Downtown Montreal
(Note: I actually went back and did a pretty extensive rewrite on that last entry when I realized it was poorly written and not very entertaining. Then my internet connection dropped and I lost it all. So you'll just have to take my word for it --it was really, really awesome. Probably my best writing ever.)
Now...thus far, I have concluded:
1. Montrealites (Montrealers? Montrealians?) really know how to make a good vinaigrette. None of that sweet American-style crap poured over hunks of iceberg. Happy-making!
2. The manpri thrives in Montreal. It's like being on Fire Island, except many of the men sporting them appear to be straight. No, really.
3. Years of practicing my high-school French in the tub ("Ou est la biblotheque?") have done me absolutely no good because when you ask a question in French, they ANSWER you in French. And I seriously have NO idea what they're saying. (Fortunately, I haven’t had to worry about it too much, as every time I say something in French, they say, “What?â€)
4. There are no fat people in Montreal. They are all young, thin and attractive. I suspect that, much like middle-aged women in Buenos Aires, fat Quebecois are hidden away in hot closets wearing suits made of mylar until they sweat it off. Overall, these Canadians are a damn good-looking bunch.
5. Not to be paranoid, but it’s possible that the Quebecois may not love Americans or, frankly, English-speakers. The jury’s still out, as we haven’t been spit on yet, but we're not always the first to get our lattes, either.
Stay tuned for more...