Montreal, Canada
Montreal got two visits from me on this trip, and honestly it deserved both. There’s something about this city — the French influence, the food, the nightlife — that just works. It feels like a European city that’s been dropped into Canada and told to have a good time.
The first visit was a weekend affair in late April. Friday night set the tone when we got a bit too enthusiastic at the hotel bar, stumbled out for poutine (a recurring theme in Canada), and then made the questionable decision to hit a nightclub. I got far too drunk. The kind of drunk where the next morning you’re piecing the night together like a detective at a crime scene. Not my finest hour, but these things happen.
Saturday was more respectable. We did some shopping along Saint Catherine Street, which is Montreal’s main commercial strip, before heading to Old Montreal for dinner. Old Montreal is genuinely beautiful — cobblestone streets, heritage buildings, the whole European vibe turned up to eleven. That night we went to Tokyo nightclub with some of Rellie’s mates, which was a step up from the previous night’s chaos.
Sunday started at L’Avenue for breakfast, which I’d been told was a must-do. Bec was spectacularly hungover and could barely function, which made the whole meal more entertaining for the rest of us. L’Avenue lived up to the hype though — big portions, creative dishes, and a queue out the door that told you everything you needed to know. In the afternoon we went to Cirque du Soleil, which was incredible. Say what you want about it being touristy, but watching those performers defy gravity and basic human anatomy for two hours is genuinely jaw-dropping. We finished the day at the Mont Royal lookout, where you can see the whole city laid out below you. Perfect way to wrap up the weekend.
I came back to Montreal in June, and this time the city was on another level because it was Grand Prix weekend. I arrived at 4am on a bus (as one does), and despite the sleep deprivation, the energy was immediate. The whole city was buzzing. I went up to the Mont Royal lookout again, then down to Saint Catherine where they had all sorts of Grand Prix events and displays set up.
I met up with Justin in Old Montreal, and we watched some of the first Euro 2012 football matches, which was a nice collision of two sporting worlds. We had drinks at Les 3 Brasseurs and met some lads from the hostel — Ryan, Pete and Lee — who became the crew for the next few days.
The beer festival and a Francophiles music festival were both on at the same time, because apparently Montreal doesn’t do things by halves. Grand Prix day itself was an experience — we spent the entire day out in the sun watching the race, and it was properly cool. Incredibly loud though. The kind of loud where your chest vibrates and you can feel it in your teeth.
The following days we walked down St Denis with Pete and Jords, soaking up the atmosphere of a city still riding the high of race weekend. On the last night, we went to Ma-am Bolduc for one final poutine and spent the evening reminiscing about old days. Montreal — with its late nights, brilliant food, and constant sense that there’s always something happening around the next corner — is the kind of city that makes you want to come back a third time.
