"Dearest cousin how are you? In a fit of madness after having an atrocious day at work I was sitting at the pool and decided to delete all my social media from my phone. This trip could not come soon enough as I need a break. A break from everything.
I am currently sitting in the departure lounge sipping a nice hot velvety coffee awaiting my plane to Montreal.
Unplugging and escaping for a few days is just what I need.
I will be back on the snapchat soon enough. I didn't want you to worry.
Sincerely, Adam."
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| Morrissey In Montreal - spring 2019 |
The airline starts its performance, probably its 5th of the day so far and we passengers fall into line and board the plane. The stress of traveling now morphs into excitement. My Kindle and my earbuds are at the ready and I buckle up and settle into what will be my seat for the foreseeable future.
I must be getting old as flying is becoming more difficult. Well, the landings are becoming more difficult. I'm not hungover, yet I feel the sweats and nausea overwhelm my body as we approach the runway. Overhead air nozzles are on full blast and all I can think about is being sea-sick this upcoming sailing season.
We are only on the ground for a brief stopover - passengers depart and new ones embark. I am to remain seated. Just enough time to pull my now somewhat moist t-shirt away from skin and attempt to air myself out and cool down.
I continue reading the Rum Diaries and take a really good dent out of it. It is a style of writing I've really enjoyed recently and have been reading more and more of it. I can't wait to finish it so I can watch the movie adaptation.
My friend and his son meet me at the gate and even though it has been some time since we've shared the same company, it has been as if no time has gone by at all. It's been 7 years since my last visit to Montreal and it's like I've only been away a few weeks.
The construction on the free-ways is hellish to say the least. Detours have sprung up recently within the last few hours according to Davey and we are forced into an impromptu scenic tour of the city. I don't know why but everything is starting to look the same when it comes to big metro centres. Certain blocks feel like Toronto, others Calgary. What makes Montreal stand out? The signs are all French, but other than that, big cities are just that - big cities. Every big city I've been to could just be part of one massive metropolis and the Torontos and Montreals are just suburbs of each other. I guess flying does that to you. The disconnect of time and space condensing days of travel to mere hours.
Note to self - get out in my car for a road trip this summer!
Dinner and Loft Party
We retreat to the sanctity of the suburbs, wash up and head for the subway to go deep into the city. Ah - the underground. This is exciting. I've always gotten a kick out of riding the tubes. These bowels give life to the concrete jungle above and I feel like a white blood cell, full of energy.
We re-surface in Little Italy. It's early in the evening yet all the restaurants are jam packed. I am certainly going to get some walking in on this trip. A fancy establishment guarded by two men in red puffy jackets doesen't intimidate us and we manage to snag the last 2 person table. It's meant to be. The room is dark with red neon. Pretty young waitresses dressed in plunging neck lines and tight skirts are serving at break neck speed. A wood fired pizza oven in the corner is burning like an engine on a steam liner and the soundtrack is on point - Sade, Gauthier and That's Amore. The place is packed and I get this feeling like I belong.
We inhale two pizzas and 4 Italian beers. It's the perfect amount of food and drink. An espresso tops off the meal and I'm am so happy to be spending this time with my old friend.
The flat party is only blocks away and we head through the streets with some beers under our arms. This place is very much the same as it was the last time I visited. It is in my mind the ultimate cool. It's big with its high ceilings and very dark. Nightfall has come and the giant windows that wrap around the space allow for sweeping vistas of the city lights and buildings. Purple and pink LED lights adorn the ceiling's perimeter and an amazing custom made sound system is kicking out some awesome electronic music.
I feel so hip and almost feel like a fake at the same time. It's sometimes a shock to the ego when you meet new people in a strange land and they open your eyes to new possibilities. The current resident of the flat is an engineer who works for a new company building something out of "Back To The Future". They are literally taking garbage and breaking it down into some sort of clean burning carbon. It's awe inspiring.
The culture shock is happening - not language or customs, but academia. I'm somewhat envious of the amount of education at this gathering. These are very inspiring people and I feel like I'm part of a movie and there's a scene of intelligentsia's discussing what's wrong with the world who have actual answers to solve it. Not opinions like what I've heard from most of the coffee shop soapboxes, but actual scholastic brilliant minds. It's a trip for certain.
I'm introduced to some more people and easily slide into conversations pertaining to music and the time just flies by. We all take turns putting this fancy sound system through its paces and we all take notes of all the new artists and bands we've subjected each other to. It's a great time and a bunch of us leave to go home.
The metro is amazing. I really hate that back home our public transportation system is shit. It's very difficult to indulge yourself and arrange to get home somehow without paying an arm and a leg for a cab.
We spend the afternoon downtown starting off with lunch at a dumpling restaurant. I've never had dumplings, have been told by many how great they are, and now I finally get to try some. I'm wary at their sight anticipating the taste and texture and concerned it may not be to my liking. But that's part of the adventure. Suffice it to say - AMAZING!.
I try to order some coffees at the Starbucks down the street afterwards. I attempt to use the native language. It's passable and I'm feeling a little grain of pride as my French is not god-awful. The barista smiles and then asks me something I can't comprehend. I'm found out. It's embarrassing. But I'm fine with some self-deprecating humor and we all have a good chuckle. He kindly continues in English.
Dave and I part ways with his family and the two of us solider up to the top of the mountain that is centered in the city. I love this place. It is populated with thousands of people walking, jogging, biking and yet there is so much space and room. The leaves aren't budding yet and everything is a shade of brown. I love it. It is my new found favourite colour palette. Such a warm contrast to the months of white and blue of winter. The sun is just warm enough and it is an ideal day for a stroll.
We reach the top, a massive stone courtyard high above the the sky scrapers. Old world meets new. The view is breath taking as we look down upon the concrete and glass from our foothold up here in nature. It is bustling with people up here and it is all very European.
Ten kilometres of walking according to my phone and we head for the market in the old part of the city and grab some chops for the BBQ. Dinner is superb and I take notes on some key ingredients to try at home. We settle in for episode 3 of "Game of Thrones" and call it a day.
Day 3 - Hemingway and Morrissey
It feels so great to sleep in. My accommodations are cocoon-like and the comforter has me trapped. This is pure bliss. It's dark and cozy but I eventually become restless and want to get on with the day.
One of my gracious hosts is up and we drink coffee and discuss the political climate of our dear country and how to best solve it. I confirm my travel directions as I will be going it alone on the somewhat intimidating Montreal Metro system. My plans are simple. I wish to find a bouloungier or an authentic cafe with a patio and sip coffee. I want to experience a sense of being one with this city.
I adore the journal collections of Hemingway in Immovable Feast. Specifically the entries when he was young penniless. Autumn days were spent simply sipping spirits on a terrace somewhere in France. It is spring here in Montreal and it's close enough for me. Le Premiere Boisson is perfect. It's a full on deli and cafe with a patio facing up the hill. Nestled in the side of the hill is a daunting cathedral with the largest greened copper dome I have ever seen. It looks like something out of Myst.
It's chilly but I'm dressed appropriately and the streets are a bustle with citizens. For the amount of people milling about I am surprisingly peaceful. It is so pleasant to just sit and eavesdrop on fellow terrace occupants. It's all 'en Francais' and I don't understand any of it. I feel like I am far away from home and find a strange comfort in just existing. A foreigner in a foreign land.
I finish up the last vestige of my soup bowl sized cafe latte and jump back on the bus to meet up with my friend who should be finishing up his day's work. We are to meet another friend and have dinner then make our way to the main event of my little adventure.
LeTelus
The night life is now in full swing. A hoard of men and women all dressed in some manner of black are making their way to the old theater. We can see the brightly lit digital marquee - our hero's face glowing in electric LEDs beckons the masses to the entrance of what will be our church for the next few hours. I am down right giddy. I have never seen such an old theater re-furbished for rock concerts. It's the coolest thing I've ever seen and will no doubt be one of the best concerts I will ever witness.
The crowd demographic is all adults - but they're all so cool! I feel so at home with these people. My friends and I could possibly be the youngest here. There is a reserved excitement about it all - no one is stupidly drunk and no one is making a scene. Everyone is cordial. Cordially and reservedly drinking their beers and spirits. Classy. Yes that's the word. Cool and classy. Maybe this is the exception as this is Morrissey we're all here to see.
There's a special type of comradery among this fan base. Morrissey/The Smiths is almost a religion. You either love or hate the crooner. We are all obviously lovers and we all have a healthy respect for each other and it's evident on the capacity filled floor in front of the stage. Everyone is making sure they aren't being suffocated and making sure they aren't blocking someone else's view. We aren't crushed together like sardines.
The concert starts and the man we all came to see hits the stage to a thunderous applause and 'Suedehead' is the first song. It sets the tone for the rest of the evening. I am starstruck and completely alive. This legend I have only ever seen pictures and video of is right in front of me. The synergy is a wave of joy that drowns me. I am almost brought to tears as the set-list unearths all my teenage emotions that have been buried under decades of adult life. I am set free and this whole experience has an effect on me that I don't wish to loose.
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