French North America - Parts 1 and 2

I have now been to Canada 4 times including a horribly unnecessary layover at Toronto thanks to United Airlines and their allergy to punctuality.  This is the first time I have been to Canada for more than a long weekend, the previous visits were long weekends in 2001 and 2002. The catalyst for this trip was a friend of mine from Spain, emigrating to Quebec City, a city I had not visited but was on my list of 'get there eventually' places.

The trip began with my British Airways flight from London on the new 787 Dreamliner. Most people know I am a nerd about things like ships and planes and was excited to fly on this new airliner, it was interesting and was as quiet as people had said but the BA interior already looked shabby and dark so the plane seemed 5 years old, not 2.  The BA crew were indifferent and snarky but I enjoyed the inflight movies and the meal wasn't bad, the old lady sitting next to me wanted none of hers so offered me her extras. Canadian immigration was as frosty as the American INS, not welcoming and I clearly told the agent that I didn't want to live in Canada despite their handsome PM (I didn't mention Justin Trudeau, the agent seemed as if a sense of humour was not a requirement of Canadian immigration agents).  I was in the centre of Montreal by 9pm local time (2am British time) and raring to go. I explore Rue St Catherine, found a place to eat, then headed back to the hotel and my king size bed.  

Foggy morning in Montreal

Montreal is a great city, a mix of North American and French and they have an underground city linking almost all the main downtown sites, I love it, it is like a giant underground mall and is necessary in winter due to cold and deep snow. It is all very civilized. I explored, or rather, refamiliarized myself with downtown Montreal, did some shopping, practiced by French badly which led to everyone replying in perfect, americanised English. I have now been mistaken for Australian 3 times on this trip, to Canadians my accent doesn't sound English! Midday Thursday I took the train to Quebec city, a 3.5 hour journey through the Canadian countryside (I was more excited than I should have been, it was endless strip malls, farms, signs and more farms and not an Elk to be seen).  Canadian trains are comfortable but not fast. I dread to think how long it takes to travel from Quebec to Vancouver etc.  Days and days with only crisps and beer available in the cafe care! Hell!

I arrived in Quebec at 430pm local time and the temperature difference was a shocker, in Montreal that morning I had worn a t-shirt and needed my sunglasses, in Quebec I needed my sledge, long-johns and scarf! It was 3c by the end of the day and the wind blew in from the north pole. My hotel was just a sled ride away from the train station and by 530pm me and Miguel were already exploring (He lives here now and is settled in and speaks the local version of French which sounds to be like French with a strong Liverpool accent). 

Old Quebec City

We explored the city for an hour or so and agreed to meet later for dinner once I could defrost in my hotel room.

April 29th, 2017

I am continuing this blog post on my last day in Canada.  A rainy, misty day in Montreal.  I returned to Montreal on Saturday afternoon and this time I was meeting up with an old friend from Boston and a friend of a friend. Saturday night we ate cheap Vietnamese food on Rue St Catherine then headed to some very dodgy places.

Before I go on about Montreal in more detail I must talk about the local dish, Poutine, a great mix of chips (french fries), gravy and cheese. Yummy. I had it twice in Quebec including home made. I love it, who knew that a culture based on France would come up with a dish perfectly suited to a northern English appetite. 

So the nightlife in Montreal is very varied and has a lot of bars including bars that have strippers, for me it seems an out-of-date piece of unnecessary titillation but the bar we headed to was full though the crowd at the front was more retirement age than stag night crowd. The strippers ranged from skinny college boys to grizzly Adams types who then walked around saying hello to the crowd focusing on the guys on their own, thank god I wasn't.  I am not paying $20 for people to talk to me! 

On Sunday we explored this city a little more and walked quite a lot, we walked from The Saint Joseph's Oratory in the Westmount part of the city right back to downtown a distance of 6km which meant the foot massages we had in Chinatown were well worth it!

More to follow.