2025 Montreal, QC, Canada

By arrangement, Bob and Lisa pick us up at our house at 3:00pm. We make the straight drive up to Montreal in great time (just about 3½ hours), considering we are at the dawn of Memorial Day weekend. I expected a lot more traffic to Lake George, but was pleasantly surprised at the lack of congestion. We arrive by 6:30 and get checked into the hotel. We are staying at the St. Andre this time as M didn’t have the room configurations we were looking for. For the value, M has been our long standing go to, with the St. Andre next door, our reliable backup. We have been talking for a couple of years now about getting to visit Montreal with Bob and Lisa, but every time it comes up, the conversation ends the exact same way…”we should plan a weekend up there sometime” which seems to work for everyone, until the next time it comes up. At some point this winter it came up again, but while we were sitting at Single Cut talking about going, I actually did one better, after asking them if their Memorial Day weekend was a calendar spot looking to be filled, I used my phone to book a dinner reservation at Joe Beef. It’s a place I have wanted to try for awhile and I could always cancel if the plans fell through. But, for now, this was the closest we had been to making it happen. After that, things started to fall into place. Bob and Lisa had each been to Montreal, but for different reasons and with varying years between then and now. For El and I, and for a city we love to visit, it has been a surprising 8 years (though 6 for me solo as I was passing through for a night on a Def Leppard jaunt in 2019). 

Friday May 23
The parking situation appears to have seen no improvement since the last time, so double parking in front of the hotel while Lisa and I ran in was the best plan of the moment. With crossed fingers we ask if there are any parking spots available in the back of the hotel, but the clerk is a little bit weird about the answer. It felt almost like Jedi mind tricks as he waves his thumb and forefinger, giving us the “these aren’t the parking spaces you are looking for” spiel. I guess it worked, because just after we walked away from the desk with our photo of the directions to the closest parking garage, we were on a mission. We drive around the corner and get parked for the weekend. This is not a city I would want to drive in for a weekend, especially after drinking and having to deal with parking makes me shudder at the thought. Once parked, we grab our gear from the trunk and take it to the room before setting out for the night. It’s about 7:00 and we need food. Bob and Lisa are easy to travel with as they don’t arrive with much, if any, agenda and are quick to say “sure” to anything that is tossed out. So, when it was suggested that we go to Schwartz’s for dinner, they were immediately on board, which makes it good for me. Can you imagine the difference between that vs. suggesting Schwartz’s and having one say they are not in the mood for beef sandwiches and giving other options that need to be considered by the group? It would be hours before any consensus was reached and we would all wind up at McDonald’s with one pouty because they weren’t in the mood for McDonald’s either. I have seen it a hundred times- mostly during my time in Ukraine. But, Bob and Lisa were good travelers in Spain, as here- so I knew we’d be fine. We want to go to Schwartz’s for dinner. No one has eaten since lunch and this is an obvious choice for our first night in town. A quick discussion to choose between walking the 30 minutes or taking public transport for 28 minutes, results in the choice to metro so that we can get our metro cards on our first night in case they offer a 3 day pass at a discount. Turns out they do have a 3 day unlimited pass for about US$20, so we each get one and I expect we will be using it plenty over the weekend. We jump on the metro and take it one stop and catch the bus that has a stop, literally, in front of the restaurant. Even though it is quite busy, we are, by some miracle, seated immediately, order quickly and eating in minutes. Schwartz’s is known for their smoked meat sandwiches. Similar enough to a pastrami or corned beef, the smoke is not overpowering, just pleasantly subtle. It comes on rye bread with a smear of brown mustard. A plate of french fries and some pickled veggies are shared by the group. For my drink I get a Cott noir cerise (black cherry) soda. Everyone enjoys their sandwich and whatever extras they ate along with it. 

It’s busy, so we don’t spend a lot of time, but we are able to plan our next stop, quickly mapping out potential stops to see if any are near our current location. The only one close by is a dive bar called Barfly, which is only a short walk from Schwartz’s. Barfly, is as divey as it gets and I see why it was on my list. There is a hockey game on the TV which has the attention of everyone in the place, except us. We each get a beer and talk about the rest of the night. It’s a good start to our first night in town. We know we need to head back toward the room, though we are good for at least one more stop. After the game ends, before we finish our drinks, a band is setting up and getting ready to play. What was a great seat away from the hockey game, suddenly turns into a front row seat for the band. We agree to wrap up here and get a move on. El maps out the bus/metro route, but once we walk to the next avenue to catch the bus, we realize there is a construction project that is suspending bus service on this street for at least, many of the stops. As we walk, looking for a bus stop that is working, we finally get to the point of no turning back and call the audible to just walk back to the room- stopping should something strike our fancy at this hour on a Friday night, The weather is kind of dreary, but not downpouring. As we walk, checking the map and addresses, we continue directly to Electronique Foufounes, one of my favorite bars that I was planning to hit at least once this trip. Everyone is onboard. We arrive around 9pm and there are plenty of tables available. The music is loud, but not so much that you can’t have a conversation. Everyone enjoys their beer and we chat about tomorrow's plans. Instead of getting another round, we head back to the room with a pitstop at the M Hostel for a night cap. Fortunately, they let us in even though we are not staying there. Unfortunately, there is a band playing. Fortunately, it is not too loud. Unfortunately, they only have like two kinds of beers. Unfortunately they are cash only. Fortunately, I have a small stash of cash. We get a round of Guinness drafts and wind down our first night. Making it back to the room around midnight.

Saturday May 24

By mutual agreement we meet in the lobby at 8am to head out for breakfast. We walk to the metro and take it to the Rosemont stop. It is sprinkling, but we do opt to walk to the St.-Viateur bagel shop (as opposed to figuring out the bus). Shockingly, at 8:45am there is almost no one in the place! You can’t eat here, so people just stop in for their daily needs and leave. You can buy pats of butter and cream cheese as well as other bagel additions, like lox, but you buy everything a la carte and take it to go. I recall the last time El and I did this, we took our bagels to Mont Royal park and had a spontaneous breakfast picnic. We find ourselves walking down the street without bags of bagels considering the same thing, though a picnic in the rain has the charm of a wet blanket.

Luckily, on the same block as the bagel shop, we spot a coffee place called Club Social. I ask El to grab me a coffee while I set up outside under a tree. There is a little seating area, presumably for crowds waiting on inside seating on the sidewalk. Some of the benches are under a tree that is strong enough to dampen the mist of rain falling from above. I pull out my bagel and plastic knife and start to cut the ring methodically to apply my cream cheese. Meanwhile, Bob comes out to tell me that the group is planning to get the coffee to stay. This does not sound like it will work, as the sign on the door clearly says, “no outside food”. I continue my bagel surgery and wait to see if they come out before I am done. Bob returns to tell me that they have asked the owner, who sanctioned our eating our outside food while drinking his coffee. Much of the discussion revolves around what we think of the breakfast and what we want to do next considering the rain, looking to make an indoor stop and deciding what we can push off until tomorrow should the weather improve. We do have dinner reservations tonight at 5pm. Our next stop is The Biosphere. The only metro to the biosphere is the yellow line that ends at our home base of Berri-UQOM. After breakfast we walk back to the metro and make our way to Parc Drapeau, an island in the river.

We don’t know much about the attraction, but we do know that it is $23 for a ticket. It takes us a few minutes to find the entrance, but once we do, we take a few minutes to take in the lobby and looking like the confused tourists we are, we spot a docent, who, in a remarkable business model, follows up the question, “where do we buy tickets?” with “do you know what this place is?” And since we are here to learn about it, we cautiously respond in the negative. He explains that this used to be some sort of botanical garden, zoo, biodiverse exposition. However, today is an art gallery dedicated to the realities of climate change. He goes on to point us to the free sections and tells us we should check out the free exhibits and if we like what we see or want to learn more, then he will be happy to guide us to ticket purchases. We take his advice and half way through the first room, I have made my decision to remain in the lobby area and let anyone who wants to “learn more” continue with all of the time they need. I think I would have preferred the botanical garden which is much closer to the hotel! I did learn that in 1976 there was a fire that effectively destroyed the installation that was here up until then. The dome’s structural skeleton remains today, standing as an example of the resilience of the design. Everyone else chooses to pay the ticket and go through to see more, but as I sit and look at some of my research, I realize that even though we have been using the terms interchangeably, the Biosphere is a very different place from the Biodome, which is what I think I intended to go to. I would rather see the wildlife and nature exhibits than an art gallery. But, if three of the four did the gallery, it was worth coming by.

It’s about noon and we have a few hours until dinner. My thought is to head to the Biodome area in hopes of getting into the Insectarium. I assume others will be onboard, but the other option is to visit the old town and harbour area, with both being ideal. Everyone is onboard with the Insectarium and we head back to the metro to get there. It turns out that it takes us longer to walk from the metro to the Insectarium, than it did t get from Parc Drapeau to the Pie IX stop. It is starting to sprinkle harder, but nothing to slow us down. This too costs $23 for a ticket. We head in and after several rooms that are designed to give you the perspective of being an insect, we realize we have seen very few actual insects though we have our eyes peeled.

There were rooms with 15 foot blades of grass, meant to make you feel small among the grass. There were tunnels designed to make you feel as if inside an ant mound. Even a nook that allowed visitors to walk in and stand, while a projection on the TV outside gave the impression that you had the insect ability to walk on a ceiling. A lot of families were having fun with that one. Once in the next room we see our first live bugs. Only about 8-10 terrariums each housing a different species of bug- each with an interesting characteristic. Half of the fun was trying to find the bug (some had remarkable camouflage). I could have looked at these all day (had there been more than eight of them!) But, the next room…now we’re talking. You see, the benefactor of this Insectarium was a collector of bugs whose personal collection was in the neighborhood of 250,000 specimens. As we entered the next room, a circular room with two levels of wall-hung display cases at eye level. Cumulatively displaying about 1500 different butterflies (and other kinds of bugs, but mostly butterflies)! And when there is this much variety there is potential for amazing curation, and they did a great job! Grouped by colors, or biologic characteristics, the display cases are a way to showcase what makes each species unique and able to thrive evolutionarily. As you can imagine, once we got to this room, the facility’s no photo policy is decidedly thrown out the window. To be able to get a closeup look at bugs that I will surely never see in my lifetime, this opportunity offers a glimpse into the weird, adaptive, and survivability that a small portion of the animal kingdom has developed. Just incredible.

After the exhibit of the butterflies, we move on to the next room, which is a butterfly conservatory. As you enter through a plastic wall curtain, I am struck by how warm it is in here and there are butterflies everywhere. Mostly flitting around or resting on fermenting fruit slices. We spend awhile going through this room. They also have workers walking around to answer questions from the curious. I had a question. As we walk, there is a railing with some people standing and looking over. I make my way to the rail and at first glance, it’s a tree branch. It takes only seconds for your eye to catch the movement on the branch. Then you start to focus on what you’re seeing and it is ants. Thousands and thousands of ants. You see some are walking left, others to the right. Clearly chaos. Until you watch and realize that the ones going left are all following each other in line. Same with the right headed ones- except they appear to be carrying pieces of leaves. The branch is probably 20ft long and our view of it ends as it enters a hole in the wall at the side of the exhibit. Well, that’s a little odd, that where the ants are going and where they are coming from are obscured. However, I realize that I am standing next to an employee and take the opportunity to ask, “what’s behind the wall?” Boy, did I find the right person to ask! Over the course of about the next 10 minutes I get a private question and answer time with her while she tells me everything you’d want to know about what you are seeing. She explains that the ants are actually farmers! There is an entire colony behind the wall and she points to a window where you can look inside the mound an see what looks like crumpled up Kleenex. But it’s not, it is fungus. And the fungus produces food for the ants. But the ants need to feed the fungus so it can provide them food. She takes me to the tree (that the 20ft branch is attached to) and you get to see the worker ants cutting the leaves into pieces that fall to the ground, allowing for different worker ants to pick them up and bring them back to the colony assembly line style. They drop the pieces off in the colony and then turn around and walk the 20ft back to get more leaf. She points out some soldier ants that are larger and have stronger jaws that allow them to attack predators who disturb the process with strong bites. She peppers in fun facts and also answers questions about the butterflies we are surrounded by. She is clearly knowledgeable and makes the visit to the Insectarium that much more interesting. By the time we get through the butterfly conservatory, we are ready to move on.

With our dinner not too far away, and the botanical garden costing another $23, we opt to leisurely make our way towards dinner, maybe to stop and grab a beer in the area if we can. I think we all liked the Insectarium more than we thought we would. There is a festival going on in the Olympic Park this weekend, but as we walk along the park on the sidewalk, we can see some of the buildings and hear the music from the stage. From the sheer volume and kind of music emanating from the stage, we have no need to investigate this festival tomorrow. We make our way back to the metro. Rewind…back to that day at Single Cut when I whipped out my phone and made our dinner reservations. I had searched for and was on the Joe Beef website and clicked on “make a reservation”. I went through the process and when I go to the end, I got a confirmation that read “thank you for your reservation at Liverpool House”. I didn’t think all that much about it as I have seen before when restaurants operate under different names and maybe, since Liverpool House is part of the Joe Beef umbrella, maybe all of the reservations were coordinated by one stop? As we walked towards the restaurant, I start to doubt myself, and think my rationalization may not hold the water it once did. I think I may have failed. We will soon find out, though thankfully, the two restaurants are on the same block and not across town from one another. There’s not really enough time to grab a beer before dinner, and after a failed attempt to find an ATM to kill the time before Joe Beef opens, Bob and I head back to wait in line while El and Lisa head off to a shop of some kind before coming back to meet us. Once we make it to the front of the Joe Beef line, the hostess confirms that our reservations are, in fact, for Liverpool House down the block assuring us their menu is similar as if that would make me feel better as we do the walk of shame past the line of people who were able to make their reservations correctly! Whatever. We will make the best of it. We order a round of cocktails and a plate of fries to split while we drink them. I go with the shrimp appetizer that I think is more weird than good. I opt for the off menu special of Arctic char, which is fine. And chocolate cake for dessert. The food was OK at best and I was disappointed in a lot of it. Which makes me wonder, how similar to Joe Beef is this place? Very similar, I am glad we didn’t pay joe beef prices. Joe Beef it way better, then I fear I will never give it another chance and I may have just dodged a bullet by not eating at the original place. Should’ve gone to Pied Au Cochon again.

Our first post-dinner stop of the night is The Coldroom. I recently saw a list of the “top 100 bars in the world” (which of course, depends solely on the person making the list). Anyway, the list was being teased by releasing rankings 51-100, with the unveiling of the top 50 being reserved for some food festival in the upcoming weeks. Anyway, it makes for casual reading on the bus home from work. As I scrolled, I found no less than three Montreal bars make this author’s list. Though I didn’t see Electronique Foufounes on it (that must have made the top 50?) I did note the three I found and The Coldroom was one. I looked it up to get directions and whatnot. One of the things that caught my eye was that it is a speakeasy style room. Complete with entrance hiding in plain sight, exit that is not the same as the entrance, and a cavern feel below ground. We find the door almost by accident and when the hostess opens the door to help another couple who rang the bell, we confirm this is the spot we are looking for. She has room and returns shortly to bring us into the underground. We are seated and the waiter comes to discuss the menu. You see, you can order any regular drink, but one of the things about this place is that they have a menu of old cocktail recipes that they specialize in. We each order a cocktail based on the ingredients.

My choice was a Grimhilde. Ingredients: gin, green apple, pear, fino sherry, and walnut oil. My first sip was undrinkable…and went downhill from there. It was almost comical, and if I hadn’t paid $17 for it, it would have been laughable. Seeing my reaction, others tried their cocktails, only to have similar experiences. I mean when was the last time you went out to order cocktails and no one at the table wants to drink their order? After a few minutes our waiter comes back to check on us and I assert that I think I might be better suited for an old fashioned as I am considering my original order a complete misstep and am willing to eat the cost just to get something more palatable. He won’t hear of it and insists that if I don’t like my drink, he will gladly replace it, no questions asked. He does explain though, that Canada is not importing US bourbon these days and he could offer me a rye old fashioned- which I won’t drink. I settle on a gin and tonic. No one else speaks up to have their drinks replaced, though I got the feeling they might have wanted to. In fact, while drinkable, the gin and tonic wasn’t that good either- I mean who makes a G&T with lemon?? We enjoyed the experience, but not the drinks. After we pay our bill, they point us to the exit which leads to the street around the corner (they don’t want people leaving to give away their entrance, so exiting through an unmarked door is better in that respect.) Meanwhile, Lisa has been messaging with her local friend at points from asking for recommendations to giving updates to where our travels are finding us. As we leave the Coldroom, our next stop is a spot recommended by her friend called the Wolf and Workman. It is a gastropub just down the street from where we stand. We find ourselves navigating the incredible amount of construction along the way. Cordoned off sidewalks replaced with makeshift plywood walkways winding around sections of ripped up road and dug up sewer pipes. We find the pub with little issue and as we stand at the hostess station waiting our turn, we survey the room, seeing it is quite crowded and we expect not be seated anytime soon. Once the host does come back, confirming we have no reservation, we are offered a table on the patio…though he is quick to point out on this rainy and chilly evening, that it is covered…and heated. We take him up on his offer and are seated in what amounted to an awning-covered courtyard, equipped with heat lamps- though most keep their outerwear at arms length. The awnings are constructed in a way to prevent dripping onto tables. We only get a round of drinks and mine is an old fashioned. It’s OK, though it dawns on me much later that if the first bar wasn’t selling bourbon, was this one? The place is fine, but we don’t really need any food, though they do have a full menu available. After our drinks, we decide to walk a block or so down to the harbor and walk along the esplanade. It is drizzling a little, but the lights of the old city shimmering in the rain drops and the sights along the river make for a nice stroll. The centerpiece of the harbor is the gigantic Ferris wheel that dominates the view. Everyone else seeming indifferent, Lisa instantly becomes a giddy schoolgirl at the thought of taking a ride on the wheel. Her excitement is contagious and before long she has everyone agreeing to join her for the trip. The $23 ticket allows for one, three revolution trip. The four of us get the car to ourselves and we start the 15 minute journey. Unfortunately the rain is collecting on the outside of the cabin glass, and with no way to squeegee it off, the view is quite obscured, which is a little bit of a downer. Seeing all of the downtown lit up as well as the bridges leading into the city makes me think this would be a great view if the windows were cleared. C’est la vie. 

After our third rotation the wheel stops to let us off. With no other plan in this neighborhood we start walking back to the metro to make our way towards the room. At some point, we abandon the metro idea and opt to just walk the rest of the way back. On the way I decide to stop into a spot that looks like a Sbarros or Arby’s to get an order of poutine to go. One of the things we want to do this weekend is to get a taste of a great poutine in the land of fries, gravy, and curds. I like it anytime, and don’t think it could be bad to get some after a few beers, on our way to our last beer of the night at M. Expecting it to be more of a fast food joint with minimal wait time for a simple dish of poutine, it turns out to be a bit longer than I thought. It’s not outrageous, but it just wasn’t the grab and go I hoped for. We make our way back to M, however, upon arrival, the front door is locked! It’s still before midnight, but we mill about for a moment, waiting for someone with a key to go in or come out and let El in who goes to make sure they are still open downstairs and that we can go. We get the thumbs up from the desk and security and head down with our poutine to get one last round for the night. Knowing the issues they were having last night, we start off ordering a round of Guinness. But, we are sadly advised that they don’t even have Guinness tonight and the only thing they are offering is Sleeman Light. I remember from previous trips to Montreal, that Sleeman is undrinkable beer. Wanting to eat the poutine, I order a round of Sleeman Lights…it can't be as bad as my memory serves...could it? Oh yeah. It’s like a cross between Coors Light and Zima. I am pretty sure none of us finished one can. The poutine, while more edible than the beer drinkable, is a bit on the not-as-good side. That doesn’t stop me from eating it, but everyone at least has something to compare to what will hopefully be better poutine tomorrow. On the way out someone remarks that we should have gotten wine instead of the beer…and I couldn’t have agreed more as I set the four cans with varying levels of liquid left in them on the bar. We agree to meet at 8:30 to kick off our last full day in town.

Sunday May 25

Our first stop today is Jean Talon market. It is a gloriously sunny, warmish day and we look forward to walking around without rain gear or heavy jackets. We do take the metro to the market and make a quick Tim Horton’s stop just before getting there. The coffee is good, but a miscommunication nets me much more coffee than I wanted- I think when we said “extra cream” he thought we were asking for “extra large coffee”. It could have been worse. We walk to the market, which I believe the last time we came here was wintertime and even though the market was working, it was buttoned up- essentially an indoor market. Today though, the walls are down and the breeze is flowing. Before we dig in and explore, we stop at an anchor shop- one of the vendors in a brick and mortar on the perimeter of the more temporary vendors in the middle. It’s a bakery and we get some pastries- croissants and such, to go with our coffees and sit outside doing some last minute plan recaps before heading in. Meanwhile, Lisa is messaging with her local friend to discuss later plans or get local recommendations for the market and area. We love wandering through the market with all of the fresh produce, but, not being able to bring anything back across the border, we have to commit to eating everything we buy before we leave- tomorrow. We spend about an hour at the market just enjoying the sights, sounds, and smells (save the screaming kids who have already had their fill of the market). There are a couple of stalls with pre-made food, but for the most part, it’s fresh vegetables, fruits, and flowers. We do stop at a cheese shop, olive stand, and a guy selling maple syrup. On our way out, we stop again at the bakery to get some bread to go with our cheese and olives. We head back to the metro to go to the knitting shop that Lisa and El want to visit. Once we saw how much we bought (especially the syrup), the decision was made that we would need to go to the room to drop off the purchases (instead of lugging them around for the day). The plan morphed about four times in an effort to devise the most practical, and efficient path. Eventually it was decided that Bob and I would get off at the home metro and go back to the room to drop off purchases and pick up some items based on the current weather pattern. Lisa and El will continue on to the knitting shop that neither Bob nor I necessarily wanted to go to. We would come up with a meeting spot and regroup to head to our next stop...the cemetery. I find a coffee shop called Paquebot in the Mount Royal neighborhood. It is a great pick with grilled cheese and hot chocolate to hold me while waiting about an hour for El and Lisa to get here. The music is tough to get through (lots of dream pop) that is trying its level best to put me to sleep. Eventually, El and Lisa show up and discuss whether they need food or drink before we move on to the next stop...the Niege cemetery via the tam tam. Lisa and I have a brief situation where we do not see eye to eye on a certain subject and she lets me know it standing in the middle of the cafe. I didn’t want to argue back at that moment, but it was probably for the best. I was able to at least consider her point of view, and in retrospect, any argument probably would have done little to diffuse the situation. I am going to chalk it up to miscommunication on both sides and the best remedy is for it to remain in the cafe rather than finding an opportunity to rehash the situation. As a group we head off for Mont Royal Parc. Every Sunday there is an event called the “tam tam”, which is a drum circle made of local participants who show up to bang on their congas, bongos, drums, garbage cans, basically anything that makes noise when beat with your hands or a stick. As we walk closer to the park we can hear the beat letting us know we are walking in the right direction. Once we get to the entrance we make our way up to the lawn to watch the performance. I am guessing that this started some time ago as a few people getting together with instruments in the park, that has just morphed over time to a music event attracting enough spectators to attract vendors selling perfume and jewelry, where the audience brings their weed and lays in the grass letting the rhythms wash over them. It does not take much time to realize that it isn’t so much the playing of songs as it is just making rhythmic chugging tones, that quickly becomes so monotonous and droning that about three minutes is all we can collectively stand and decide to press on to get away from it. We enter the park with our maps looking for Niege Cemetery. What we haven’t counted on was just how big the park is, and this cemetery is on the opposite side. It’s a couple of miles, but most of it is some variant of uphill, some soft and some steep, but we felt like we are going up, up, up. At some point it is raining and truth be told, my feet are killing me. Not sure if it is a shoe problem, a sock problem, or a we-walked-a-lot-yesterday problem. I spend a lot of time concentrating on not letting the pain slow me down to keep up with the group. We finally make it to the other side of the park and now need to figure out how to get into the Niege, which is next door to the Mount Royal Cemetery. We can’t figure out how to get from one to the other, so we start walking around, following the wrought iron gate. We come across a gate, but our hopes are quickly dashed to see that they are locked and we must press on. This is a cemetery with more than one million graves, so you can imagine it is a large perimeter. Just as we are all incredibly exhausted and my feet especially sore, by the time we found an open gate the four of us were already over it and just ready for it to be finished. But, we do the right thing and stop at the gate and pull out our research describing why this cemetery is a worthy stop for a traveler coming to this town.

As El and I begging walking through, things start to look strangely familiar- we’ve been here before. And as we walk, I understand why we didn’t remember it…because it is unremarkable. There are some grave statues, but not all that many. Yeah, there’s a million graves, but I am not about to travel to the far reaches of the place to see *if* there’s something to look at. We had read in the guidebook about a specific mausoleum that has an exact copy of Michelangelo's Pietà in it. So, we make that our destination. Taking in the sights as we make our way to it, but slowing down for little else. Now I remember that last time we came with a car and actually drove the grounds instead of walking it, which wouldn’t be so bad if we weren’t exhausted from the walking we’ve been doing. We find the mausoleum and I take a seat inside while the others have a look around. Though, for me the sculpture was the destination and I saw what I came to see. Once we are ready, we head out to the nearest bus stop to make our way to a poutine shop that was recommended called Chez Claudette which is back closer to the café we met El and Lisa at a couple of hours ago. In the interim, Lisa has made plans for us to meet up with her local friends, Elaine and Dave, this evening at their favorite local bar…the Wolf And Workman (we got the suggestion from them last night). So as not to ruin our dinner, we opt to split one large plate of classic poutine. I’m not sure it was the best poutine ever, but it was very good. The menu had lots of poutine options, but we wanted to compare the classic here, with what we have had in the past. Again, very good and liked by all. Lisa was messaging with Elaine to coordinate getting to the Wolf And Workman around the same time. We walk to the closest metro and take it down to the old town. Arriving minutes before Dave and Elaine arrive, our timing was pretty good. Not in need of a full dinner, some of us go with lighter fare and drinks, while others get more substantial meals. Turns out to be a great evening spending time with Elaine and Dave, who live a bit out of the city center. There was initially talk of us going out to their town, but this arrangement seemed to work for everyone. We spend a couple of hours talking about curling and traveling. One of my favorite subjects! Seriously, they were great conversation and it was a good evening. Just as we did last night, we walk back to the room. With no plan to go back to M, but knowing we still have a selection of meats and cheeses that we need to consume before the morning, we stop at a wine shop and grab a bottle. Once we make it back to the hotel, we set up downstairs. There is a lounge area with a table where we can spread out our snacks and chat about our time here. Some excellent cheese, olives, a baguette, and the wine. It seems like everyone was happy with the experience overall and Bob and Lisa really make themselves good travel partners. My planning doesn’t yield all winners, but I think I hit more than I miss which hopefully makes it fun for them. We are in for the night and retire to our rooms around midnight. 

Monday May 26

We plan to check out, grab some breakfast, get the car, and get on the road as soon as we can. At 8:00 we are standing in the lobby heading to a Starbuck’s that we saw nearby. It’s good for a coffee and pastry for those that want. El says she wants to visit the supermarket next door to Starbuck’s before heading to the car. Bob and I watch bags and Lisa and El shop for a short time. Once we are ready to move on, it takes us a few minutes of asking around how exactly do we get back to the parking garage. We know it is attached to the Hyatt Hotel, but we seem to walk in circles trying to find the elevator. Eventually, someone points us in the right direction and we are back at our space loading up the trunk. The ride home was largely uneventful. The border crossing took a lot longer than I thought it should have. I mean our lane of cars was 5-6 cars deep. But, with that few, even at 5 minutes per car, is about 30 minutes to get through the border. When we roll up, we are prepared and Bob hands the guard everything. We get about 5 questions, some have to be answered by the group and some have to be answered by specific people in our car. We are through the checkpoint in a matter of about 1 minute and I cannot help but wonder what in the world the cars in front of us had answered that they were questioned for upwards of 5 minutes. Though, I had not noticed the license plates of those cars, and certainly there is a different set of questions for persons from Canada entering the US, as opposed to us who are just going home. The rest of the ride is uneventful and we are able to avoid all holiday traffic coming out of Lake George and Saratoga. We still had a half of a holiday to use by the time we got back. Perfect timing! 

Sim