Peaking in the Plateau

Scott likes to call this vacation: Toronto in Montreal. I'm disinclined, as the whole reason I've left Toronto is to find the otherness of Montreal. He has also been warning me, like, for years, that sleeping in a house, 2 inches from the edge of the road, in the Plateau in the summer, would be more noisy than I can handle (note my legendary noise sensitivity). Um, it was so quiet that I couldn't sleep. It was like the freakin' country.

We're situated slightly north of Mont Royal. As one approaches our residential intersection from the south, the hum of voices from the patios and restaurants with floor to ceiling windows, buzzes increasingly, like a hive. As one moves through it towards our pied a terre, it fades. There is no bass thud. Idiots aren't revving their cars nor speeding by. There is no drunken stupidity and disrespect.

What I love about Montreal is the cultural predilection to find and claim joy. This winter climate is amongst the harshest - harsher than most will encounter. It lasts, more or less, from December to May. Wandering the streets in late June, watching women with their babies in carriers and toddlers in tow (Lord, there are a lot of children in this 'hood), you can feel the vibrancy, the gift of ease. Everyone is eating ice cream. All the time.

Ain't nowhere nicer than Montreal when the weather's good:

These sidewalk gardens are ubiquitous...

One of those rare moments when my child is smiling (and I'm around)...

We're off to Jean Talon market today - not that we haven't already stocked up on the most fun of foods and wine - or to mention that we've got lunch plans at Quartier General and dinner at Salle a Manger. Friends of ours arrive today and tomorrow and we'll be having a little barbeque or two in our back garden away from home:

Yeah, it really is that nice.