Montreal Part Deux

For a few years now, I've been hearing about Montreal. Different friends have gone there and come back raving about the city. Everyone I've ever talked to, in fact, has had nothing but good things to say. All this buildup was persuasive enough to make Montreal Oliver's and my first long weekend trip when we moved to Canada. That was over Easter weekend. We had a wonderful time. It was cold and a little quiet, but we still saw enough of the city's flair to be impressed.

This past weekend-ish, we went back for a second trip (factoid: anyone applying for a green card, from anywhere in Canada, has to personally come to Montreal for their interview. Some people have to fly from Vancouver for this! Can you imagine? I never thought I'd call myself "lucky" to do a six-hour drive), and it was a hundred times better than our first trip. I have officially fallen in love with Montreal.

This time we got to see the city in full bloom. The weather was (frighteningly) beautiful and everyone seemed to be out drinking coffee on the patio of some sidewalk cafe. The atmosphere was incredible.

And actually, that's what makes Montreal, well, Montreal. It's atmosphere. This isn't a city full of Kodak-recommended picture spots, of people posing in front of tall buildings or famous statues. For me, Montreal is in the details. It's the staircases that run outside every house, it's the French names of the local businesses (My favorite was "Le Pitou Propre". It was across the street from our B & B - a pet services store of some sort... my French is nonexistent), it's the carelessly fashionable women that walk Frenchly down the street. Seriously, is there a badly dressed woman in Montreal? I didn't see one (I also, mercifully, didn't have much access to a mirror). Even when it looks like they've crawled out of bed, dragged a comb half-heartedly through their hair and pulled a wrinkled dress off the floor, these women look fantastic!

Style just seems to be everywhere, effortlessly. Like our Bed & Breakfast. It was a rowhouse right in the heart of Plateau Mont Royal, a trendy, artsy neighborhood. Nothing was overdone... in fact, it looked almost as though nothing had been "done" at all, if that makes any sense. The furnishings were all fabulously, mismatchedly perfect, and could have come from the trendy vintage store that sells bureaus for $1500, or a flea market. Similarly, the breakfast dishes were this fantastic mishmash of vintage patterns. Our hostess might have had a series of really lucky days at a church basement sale, or she might have scoured the hippest Paris shops for the perfect look. I'm betting on the former, because her she seemed completely unaware of her enviable sense of style.

Not to go on and on about her, but I was amazed that in the two weekends I have stayed in her establishment, I have never seen her wear anything but the same black t-shirt and relaxed-fit jeans. But she looks so cool in them! How does she do this? Additionally, she mentioned to us one morning that she is trying to teach herself the piano. She has this old upright in her dining room, covered in perfectly messy piles of books on music history and theory, and she said she tries to practice one hour a day. Sure enough, while drifting off for my pre-dinner nap I heard her practicing. She was playing something really simple, like a fancy version of Hot Cross Buns. And somehow, it sounded really stylish! Okay, maybe I'm starting to sound crazy now.

The only downside of this understated, ubiquitous style: it's hard to photograph. As much as I would love to call myself an artist, my photos usually include a loved one and a monument of some sort. I've included a couple pictures here... I hope they can give you the faintest sense of what I'm talking about. Probably not, though.