Arrival in Montreal (Day 2)

The second day of our latest and greatest roadtrip adventure saw the party of 10 split into two parts. My parents took the scenic route up Highway 2 through the islands of Lake Champlain, and everyone else took the more direct freeway into Canada. Through unplanned but excellent timing, we all met up at the rest area just north of the border, where we were confronted by this conundrum.

 It does seem rather counterintuitive, does it not? Confusingly played, Canada.

We found our way into Montréal after taking the wrong highway/road/bridge a time or two, checked into the charmingly named L'Auberge Hôtel de Montréal Manoir Ville-Marie, our little inn located inside an old post office. Definitely not a typical hotel, it leans toward a B&B with its mismatched furnishings and quaint vibe. Voilà, le bureau de poste.

 

 In French, "auberge" means "inn." In my head, auberge and aubergine are interchangeable. Here is a picture of our eggplant.

We all got back in the car to go downtown. We passed this delightful place (Mr. Fix-it) with the most endearing sign I think I've ever seen: "Nous restaurons tout - sauf les cœurs brisés!" or "We restore everything - except broken hearts!" 

 

Too bad the only needing fixing IS my heart...

My sister-in-law did the driving. My brother did the navigating. I'm pretty sure neither of them particularly appreciated how entertaining I found this, but... storytime. 

  

 Steering-wheel-white-knuckle-clench-map-of-white-hot-rage

My SIL and I are the only people in the family with what might generously be referred to as a working knowledge of the French language. I have been to France twice, and although my comprehension isn't the greatest, I can generally get around on my own, read a fair bit, and order food. Naturally, French is the primary language of Québec. As my brother was trying to navigate the streets of Montréal, he read the maps to his wife phonetically, and she corrected him under her breath by muttering the proper pronunciation of whichever streetname/attraction/exit he'd just named. This ongoing exchange (which lasted the entire stay in Canada) did not help us get anywhere faster, but it sure was funny from the backseat.

Allez poutine!

I have never been to French Canada before. Also, I get as excited about trying local food as my brother does about local beer. In Québec, naturally I was all about poutine.

Really... what could be better? Poutine and beer!

For the uninitiated: poutine is French fries served with heaps of cheese curds and brown gravy (and occasionally additional toppings, such as smoked meat for my brother in Montréal). It's served everywhere from restaurants to street carts, and I think it's delightful.

Lil brother ready to chow down on poutine with smoked meat

This one was special because we tried it at Maison du Bifthèque Main Deli in Montréal. The city is famous for its Hebraic delis, or charcuteries. Some of us quite literally ate piles of smoked meat for dinner, others sandwiches, and Isaac had it with poutine.   

So I was really excited. Don't judge.

It may be 5000kcal per serving (or any other number someone has made up to scare people), but I climbed to the top of a waterfall for this. A big waterfall. 

Poutine at the top of Chute-Montmorency

Certainly not the only thing we ate in Québec, but I think it deserves a post of its own.


If you find yourself curious about other culinary bastardizations in French Canada, I recommend EpicMealTime. Hilarious, based in Montréal and pretty much awesome in every way.

Airport lounges are great for people watching

I am sitting in JFK International right now. It's 4:30am Oregon time.

I have decided that I am sufficiently well-traveled by now to say that I hate flying east. I think it's stupid when you board a red-eye and less than five hours later, your obnoxious seatmate is melting your retinas because apparently he just has to peer into the murky grey depths of Hudson

I get to be cranky. I had four hours of interrupted, creaky sleep in the middle seat and they didn't feed me.

My brother and I were deposited at the airport last night by the fabulous B of DB Photography, but only after an evening spent at my favorite Portland biercafé, Belmont Station. As a friend once commented, "It's a little overwhelming at first, then you accept it and sink into giddy joy." Indeed. The beer there is awesome.

Our family vacation this year is to collect my sister from her school near Toronto and toodle around the east coast together for a few days. We are convening in Vermont today and crossing the border tomorrow. It will be my first time in Québec. I can't wait to try my French out on people again... it's been nearly two years. I'm hoping that I get enough time every day to blog this trip on the fly, but then, I realize I'm notoriously horrible at doing that. I blame my perfectionist nature.