Travel Blog: Montreal, Day 1
I took a course last semester on Canada’s pre-Confederation history. It’s the kind of material we all agonized over in the eighth grade, but revisiting the subject at a university level made the topics much more engaging. After all, there’s a certain whitewashing that occurs with any history lesson when it’s being prepared for consumption by minors.
I’ll confess I loved the course—surprising, considering I despised Canadian history when I was actually forced to take it at that age. Since then, however, I’ve been fascinated by the places behind the stories that make up our nation’s past.
My parents have always wanted to see Eastern Canada, having only been as far as Ottawa in the past, and even then, they went without me, because, well, it’s difficult to participate in a vacation that predates one’s own birth. It was convenient for me, then, that their desires happened to coincide with my current interests, and only natural that we should make a journey through some of Canada’s oldest locales.
It’s my first day in Montreal, and I can already confirm that all the positive things people say about its beauty and whimsy are true. Around the same time I was forced to study the battle of the Plains of Abraham for the first time, I had little desire to ever visit Quebec, but needless to say, I’m glad I’ve had a change of heart. Montreal is a delight for tourist and historian alike, full of architectural variety akin to the city’s cultural pastiche.
We’re staying in Le Guilleret, a boutique inn on a cobblestone street in a centuries-old building in the heart of Vieux Montreal (the old town). While the neighbourhood is full of the inevitable scattering of tourist traps and overpriced souvenir shops, the expected modernisms barely detract from the authenticity of Rue St-Vincent and the surrounding area.
The first stop on our weekend agenda was the must-see La Bisilisque Notre Dame. This is the church that everyone knows when Montreal is mentioned. Celine Dion was married here, and Pavorotti did a Christmas special here, but beyond musical kitsch, the building is a stunning example of neo-Gothic cathredral architecture. According to The Rough Guide to Canada, the architect James O’Donnel converted to Catholocism in order to be buried beneath it—no small feat for an Irish Protestant in Catholic-centric Montreal.
I’ve seen my share of impressive churches before, but I can’t emphasize enough just how grandiose Notre Dame is. The twin spires project into the sky much like many basilicas of its type, but it’s too true that the exterior is a mere tease of the wonder that lies inside.
The unknowing visitor is alarmingly greeted by rows upon rows of beautifully hand-carved pews, towering pillars and statuary adorned with iron and gold, and the coup de grace of the whole ensemble, an extravagant neo-Gothic altar of most leviathan proportions. Natural light floods through the stained glass windows, illuminating the chamber with bright hues of blue, accented by the brass and mahogany throughout. It’s a brilliant use of space and shadow to allow just the right amount of light in. I can only imagine what the famous festival of lights within must look like.
After acquiring the tourist’s version of a local transit pass, we hopped the Metro over to Ilé Sainte-Hélène—a situation I’ll admit a civic-minded geek like me was all too happy to experience and compare to transit back in Edmonton. [The layout and service coverage of the subway is league ahead of humble Edmonton's, but then, I imagine the city's layout and civil coffers both dwarf our meek prairie town's capabilities.] This island in the middle of the St. Lawrence is one of two that make up Jean-Drapeau Parc, and was the centre of the city’s Expo 67 hubbub. It’s home to the Six Flags-sponsored La Ronde theme park (which I didn’t visit), the upscale Helene Champlain restaurant (which was closed), and the geodesic BioSphere (which was charging more than I felt like paying to visit an Environment Canada urban nature preserve). In all, it’s a pleasant place for an afternoon stroll, but next time I’ll be sure to bring a family with children, or at very least, a picnic basket.
With lunch time quickly approaching, I felt it appropriate to take the Metro up to Avenue du Mont Royal and the closest St-Viateur Bagel shop, which came highly recommended from co-worker Lisa Lunn. The entire avenue was packed for endless blocks in either direction with an unexpected but inviting street festival, which made the trek to the bagel shop all the more exciting.
Though I sometimes find Lisa’s gastronomic tastes can sway a bit on the eclectic side compared to my usual diet, she’s never steered me wrong, and today was no exception. St-Viateur has the tastiest selection of gourmet bagels I’ve yet to find, complete with refreshing home-made iced tea and pitchers of sangria all around. Just as Lisa told me, I’m now making this a must-stop recommendation for anyone else spending some time in Montreal.
The day hasn’t been all historical tourism and chic cafes, however. In my travels, I managed to capture a few chuckle-worthy moments that added some true flavour to the trip:
Anonymous isn’t bound to the Anglo-centric forums of 4chan, it seems. A group of /b/tards stage another protest against Scientology that no one outside of the Internet understands.
Among the many street vendors on Mont Royal, this booth offered the “original” Cham Wow, “as seen on TV” (or closest French translation). I wonder if it works as good as Vince’s version.
High above the street across from St-Viateur’s, a renegade poet of the avant-braun movement begins his day by informing the peasants below that he has no time or respect for those bound by vulgar shirt-wearing laws.
More updates to follow in the coming days. I’ll do my best to make future posts less verbose.
