Montreal, my home

I’m from Montreal,                                            

 it’s my home.

I have lived in this city my whole life.

I love it,

and, 

sometimes I hate it.

When I’m hating it, I think anywhere would be better.

This usually happens when I read about,

 the corrupt municipal administration,

and the lack of political will.

I often despair of our future,

 crumbling infrastructures and ever increasing taxes.

It’s easy to find things I dislike,

garbage, noise, slippery sidewalks, idiot disputes about language.

But, then I walk down Ste-Catherine and feel the wind in my hair.

I hear people speaking French and English and Russian and Arab and Spanish

and many which I could not possibly identify.

The smell of grease and Szechuan pepper and hot dogs and donuts and coffee,

and I feel happy and hungry and home.

In an ever changing world,    

 it’s nice to have our spots,                      

 places that never seem to change.

You get older and places disappear, no more Eaton’s or Ben’s or St-Lawrence Bakery.

But, Schwartz’s is still there and Steer Burger and for years I have been eating falafel from Basha’s

and Tum yum soup from Soupes et Nouilles(Soups and Noodles).

When it’s sweltering hot,

 I like to sit in Dominion Square and look up at the Sun Life building,

Montreal’s first skyscraper and feel the slight breeze caused by the large buildings.

This is not a good spot in November.

I love my city and it’s Five Roses Farine sign and it’s graffitied ugly silos.

Urban rust and patina have always been charming and familiar to my eye.

Beautiful churches and ugly snack bars with orange Formica.

The old port and the Molson brewery.

East/West.

The Main.        

The croonch sound of  footsteps on snow on a really cold night.      

I love them all.

The view from the mountain and the view from the Bonaventure autoroute.

You drink beer in any bar until 3 sometimes 4 in the morning,

 and buy beer at the Dépanneur (corner store) until 11 pm.

I have never seen a Moose or a Mountie dressed in red serge ridding a horse.

I live in  a modern and decrepit North American city.

A French and multicultural city.

It’s home.

What else can I say?

Later girls

BB                                             

Published by

Bookish Butch

I am a bookish butch in my very early fifties. I live in Montréal and always have. I used to run a small used bookstore. Reading keeps me sane. My latest jiggie is photography, book project in the works, living the dream

One thought on “Montreal, my home”

  1. From one Montrealer to another: VIVE MONTRÉAL! Beautiful post. Made me want to rent a Bixi Bike and ride the city’s wet streets. Some of my favorite places: McGill Campus (always feel like I’m glimpsing another era when I stand at its gates), Parc Lafontaine in the Fall (my mother grew up there and though I could never afford to live by it, I still claim it as mine!), Parc Street (the Mile-End stretch, fabulous little shops and for any cook, this part of town rocks), Le Château Saint-Ambroise (inspired the Shilts Manor in my novel Suite Nineteen) and of course, the Jean-Talon market (La petite Italie, can you smell those roasted espresso beans?). I’ve lived in quite a few interesting North American cities, but none as poetic as our home town. 🙂

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