safe to say I am not going to get to all of them. I have also been knitting a gift for my trainer while I listen to podcasts.
Right now, I'm drinking my second coffee (this time a cappuccino) in this cafe, before I return my laptop to my Air B&B and go back out to a modern art museum and some park-type-place nearby. I'm staying in the downtown area and I don't know if I'll attempt the public transit system, or just do everything on foot. I won't have to figure that out today.
Oh, and I'm also near Chinatown.
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