Montréal 2011 - Robin's Blog reopens

It's 15.23 on 12^th October 2011, and I am sitting in the departure lounge of Terminal 5 at London Heathrow airport. My next flight leaves at 18.05, so there's quite a while to wait. It's just as well that I am one of those people who doesn't mind waiting. Waiting is part of life, so you might as well make the most of it. 

I'm making the most of this period of waiting by beginning my occasional travel blog, and by sitting not too far from the Terminal 5 branch of Wetherspoons, the pub chain which just happens to be holding a beer festival at the moment. My throat, still a little sore, has been lubricated by a pint of Odell's 90 shilling ale, and it seems to be working on my fingers too! Seeing the 90 shilling label, I first, and wrongly, assumed that this was Scottish beer. But no, this ale, light mahogany in colour, with its nutty roasted aroma and assertive caramel malt flavour, with undertones of chocolate, leading to a soft citrus and smooth aroma, with its clean finish and balance to the upfront malt character, originated in Colorado, USA. (This batch was brewed at Caledonian Brewery in Edinburgh.) In the interests of accuracy, I have to tell you that if someone had asked me to describe it, I would have said, “Very nice”. The more elaborate description came from Wetherspoon's Tasting Notes.

Well, back to the travelling part...

Just as well.

Oh no, he's back again.

One's editorial conscience is never far away. You should know that by now.

Yes indeed. So … for those kind readers who may not be aware of my final destination today, it's

“Final Destination”? Good title for a horror film that.

I thought you were my editorial conscience, not a comedian. So, anyway, I'm off to la Belle Province, to Québec, and more specifically to Montréal. I should arrive there at about 20.05 local time, which equates to 01.05 tomorrow for those based in England.

And why, you might ask, am I heading off to Montréal...

The acute accent above the letter e in Montréal, pronounced Monreyal, as opposed to Montreyawl , announces the author's acknowledgement of the predominance of French culture in this fair city.

...for the fourth time in four years, to enjoy music and the company of an expanding group of friends made over those four years. It is bizarre that Québecois music, and initially one québecoise chanteuse, has led to the development of friendships not just in Québec, but also many thousands of miles away in Russia. I have to tell you, gentle readers, that last evening I spent about two hours 'chatting' on Facebook with four wonderful people, two in Québec and two in Russia (one in Volgograd and one in Krasnoyarsk, Siberia). One of those in Québec was Luce Dufault, the aforementioned chanteuse, the others my friends in music Louise, Daria and Iraida. What a wonderful thing, to be able to chat together, although separated by thousands of miles and time differences which meant that Iraida, in Krasnoyarsk, should really have been asleep, whilst Louise and Luce had just finished lunch. One vote for social networking!!

The journey today has gone well, apart from farewells and a faulty metro train. Farewells are not my thing, I'm not very good at them. I took Lucy, my grand-daughter to school, but because of the heavy rain, thought it best not to get the dogs soaked. The dogs … pangs of guilt at leaving them and Julia to look after them whilst working full-time. Barney is an old hand – as soon as the suitcases descend from the loft he knows what is happening, but six month old Fleur isn't used to people going missing for a while. At least she has the advantage of having Uncle Barney to 'look after' her and snuggle up to.

Rather than paying a huge amount for a taxi, I made use of my age and travelled on public transport to the airport – a swift saving of some £35.00.The bus and metro system synchronised well, so I was in very good time at the airport, even though the metro train developed a fault and disgorged its passengers two or three stations before reaching its destination. A replacement arrived within minutes and so I wasn't too inconvenienced.

The wait at Newcastle was OK, punctuated as it was by a cup of coffee and a cheese and ham panini, not to mention a facebook chat with my great-nephew Thomas, in Arcusa, Spain.The flight to Heathrow perfect, landing about three minutes early. So I've just about caught up and am writing in real time!! It is now 16.16. The gates open at 16.50, so I might just go and sample a pint of Kalamazoo Black Silk, an oatmeal stout originating from Michigan, and brewed for the festival at Marston's in Staffordshire. More later, writing I mean, not beer.

Now that's not what he just thought – the possibility of a pint of Sabotage at Brasserie Benelux before bed tonight has passed through his consciousness.

In fact it turned out to be a glass, not a pint, of Alter Novis (I think that's what it said on the blackboard at Benelux), at something approaching 03.00 English time. The flight from Heathrow was largely uneventful, apart from a few bumpy bits as the Boeing 777 encountered various airstreams and headwinds, which delayed arrival by 15 minutes. I had a very interesting conversation with the lady sitting next to me - she had no choice, there were only two seats in that part of the row. She was returning to Montréal from Zambia, where she had been making a film. She had just flown from Lusaka to Johannesburg, and then to London, before joining the trans-Atlantic flight. Made my flight from Newcastle look rather unimpressive!

 Oh, and I did spot ex-Blue Peter, Newsround and Countryfile's presenter John Craven in the World Traveller Plus section. Having passed successfully through immigration control, with nary a mention of Luce Dufault (in-joke for long time readers of this blog, but this officer was a bit scary, to be honest. He didn't look like he enjoyed smiling too much), collected  my suitcase from the baggage carousel, I made it through customs and out into the cold night air. What! It wasn't cold at all - it was 17degC! Waited in the taxi queue and then sped towards the city centre, with my eyes glued not so much to the road or the city, but to the meter which increased at a rate of about 5 cents per second. I thought that it was a fixed rate for the ride into the city, and was beginning to become rather concerned as the meter showed just under 40 dollars as the taxi turned off St.Laurent into Sherbrooke. A few seconds later we pulled up outside the entrance of Appartements Trylon in Rue Ste. Famille. Since my last visit there have been some major refurbishments: the entrance steps are now nice new shiny white marble. My room on the second floor is also refurbished, with new furnishings and a balcony.

So having arrived at the hotel, I decided that the easiest way to let people know I had arrived safely was to put a message on Facebook, which required access to a wi-fi. I couldn't be bothered to set up the netbook, so I simply walked 100 metres to the Brasserie Benelux, which was very busy, people sitting outside on the pavement as well as crowding the bar area. I recognised one or two faces behind the bar, but just ordered a glass of Alter Novis, at 7% and just under seven dollars. It was very pleasant - tasting notes to follow. Messages sent, I returned to my room and collapsed into my bed. (Figuratively speaking.)

It's now 08.00 here in Montréal, 13.00 at home, 17.00 in Volgograd, 20.00 in Krasnoyarsk, and if you want any more world times look them up for yourself.

I'm going to prepare myself for the day ahead, go and find something to eat, and then do things to pass the time until this evening - supper with Sylvain and Louise, and then off to L'Assomption, the Theatre Hector-Charland and Les Filles de Caleb!!

И несколько слов для Дарья и Ираида: сегодня в моем сердце и моей душе ты будешь там со мной,  Луиза и Сильвен - les cinq Lucequetaires!