"Paris without the jet lag." Bonjour! Emmelle (French spelling of ML) and I traveled by train from Toronto to Montreal for the second half of our Canadian vacation a couple of weeks ago. You can read Emmelle's detailed take here. My own mishmash of observations:
Montreal is the place to be in eastern Canadia, scratch that, probably all of Canadia. It's a charming city rooted in Canadian history and soaked in French culture. "Rugged elegance" is how I would describe the mental still frames of its landscape, buildings, and people. The city has masterfully married the traditions and architecture of the past (cobblestone streets, beautiful basilicas) and the bright lights of modern big city life. All of these factors add up to a city and region that is neither Canadian nor French; it's something entirely unique - Quebec. Great food, fun atmosphere, pleasant people. We really loved this place.
Mont Royal.
Quebec like Texas. Leading up to the trip, we had read about the separatist movement that has existed in Quebec for years. After four days of passive ethnographic observation, GreensandBrowns officially endorses the secession movement. French is the primary language and the young people receive a consistent dosage of pop culture, music, and fashion from France. Even generations later, the people appear more "European" than elsewhere in North America, a likely result of homogeneous mixing within this region. Northern cities like Quebec City, we were told, are even more "French". Can this really be considered Canadian?
(On top of that, I would like to declare my full support of Texas leaving the US. Let's also give the Bible Belt an autonomous state (even if they don't want it). I also propose American colonization of British Columbia (Vancouver) in exchange for Montana and the Dakotas. Let's get rid of Arizona altogether.)
Notre Dame Basilica.
Gregory Jones. I'll conclude this entry by going back to the beginning.
On our five hour train ride to Montreal, we sat next to a friendly Canadian called Greg. We first met him prior to boarding, and Greg mentioned that this was his first trip to Montreal. He was obviously not a novice traveler however as he carried a heavy duty backpack and wore worn hiking boots. On the train, he revealed that he recently completed a six month backpacking trip through Central America and parts of South America. He would be spending a few more weeks traveling through Canada until reaching Vancouver to spend the rest of the summer at an archaeological dig. He told us his name was Greg, but I think it might have been Dr. Henry Jones, Jr. (sans fedora and whip).
We are probably around the same age. But Young Indy most likely has visited more countries and experienced more cultures than I will in my life's entirety. I envy this, in a healthy way. I have the utmost admiration for life-long travelers. They have seen more colors, experienced more behaviors, immersed themselves in more histories. In my non-humble opinion, guys like Young Indy have a more holistic image of humanity, a better understanding of man's relationship with the earth.
My social constructs mandate life objectives that conflict with Young Indy's capricious lifestyle - stable job and income, stable living situation, a keen eye on making sure present decisions don't compromise future plans (basically the never-ending paper chase). While I suffer through intermittent bouts of wanderlust, they are always deflated by a laundry list of responsibilities. Why can't Emelle and I just take off to some exotic beach, sustained by blue collar work and replenished by an island sun? We can't...because we can't.
But we can weave these temporary excursions tighter into our lives.
Traveling should be a responsibility in itself. I am calling upon myself to experience something more than the comfortable confines of home. The days may be long, but the years are short. And they grow shorter. With Emelle's fingers firmly intertwined in mine, we move forward towards our next adventure.
Merci.
Chocolate soup.
Cuisine: bone marrow, poutine (french fries, cheese curd, and gravy), mash potatoes with caviar
