We had brought about a million books and enough groceries to last us a week, thinking it would be a long, boring ride, but we spent the whole time looking out the window and it was over before we were ready. After a shower (!) and a breakfast of hummus and bananas
, we pulled into the Montreal station, where we were welcomed by my old buddy, Stu. He took us back to his new condo in Petit Bourgignon. We dropped off our stuff and went out to a favourite old diner in St. Henri, The Greenspot, for a more breakfasty breakfast and to talk about what our families and old friends were up to these days.Then there was the birthday party for my grandfather, Papa, attended by most of my family. It was his ninety-third. We decorated the "tea room" where he lives with balloons and streamers and had a real pleasant little get-together. Well, I guess most of the decorating was done by my niece, Hannah. He got some very thoughtful gifts, had some snacks and cake, and then we saw him back to his suite. Alison and I stayed at my grandmother's condo that night and stayed up late catching up with my sister, Dana.
The rest of the family went home the next day, but we stuck around all week, getting plenty of visits in with both grandparents. Granny Gwen took us out one night to a fancy French restaurant, where we had a long and many-coursed meal of the gourmet variety. We went back to her place again that night. The full lunar eclipse was spectacular from her balcony overlooking the snow-covered park. It was nice to chat with her about life and art over her famous big breakfasts.
A lot of the times with Papa were spent playing Scrabble. I ended up winning all three games we played, but the last one was very close, and would have gone to him if 'qi,' which is definitely a word, had been in his outdated Scrabble Dictionary, thereby allowing him to get rid of that lousy 'Q' at the very end of the game. We were also able to run some errands for him and help clean up a little, plus hear about various distant family members and the good olde dayes. I finally found out that Papa's mild oath, "shaw," which he's been saying all his life, is actually "pshaw," with a silent 'p'. How did I never realize that before?The remainder of the week was either walking around freezing cold Montreal looking for old haunts and/or photo ops, or spending time with Stu and sometimes Cliff, my other old Montreal buddy. We stayed at Stu's place most of the time. He was working a lot at his new software engineering gig, but we were able to spend most evenings with him. I really haven't been in touch with him much over the past decade or so, so it was quite funny and exciting to find that we're still very similar. His bitter hatred of Stuart McLean had me smiling with recognition. Then when he related a lengthy explanation he'd recently given a woman why his feelings about musician Leslie Feist are lukewarm at best, when it was obvious that the response the poor woman had been expecting and probably deserved was more along the lines of, "Like her? I can honestly say without exaggeration that she is the most creative artist living today and I worship her every excretion," well, I just about killed myself laughing.
There was a dinner with Cliff at the Star of India, an old standby that is still exactly the same down to the exotically dressed Caucasian mannequin who watches you eat from her perch over the front door. Another night Stu took us out to a vegetarian restaurant whose delicious Bocaburger comes with an "avalanche" of salsa and which is in such a terrible location its doubtful it'll be anywhere near as successful as it should be. We also went to see the latest Michel Gondry movie, Be Kind, Rewind. Jack Black was very funny in it as the guy whose magnetized brain accidentally erases all the VHS tapes in a terrible old video store in New Jersey. Alison and I really liked
it and Stu tolerated it. Finally, we went for one last breakfast at the Greenspot, meeting up with Cliff who this time brought along his wife, Vitska, and 2-year-old son, Elan. They're a really sweet family and we were glad they were headed toward the Atwater Market too when we went there afterward for some last-minute train snacks and souvenirs.
The ride out of Montreal was not as nice as the one there, but still pretty great. This time our roomette was only half the size, and the cars were all super-modern. You would think that a modern train car would be better than one built in the forties, but actually most of the design decisions they seem to have made in the interim are poor. No fan, for instance, and no sink indents into which the soaps could fit. Plus the ladder up to the upper bunk squeaks all night long. But Ali fixed that problem with a pair of well-placed socks and we enjoyed the views just as much as the first time around. Baie de Chaleur first thing in the morning was particularly spectacular. Especially as Joey, our porter, brought us fresh coffees on waking us up. Before we knew it we were home in the land of ugly architecture and scarce taxicabs and mild temperatures and lovable kittycats.- Andrew
