We'll drive up to a slight hill and look down over the city. For a while, we'll be quite and just reflect on the lake, lying like a lover's slip on the floor of the valley. "How lovely," I'll say. "This reminds me of living in CA." And she'll sigh, and say, "Not that again."
In the morning we'll drive across the border into Canada. I'll reflect on the fact that I don't remember my hair being that short before we went to Italy. She'll say, "I like your hair short." And I'll mumble something about Samson. We'll listen to this song.
S will say, "I like that one," because she likes everything that is upbeat. At the border I'll make jokes about driving right past security and how long it will take them to catch up to us on horse back. "They have cars," she'll say. At the border I'll be unfailingly polite and have the vague feeling that I've done something wrong for no good reason.
As we drive into Montreal I'll comment about how I love the architecture and how in certain spots you can see the remains of the exterior wall that was built in the 17th century. I love the remains of old exterior walls. It's a failing. After a while, we'll have a light argument about where to park and just where our hotel is, but I won't really care. I'm like a fish spawning, on a mission from God.
We'll walk upstairs past the slightly crazy lady who runs our auberge. Who, sent me a video of her answering the door with a parrot on her shoulder and then further video of her regaling guests with guitar and song. Which, sounds awesome, but you're working within a certain demographic who really enjoys pirates. We'll say things like Auberge and merci a thousand times because they are the only words we know. We'll both think that they landlady is a little strange but at first we'll say, "She's so friendly. Isn't she friendly?" to reassure ourselves. S will start putting stuff down, and I'll become impatient to get out the door. "We just got here," she'll say.
By mid-afternoon we'll stumble out the door in the Mont-Royal neighborhood and hotfoot it to the metro. "I'm pregnant," she'll say. "Slow down."
"That just means you've got four legs to walk with," I'll answer.
The first day we'll head out to the Olympic Stadium. We'll comment on how high the diving board really is, and secretly be a little less impressed by the corkscrew dives they pulled off years ago. I'll say, remember that story, "Forever Overhead," that was a good one.
From there we'll go on to the Biodome, all the while trying to avoid the mobs of children. "I'm hungry." She'll say. "The baby's hungry." We'll putter off to a side street and eat something cheap and quick. "Let's get back to the biodome," I'll say. In the biodome we'll be happy, traveling through various climates and commenting on how cute the penguins are. On the first day of the trip your feet don't hurt at all.
From there we'll go to the botanic gardens. "I don't know the names of anything," I'll lament.
S: "You know some things. Remember that time you were able to name ten trees?"
M: I know. But I had to work really hard. Is that a dogwood?
S: No.
After wandering around we'll take a train ride through the gardens. I'll start talking about how the United States has horrible trains, and how it's the best way to travel.
M: We should have come by train.
S: Shhh. We're here now.
I'll ask her to tell me more about the insectarium.
S: I don't feel like paying to see giant roaches.
M: We're here.
In the evening we'll go to some restaurant in our neighborhood in an old Victorian. We'll enjoy the food, and pass on the wine. We'll wonder how late we have to stay out to avoid the singing. At 8:39 we'll walk back home, down streets lined by trees and old houses. In the house, Celine will be jamming away on the piano with a parrot singing back up on her shoulder.
M: It's good to be somewhere else.
olympic stadium and biodome..great!!
ReplyDeletelake george also impressive..
landlady with a parrot and home to pirates
a little strange...thats why the room was cheap!!
home at 9-what happened to the party animal??