Yesterday, Saturday 13th, was my first full day in Montréal in this very special and unexpected trip. I had arrived on Friday evening after what seemed like an almost interminable day of travelling. Leaving my house at 05.30 BST I finally arrived in my holiday rental unit at 19.00 Montréal time, that's eighteen and a half hours of travelling, sitting about in airports and standing in airport queues.
The queue at the highly automated immigration/covid check was lengthy, but well managed by staff. The queue for a taxi was about 200m long, and was handled with an unusual but effective mix of calmness towards the passengers and manic hysteria directed towards the taxi drivers, with much screaming and waving of arms. It was mildly entertaining, and a diversion from the actual wait. Because of the two queues and the time spent in them, my plan to drop my baggage off at my lodgings and then find my way to a concert space in Laval were thwarted. And thus the unexpected opportunity to see Luce Dufault came to nought.
I had reserved my accommodation through Airbnb, and whilst I have used the system successfully in Russia, this was my first time in Canada. I had spent many, many hours trying to find somewhere suitable, a month or so ago it looked like I was going to have to reserve somewhere some distance from my optimum location in Montréal. And then a new property popped up at a very reasonable price. I was a bit wary, because the booking for a similar apartment had fallen through, as had another. But this booking had gone smoothly and all instructions on finding the place and getting into it had come through on time. Aside from a wasted minute or two trying unsuccessfully to find the correct key to unlock an already unlocked exterior door, all went well, and I am happy to report that the rental unit far exceeded my expectations for the price.
Once inside, and having decided to abort the expedition to Laval, it was decided that some foraging for food and refreshments was required.
"It was decided" - sounds like there was a meeting. There's only you there!
Oh no, not you again. It has been a while.
Whose fault is that, infrequent blogger?
To continue, I needed to buy some essentials and I knew of one supermarché where I could get them, even if it meant a swift trip on the Métro.
This supermarché wasn't located conveniently close to Bar Brasserie BENELUX, was it?
Well, yes, actually it was. But I did do the essentials shop first. And I have to say that I was shocked by the price of some of those essentials - ouch. Cheese is very expensive here.
And what about the milk? Tell them about the milk.
I was about to. As for the milk, it wasn't just the price, it was finding the milk. I don't mean I couldn't find it, just that there was so much on offer that I couldn't find just ordinary whole milk. There was almond milk, oat milk, lactose-free milk, milk with this taken out, milk with that taken out. At one point I had circled the entire store twice, searching for milk, just milk, to pour on my Weetabix next morning. There were two large fridge sections full of milk alternatives, milk derivatives and milk with added this and added that. Just give me some */#*/ milk!
I'm sorry I raised the subject. I mean, come on it's still Friday evening and you haven't even got to BENELUX yet!
So, having guessed at one milk type being the one I wanted. I left Provigo and walked round the corner to that haven of sanity and good beer that is BENELUX. Aahh, I installed myself at the bar and ordered a pint of Frida.
Ah, Frida - une bière blanche avec le goût de framboises (sounds better in French). A slightly sour but very refreshing creation, which had first passed my lips in May.
Actually, quite a lot of it passed your lips, I seem to remember, and at 6%!
C'est vrai, I can't deny it. But on this occasion only one pint began its journey through my person. I was too tired for more.
I dare say it wouldn't be the last, during the coming days.
If I knew where you were I would nod towards you in agreement. Having left BENELUX I headed back to the Métro station at Place des Arts, but was waylaid by the sound of music, lights and smoke rising from the stage at the end of the place. It seems that there is a celebration of Autochtone culture and music this weekend and for longer. More of this later, but here are a few photos that capture the mood of the evening. I didn't stay too long because I was dead on my feet.
And then a swift Métro ride to Atwater, and a five minute walk back to the apartment, unpacking, and sleep...perchance to dream.
