Ah Montreal, mon ami.  Ma Maison.  Laissez-moi énumérer les manières dont je t’aime.

One day, and I’m fluent in French.  I find myself having to consciously remember (repetitive?) that I am a scant 66 km from the States.  (And yes, we’re doing metric while in Canada.  More on that and my platforms for my 2020 campaign later.  The metric system is  just a start…)  It’s really hard to imagine that this European city exists so close to our oh so very American border.  It’s actually a bit off-putting to the ol’ equilibrium.  The aged architecture, the bike lanes, the cafes, the beautiful neighborhoods, the beautiful people (ie, belle filles), and of course the loose morals.  Yes, Canada I am finding is a land of contradictions on the surface.  It’s a very protectorate state, but then very open when it comes to vices.

Two of my neighbors that I stumbled into after about five minutes of walking are displayed as examples.  I think the general thought here is that we’ll try to protect you from the harm of others and harming yourself and we’ll take care of our ill brethren, but we won’t judge what you do in your own time.  Ah, just another touch of that wonderful European vibe…

This equilibrium disturbance was at its strongest as I stopped into the Basilique Notre Dame in the old section.  Not being one for flowery descriptions, stunning is really the only thing I can come up with.  Overwhelmingly stunning.  Upon entering its all googly boogly knees and wide buggy eyes and you’re no longer in the same reality.  This one must be deep in our imagination.  But, then, after a few minutes of oggling and boggling, I consider life at the time of the building’s erection (I said erection), and I can’t help but think, why?  Is this a god that is made happy by this? And I can’t help but become more than a touch cynical.  This kind of opulence had to be used for one thing – power.  People of Montreal, look what we can do with God’s help.  Look how powerful God is.  Come, repent.  Confess your lousy sins.  Believe.  Bring cash. And I see the handcrafted, ornate confessionals made with the hardest, darkest wood I have seen and my mind goes to all those poor souls confessing away their human indiscretions and using what little they have to buy themselves eternal salvation.  So lucky that God takes cash.  Me, I think I’ll hold onto mine in case there’s a toll at the pearly gates.  Pearls are expensive, you know.  But, hey, it’s a phenomenally beautiful building, and well worth the $5 admittance.  Besides, the money goes towards a good cause – fixing the aging building.

I think part of the crooked (as in bent, angled, not criminal) feeling I have is from the way I got here.  Driving through that nomansland that is Ontario only then to arrive in Europe.  Beam me up Scotty.  I think I may have passed through some time warp / magic door when nature erupted out of nowhere.  That answers the mystery of that lion chasing after that witch I saw…

Yesterday I just spent exploring the city and seeing what there was to see.  It was hot as a mofo, so I wasn’t in the mood to take too many pictures.  Sorry about that.  Last night I did a self-guided tour to the city’s Belgian beer bars / micro-breweries.  I had a chat last night with the woman who writes for montreal.about.com, so she’s pretty much in the know on everything.  Her friend cracked me up at one point.  He has a hearing condition that makes it impossible for him to hear anyone talk in a bar if there’s live music.  “I can’t hear a goddamn thing.  So what do I do?  Leave?  No.  I dance.”  Ha!  So many ways to deal with our problems, and I think he nailed it.

My new favorite word:  eponymous.  My new favorite band name: Bogwater Bitch.  I’m learning so much here.

Ok folks, short and kinda boring post here today.  I’ve absolutely loved this city (even the Irish bars are cool!!) and the people have been incredible, but I am itching to get back on the bike.  The sun is shining, which means it’s going to be hot and humid, sweet, but it’s SO much better than the sky’s fury.  Quebec City is the next stop later today,  which is only 250 km away, so a nice, short ride.  Hoping to take back roads all the way there and avoid the freeway.

Did I mention how much I love my hotel?  Free croissant delivered each morning to the room, noon checkout, and perfect neighborhood.  Traveling tip – aim for the University area.  The old section is nice, and it’s beautiful, and it’s all that, but it’s also full-on touristica.  The U neighborhood has real life.  Off to QC.

My morning stop. Ah, Montreal in the morning...

Oh, and did I mention my brilliant plan to sleep in this morning?  (That’s how I justified staying out until 2:30 am.)  Yea, well, I can no longer sleep past 7am.  When did this happen?  When did I start turning into my father?  This would be a condition I would be incredibly happy with – except for the sleeping part!  How can a man go out all hours of the night if he can’t sleep past 7am?  Hmmm, I’ll be working on this condition…