Mon-Train-All. Day Four.

Montréal, Québec - Oranges. Yes, oranges. And lots of 'em, too. Of course, we could have used the vitamin C to help make us feel better this weekend. This morning, my face felt like an acupuncture session gone awry, my sinuses like the crumbling ruins of Rome.

Sniffling away is not the most pleasant manner in which to spend eight hours on a train, which we did last night, getting back just before two in the morning. While the rain had mostly let up, it was still a grey day in la belle province. We did a lot of walking again, making it up to the Jean Talon Market, apparently the largest of its kind in North America ("Aha," he says to himself: "I knew there had to be another reason for so many pictures of fruit. That segue wasn't quite complete!")

Actually, I found the market to be patently underwhelming. Sure, there were many stalls of fruit, some particularly rancid cheese shops and the meat available at the charchuteries was no doubt top-notch. Nonetheless, there weren't really any bakeries (no Montréal-style bagels?) and frankly, no restaurants. No artisans, either. Those are just things I've come to expect from an excursion to the market.

It was, however, a veritable cornucopia of colour and the produce looked great (which really is the point, isn't it?), but from a tourist's perspective, once you've seen one pile of oranges, you've seen enough. Except in this case, I guess -- I liked how differently the merchants displayed their produce. In the end, the walk was salvaged by a couple of pains au chocolat and a panini avec porc et brie. Really, it all comes down to the food, doesn't it?

Speaking of which...

Mon-Très-All. Day Three.

Montréal, Québec - Très all, yes. Everything. Yes, that's it -- I think Montréal has a little bit of everything. Except these days -- apparently -- sunshine. That's right, it was still wet and cold this morning. And grey. SCS's sinuses continued to stage a revolt most of the day and my back continued to do its best bed-of-nails impression.

I'd have to say that one of the funniest parts of the today's adventures, though, came tonight when we went into Chu-Chai, a high-end vegetarian restaurant. And I, of course, was carrying some greasy smoked meat sandwiches from Schwartz's. I tried to explain it away by saying that it was only smoked tofu, but the hippies weren't buying it. So we agreed I'd buy them all a round of green tea and a side of granola, and call it a day.

So, yes, I did make it to the world-famous Schwartz's tonight for some smoked meat. My arteries aren't thanking me for it, but my stomach is. We waited in the line-up for a bit (which is apparently always there, regardless of the time of day) and felt kind of foolish when we figured out that we didn't need to wait for take-out. Two smoked meat for me; a turkey for SCS and an order of fries to share. Mmm, greasy goodness.

The meat didn't quite melt in my mouth like yesterday's at Dunn's, and it was quite a bit fattier. But mighty tasty. Home cut fries. Yum. And only $4.95 for a sandwich. I've been telling my arteries that they should just suck it up and experience the local gastronomical delights. Food, it just seems to be the focus of this blog every once in a while.

It was a day of a lot of walking, and we made it down to Vieux Montréal, where I finally had my first chocolate croissant of the trip. Shocking. Considering I pretty much lived off the things when in France a half-lifetime ago. Actually, this was a croissant filled with almond paste and covered in chocolate. Yes, it was just as horrible as it sounds. The architecture was incredible and SCS and I were particularly amazed when we thought back to just how old some of these buildings are. We also passed Notre Dame, where Céline Dion got married. Thankfully, our ears have been spared. One more day to go.

Mont-rain-al. Day Two.

Mont- réal, Québec - It's wet, it's cold and it's grey. Add to that the fact that SCS and I are both sick (her moreso than I) and that the vertebrae in my back have decided to go all Ralph Macchio on each other, and the first whole day in Montréal hasn't been all sunshine. Did I mention that it's wet?

Actually, it looks like a pretty cool city, and that's not just because I'm seeing most of it refracted several times over in the raindrops plummeting earthward. The spirit of John Bonham using my noggin as a bongo drum.

SCS had her presentation today, so I had a couple of hours to swim through the streets and take in some of the sights for myself. Being that fatty meat products don't do for her what they do for me, it also gave me the chance to gleefully gorge on some Montréal smoked meat at Dunn's. My goal is to make it to Schwartz's -- widely regarded as the best smoked meat in Montréal, if not anywhere outside the Big Apple -- but the hike would have been redundant today considering it's up near where we're staying (and not right downtown, where we were). Still, artery-clogging goodness. Such a boy. Melt-in-your-mouth like chocolate. Okay, not like chocolate, but melt-in-your-mouth, nonetheless. The waitress asked if I wanted the lean meat. Such audacity. Are you kidding? Fries, sure! Swiss cheese? Um, yeah. Coleslaw and a pickle? Is there any other way? (I do need my healthy option, too, you know -- duh!)

Lunch for me was late, and dinner, early, so I wasn't overly hungry when it came time to have a chicken breast, roasted red pepper and brie sandwich on a ciabatta bun at Boccacinos. And yes, more fries. All this after a great breakfast this morning at the B&B, which was comprised of little soufflés, toast with homemade peach preserves and chocolate banana bread. Yeah, it's been a tough day for that stomach of mine.

With the aching back, I had thought a massage might provide some nice relief. I think it was the "body-to-body" part advertised at the place to the right that I thought might get me into a bit of a trouble. Thought the loophole of filling out a job application might help me get away with it, but, well, um, no, apparently not.

The French? Well, it has come back just nicely, thanks. Neat how the human mind works sometimes.

Montréal, Je T'aime. Night One.

Mont- réal, Québec - So, after having spent eight hours painted into a train seat to get here, I finally got my first taste of Montréal tonight. Well, not really a first taste because we had such difficulty deciding where to eat. Not that there weren't plenty of options. No, and they were all full, with line-ups queuing down the street, even at 10:30. It was particularly funny to see people on every corner though, carrying bottles of wine sporting brown paper bag sport coats. In Montréal, you can take your own wine into the restaurants. On our entrée into the city (mmm, entrées), we did see a place called a "Hotdogeria". I'm not kidding. A veritable cornucopia of mystery meats, I am sure. Needless to say, we didn't head there. Also saw a mannequin sporting a sweater with a bump. Had never seen a pregnant mannequin before.

For whatever the reason, I was still surprised to hear just how many people actually converse in French here. With how bilingual the city is, I had somehow expected that there would have been a greater split. Thankfully, mon francais est retournée en force.

Above: If the fact that you sterilize your glasses is your selling point, I think I might just not be visiting your establishment.

Below: However, if you present chocolate you have for sale like this, je retournera d'es que possible.

The buildings here are magnifique. We have a great little B&B and have remarked how neat the architecture of the apartments is around here. Somehow, the facades of each place seems a little different from the one beside, despite them all being attached. Stained glass here, a round porch there. Or a turret. I look forward to getting out to soak in some more of it tomorrow.

To Hull and Back.

London, Ontario - I won't even start with the over- weight, middle- aged woman milling about the produce section of the grocery store in a t-shirt advertising a local 'gentlemen's establishment' last night. And no, she wouldn't have been confused with someone who had just aged somewhat less than gracefully. Cringe. No, tempting as that might be, I instead just returned from a weekend in the Gatineaus. And they were real purty. So was the company.

SCS and I left on Friday following a morning of classes and she and I edited some work until we reached Kingston, weaving in-and-out of both traffic and subordinate clauses. Then, of course, we needed to find a (free) Internet connection to send the report to the requisite people. People who do not necessarily read their email.

Our first stop, a somewhat sleazy-looking motel, only briefly gave us a connection (after all, we weren't surfing for porn), so it was on to Queen's University. An hour and a very helpful employee at the university who happened to be headed to Tanzania (from which SCS has just returned) later, and we were free to dine at the Sleepless Goat. Yes, the Sleepless Goat (who knew?). I didn't dare ask about the origin of the name. After this, it would be two days where the only Internet connection we would have would be like that found in the photo above. No email. No blogging. No stress (well, we'll get to that later).

On to the Gatineau hills and Les Trois Érables Bed and Breakfast in gorgeous Wakefield, QC. What a gorgeous spot. And a 110-year-old Victorian home. The decor was nice despite a couple of eyebrow-raising knick knacks interspersed. Service and the breakfast were tremendous. And a couple of great nights of sleep were had by all.

The view from the room defied beauty, conventional or otherwise. Overlooking the lake and the hills, trees shed their verdant skin for tones more suited to fall. Ablaze. A steam train also brings in tourists to take postcard pictures. And a covered bridge spans the water. No word if the waters are troubled.

Fall. How I love the fall. And in this case, even the tripping. Really, Wakefield is a quaint little spot. And I mean that in a good way. So relaxed.

Québec, home to Ontario's underage drinkers and apparently, also home to the 'stubby' as a wine bottle as opposed to the traditional beer (Bob and Doug, anyone?) And a screw-top, too. God love the screw-top swill, er, wine. Not quite a Tetra Pak, but still. I likely should have known when it came in a non-descript paper bag, crumpled like my brain after drinking it. Alcohol in the depanneur -- got to love it. I guess.

The wedding was on Saturday at one of the local churches and one of the highlights (besides, of course, the nuptials -- duh) was one of the members of the wedding party getting up and singing Josh Grobin's You Raise Me Up. Better than Josh Grobin. Tears, flowing all around. And then, the awkward pause and silence at the end because, being in a church, nobody knew how to react. Then the eruption. Would have thought we were in a Baptist baptist church for a moment, except that this was, well, Wakefield. Hallelujahs all around. It was beautiful. The bride and groom, too, said their vows in the other's native language, which was a nice touch. The reception was at Wakefield's old mill, which also provided a spectacular backdrop. A recurring theme, yes. A waterfall. More fashionable leaves.

And SCS was glad to finally have some chocolate.

More Hullabalooza.

Wake- field, Québec - A number of great signs pointed us, cajoled us, pleaded us and directed us throughout the weekend. This one, in Wakefield, made me chuckle. I also want to "Attain Joyful Fluency". As opposed to the painful bilingualism I grace now. "Master tense situations"? Doesn't matter what language, that's a great skill to have in your back pocket ("I'm a teepee, I'm a wigwam"; "No, you're too tense"). Another sign I found to be quintessentially Quebecois advertised condominiums. In French, it pointed out that Gatineau was only 25 kilometres away. And in English, it blared out that Ottawa was only 30 away. Well, it is always said that you need to "Know your audience". But it was still funny to me. The sign of the weekend, however, must go to the store along the road (alas, no photo) that sells "Second-hand candles". I'm not kidding. Really, are they in bulk? Are they still liquid, or still smoking (somebody might be)? Are the colours all molded together in one gelatinous blob? Are wicks included? Tough to wax poetic about that one. By the way, a quick Google search for "second-hand candles" results in 1,280,000 hits. And strangely, for the Internet, no porn. Or ear candling.

During a peaceful walk gone amok on Saturday, SCS lost her wallet after the reception, but prior to the evening party. A wee panic ensued. Luckily enough, a retired police officer found it and tried to track her down, visiting local restaurants and businesses. He even called her parents. I'm guessing he worded it carefully, rather than say "Hey, I found your daughter's wallet along the railroad tracks beside the lake...but there's no sign of her". Not good. They told him that we had rented a car from Enterprise, which I had happened to park nose first (showing the logo sticker on the back) after heading to the mill in my new role as Sherlock Holmes. As he came to the door at the Bed and Breakfast, his phone rang. SCS had gone into the Pot au Feu restaurant (free plug because of your kindness) and one of the staff passed her a piece of paper. On it, her name and a phone number to call. I'd have been jealous and all, but you know. I am sure it is strange to see your name in a random and unexpected situation like that.

Anyway, it all worked out and we headed to the 'Bal en Blanc', where we were to wear all white, hence the name. A little skeptical at first, but it really worked out. Even after Labour Day. Neat. Even the decor was white, with sheets hung. And I can no longer say I've never had a man sporting a fluffy, black boa jump into my arms. No, I'm not going to post the picture. All in all, a good time, for sure.

Sunday, we had a little more time for relaxing and went hiking in the hills and over to the covered bridge. It was an absolutely spectacular morning, with blue sky and fluffy clouds. Air crisp like a potato chip. It just smelled and tasted good. Tickling the skin and tempting the nose. Along the way, we saw a flash of red fly by and saw a woodpecker take up in one of the trees nearby (above right). I hadn't seen such a big pecker before. Oh, let's re-write that one. Quite a weekend for birds as I had also seen my first wild bald eagle on Friday, flying gracefully over the Thames river.

All in all, it was a really good trip. I love hitting the road and seeing new things and new places. It didn't hurt that we were in a very pretty spot in which I could actually picture myself living if only there were appropriate work there. Oh, that work thing. Details, details. On the way back, we also hit the Hershey's factory in Smith's Falls (what, no damaged peanut butter cups in bulk? Shame, shame!) and Ikea in Burlington. We've kind of been jonesing for Ikea for a while and really, it's tough to come out of there without having bought something. Fall-smelly candles and tea light holder (oooh, that just reeks of manliness, doesn't it!) and some brushed steel tins (that's better) for me. The great book case dilemma for SCS, though she also couldn't resist coming away with some goods. Whoever says money doesn't help obviously doesn't have any. It makes the world go around, unfortunately.

Sunday night was spent in Toronto. A shout-out is in order to Connor, who hosted us (his parents might temper that a bit). He is, afterall, in the vernacular of SCS, "Fresh Human". And an adorable one at that.

1,470 total kms. Yawn.

The ever-so-imporant road trip music: Cat Power: The Greatest;Swing Kids OST; Great Lake Swimmers: Great Lake Swimmers; Sarah Harmer: You are Here; Band of Horses: Everything All the Time; Coldplay: Live 2003; Hayden: Elk Lake Serenade; Midlake: The Trials of Van Occupanther; Emily Haines: Kives Don't Have Your Back; Acid House Kings: Sing Along with the Acid House Kings; Voxtrot: Mothers, Sisters, Daughters & Wives; Sarah McLachlan: Fumbling Toward Ecstacy; Sarah Harmer: I am a Mountain; Kathleen Edwards: Failer; REM: Green; The Magnetic Fields: 69 Love Songs; REM: Out of Time.

Outtakes.

London, Ontario - I have had a few days back in Ontar-I-O to regain my bearings, as well as to hibernate a bit (though I watched a couple of suns set, and a few stars dance, while learning about blogging in Malaysia). Just in time to return from vacation and face the hordes of weary, post-labour day souls turning up their collars to fend off the small teeth of fall. Self-sharpening like Ginsu in preparation of the w----- to come. I love this time of year. I can smell it, touch it, taste it. And best of all, I can feel it to my core.

A few additional photos from the trip south this past week.

Huntsville, Alabama: Beauty is all around, waiting to be found. A piece of graffiti I found written on a white board that had been affixed to the red brick wall. Just seemed poignant as I poked around alleys in an otherwise empty downtown Huntsville looking at the architecture and details on the buildings.Near the Kentucky/Tennessee border: Did I mention that it rained? Hard? I believe that this storm 'benefited' from the effects of Tropical Storm Ernesto threatening south and east of here. It was wet. Very wet. And this was when the visibility was still relatively good.Tennessee: From the category of signs gone wrong (or "Signs gone Wild!"?), we first have the "Polk Motel", which -- yes -- is named for one of the country's former Presidents. I'd still think they could have named something a bit more prestigious for him. At least a Suites. An Inn, perhaps? With a motel, there are just too many jokes (or pokes!) to be made.Alabama: That said, however, taking the cake are the Alabamans? Alabamians? (Yes, just looked it up; that's the correct offering for you trivialists.). Really, this one writes itself. And it's in the south, no less. Was there no thought put into that one? I can imagine the bank officer sitting there reading the business plan, snickering. With the number of strip joints I had seen advertised along my route, I would have been pretty disappointed to have pulled in here thinking it was somethign else and instead found that it was a 'Restaurant supply' store. At least it wasn't a carpeting depot.
Huntsville, Alabama: The store fronts (which were actually mostly lawyer offices) were really beautifully done with leaded glass and ornate designs. Huntsville, Alabama.
Huntsville, Alabama: A pigeon decided he wanted to be a part of this one. The buildings were so neat that I found myself looking skyward during most of my visit. At least there was nobody around to relieve me of my wallet when I was there because I was doing more craning than, well, a crane. Huntsville, Alabama: Which direction next? A few weeks until the next road trip, this one, however, only inter-province. Will be joined by a co-pilote this time, though!