There was much to see and enjoy about Montréal beyond…or despite…the Grand Prix. It was certainly the largest city that we toured, and it was a bit of an adjustment from all the green, peaceful, leisureliness of all the prior ports. But it was very walkable and pretty easy to navigate despite all the Frenchness.
About two lifetimes ago, I took three and a half years of French in high school. Since then, the closest I have come to having to dust it off has been a couple trips to Italy where the languages are close enough that I was able to decipher things somewhat. I expected more Frenchness in Québec City, but that is more of a tourist town (of the most quaint and lovely variety) so English was happily spoken everywhere we went. Montréal, however, seemed much more bent on being Little France. There were English signs and English speakers here and there, but it all seemed very reluctant and begrudging. And so I dug deep into my 1980s memory banks for conjugations and plurals and possessives and attempted to translate Montréal. Overall, bien.
It was a surprise to us, but our pre-paid transfer from the cruise ship to our hotel was actually a two hour city tour. Aside from being starving, we appreciated the surprise since we had intended on doing that later anyway. So we got to see downtown and old churches and cheap colleges and fancy houses and Mont Royal, the mountain that pops up like a zit in the middle of the very flat Montréal metro. It is a beautiful park and affords nice views. The tour guide acknowledged, though, that to some of us the 700 foot elevation probably would not qualify Mont Royal as a mountain. Rob and I looked at each other and laughed; Woodhaven sits at 725ft and we most certainly live on a hill, not a mountain.
The tour also took us out to Olympic Park (or, more likely, Le Parc Olympique), site of the 1976 Olympics. I remembered Nadia Comaneci from those Olympics, that’s about it. I definitely did not remember the very strange stadium they built for the games that had what was one of the first attempts at a retractable roof. It still stands, with its third roof. The retracting technology never worked, and a second attempt with a different material was even less successful. So now this dome thing with a spiky roof and a cement tower leaning over it stands to remind us how clunky the future looked thirty years ago.
After the tour, we walked to Old Town (Vieux-Montréal) and had lunch at a café that oozed hipness and Frenchness. Looking back, it was an odd choice for us – or rather me, since I was the one that dragged us in there. The menu was entirely in French and I did my best to remember the words for onions, ham, mushrooms, and pickles. The music was loud, the patrons were űber chic, and we were relieved to be seated in the back corner so we could watch but not participate. We ended up with two sandwiches and three drinks. Close enough.
We also checked out “the underground.” Montréal has some pretty nasty winters (the tour guide was mentioning inches of snow that went into three digits) so they have connected downtown buildings with an underground maze of hallways and corridors. The hallways and corridors are filled with restaurants and shops and services. It was ingenious, really, with the metro system just another level down. You really could get all around the area without going outside if you wanted to.
On our second day, we decided to venture out and give the public transit a try. With a map and a hint from the English speaking concierge at our hotel, we managed to find La Banquise and sample a local delicacy called les poutines.
Les poutines were described in our guide book as being a plate of French fries smothered in gravy and cheese curds. Honestly, that sounded a little gross, even to me. But one of my quests while traveling is to sample the local cuisine. And if that’s cheese curds and gravy, well, then, so be it.
La Banquise is apparently THE place to go for les poutines, as they have 25 varieties to choose from. They start with "Poutine Classique" and then add all sorts of stuff as you wish. I decided to play it safe and ordered the “Poutine Hawaii 5.0” (poutine with ham and pineapple). Rob elected for a twofer and got the “Poutine Obélix” which added smoked meat. We had read about Montréal’s smoked meat, being described as a cross between pastrami and corned beef. Had we been in Montréal one more day, we would have sought out a smoked meat sandwich at Schwartz’s. But since we had limited stomach space, getting the smoked meat on a poutine was inspired brilliance.
Much to my surprise, les poutines, ils sont magnifiques! The gravy was flavorful but not lumpy, and the cheese curds added a squeaky texture that oddly balanced the softness of the fries. We were offered ketchup and amazed ourselves by declining it. That’s how good this heart attack on a plate was. I wish I had been able to finish my helping, but more, I wish we had a La Banquise in Portland. I truly have been thinking about les poutines ever since we left that quirky little restaurant. And the smoked meat? Tasty. Very much as described but with more clove flavor than either pastrami or corned beef. It was also sliced much thinner than I was expecting.
By the time we were ready to leave Montréal the next morning, we were ready to leave. We had walked probably 10 miles over two days and had shared the town with several hundred thousand other tourists. Plus, the rain came back and well, if we want rain we may as well go home.
And so we are home, where it is raining. We had a great trip, better than we expected. We just wanted to get away and see something new. Neither of us had ever really thought about touring Nova Scotia or Prince Edward Island. Québec City and Montréal are what determined our itinerary and they were fun, interesting, international towns that capped off a surprisingly scenic trip. We will find ourselves in that part of the world again someday, with a car and more time.
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