One Week Later….

Here's proof that I am truly here.  Celia took this photo after a long walk up the mountain yesterday.  It was a hot and brilliant day, with lots of other people out and about.  Kids, dogs, ice cream vendors,
tourists and locals, cyclists, runners and sloggers like us.

In Montreal, there are 
pianos placed randomly 
here and there, available
to anyone who can play, 
or who wants to play 
whether they know how 
or not.
This particular piano is 
at the lookout on top of 
Mt. Royal, and while 
we were there, there 
were 3 different people
who sat down to play. 
People are free to listen 
or not, for as long as 
they want.  Celia and I 
ate popsicles, and my sister sat with us in the sunshine.

Here is the red door to the apartment where I 
am staying with my friend Linda, in Mile End.
It is a beautiful place, light and spacious, with
art and objets d'art placed with care and love
throughout.  We are on the third floor of a 
typical Montreal walk-up, and the 'hood is 
dynamic and lively, with lots of restaurants,
cafes, and a fabulous yoga studio nearby.
Best is that my sister is around the corner,
and my daughter just a short bus ride away.








Everyone is riding bicycles, usually without helmets, and on these crazy
busy streets - I don't get it.  Bicycle theft is very common, and people
find different ways to keep their bikes safe.

I can't imagine
carrying my bike
up two flights
of stairs, though 
I did it when I 
lived here 24 
years ago, without
a second thought.






One of my favourite cafes          

is the Navarino Bakery on
Park Avenue.  It's been 
there a long time and has
gone through a few 
changes.  Celia and I had 
coffee there the other 
day; my sister and I had 
stopped by a few days
earlier.  The pastries are 
good, the clientele are 
interesting, and the coffee is strong.




I love Montreal.  I feel connected to this city in a way that I think must be related 
to birthplace.  I am comfortable in my own skin here.  I feel at home.  Something 
that is very different from Vancouver is that people here truly look at one another.  
There is a kind of wonderful curiosity in this looking, as though they are interested 
in you, in each other.  It is a mirroring, and I can feel all through my body as I walk 
down the street "HERE I AM!!"

                               Old Montreal, just after a thunderstorm.

                                 
                               The antique shop in St. Henri.

                     Another piano, in the Gay Village.  The guy standing
                     up on the left was singing along - an impromptu version
                     of a Beatles song - and I loved the coming together of
                     street people, youth, father and son, and the police.  On
                     bicycles.