Feel free to read today’s post on an empty stomach as it contains no food descriptions or pictures. (But be warned…. the next post is all about food.)
So what do you do in Montreal if you aren’t at a restaurant or munching on croissants? Today I went 10 miles on my bike and walked 26,000 steps in search of the answer to that question. I picked out my Bixi bike intending to ride over Pont Jacques-Cartier to the Île Sainte-Hélène. Being a mathematician and not an astute biker, I biked straight for the bridge from my apartment only to realize that I had intersected it at the center span and would need to go quite a distance to get to the entrance. But fortunately I could bike to a Metro stop nearby that would go there and leave the bike. As I turned the corner, I saw this:
This is the Aires Libres art installation known as Le Projet de Boules Roses (comically referred to as “Pink Balls”). 200,000 balls in 5 shades of pink stung along Rue St. Catherine in the area known as Gay Village. It is intended to support the LGBT community and draw people to the area for shopping and restaurants. People were strolling around and having fun.
I hop the metro and take the yellow line under the water and emerge on the island. There right before my eyes I see peeking at me:
Hello there Biosphere! I remembered as a child (a very very young child) that the biosphere was built as the American Pavillion for the Expo 1967 held in Montreal. It is so cool to see it up close and it now houses an environmental museum that as you go thru the temperature changes from tropical to frigid and in between. The Île is a beautiful park and I walk around it until I see the striking Andrew Calder sculpture”Man” (L’Hommme) that he created for Expo 67. I realize that I can see my apartment in the view across the river while standing at the sculpture.
Time to rent another Bixi bike. It is so easy to hop on and off these bikes and walk or take the metro in between. The stands are everywhere. I ride over Pont du Cosmos to the Île Notre-Dame intending to circle that island and return my bike at the end. But the Grands Prix Cyclists is taking place today and some of the roads are blocked. I get almost to my return spot when I am turned back by an official. She tells me there is another Bixi stand up the road. I dutifully ride up and see this:
There is no one around and when another biker comes by I say–Pouvez s’il vous plaît dites-moi ce qui c’est? in my perfect French and he says “What?” In his perfect English he explains that it is the Casino–the former French Pavillion for Expo 67. I say it must be closed and he laughs. “It never closes! You are on the back side. Go around.” I do and it is like another world. Taxis are pulling up and loads of people are going in( I’m not going to judge their attire, but….). There to the side is a Bixi stand. I put my bike in and decide to go inside. There are so many things wrong with this picture but I just had to take it. What is mainly wrong with this is not that I am in a casino all sweaty in my biking clothes but….. as so many of you know…..SHIRLEY DON’T DO CASINOS. Well at least it’s not in Vegas. I still have some integrity.
I meet a guy while taking this picture who asks how much I have won. I tell him I am not playing. He looks at me like I am crazy and tells me he just won $2,000 at the blackjack table. I tell him well then leave. He once again looks at me like I’m crazy so I take my own advice and leave. Back on my bike for the ride home but this time over Pont de la Concorde. I think I am getting the hang of this when I realize I have missed the bike lane and am now about to merge with a zillion cars. I stop and see that the bike lane is shut off by a tall barrier. I am frozen and then a man yells to me from his bike that he would lift my bike over the barrier. And he does! Canadian men are very nice…and very strong.
I am riding along when I realize I am about to pass Habitat 67, a model housing complex built for Expo 67 and now is considered a very desirable place to live. It is 354 identical cubes made of prefabricated concrete. Originally the cubes were combined in different numbers to create apartments and as the years progressed apartments have been merged and some are 12 stories high. 
I make it back to the Old Port and stop for a sandwich by the water where I talk with Alin, an accountant from Laval. He makes a great effort to speak English as he really isn’t fluent and I so appreciate his effort. Once home I shower and go out for mass at Notre-Dame-de-Bon-Secours Chapel, lovely stone church erected in 1675.
Walking home I pass the store that I took pictures of the other night when a wedding was going on there. I went in and the mother of the bride, Dominique was there. She is lovely and we had a great chat and it turns out she is my neighbor here on my street. The store’s name is Room Service.
My last excursion for today is to go out to Olympic Park at night and see the lit botanical gardens. It takes two Metro lines to get there but it is worth it. The Japanese garden was my favorite. 
I get a few dumplings at the stand in the park, reverse the ride and walk home from Place des Armes. And that is a non food-related Montreal day. Next up…food, glorious food.
After hearing about the usually long lines around the block I assume they are closed, but no–there with his wood-fire paddle shoveling bagels into the oven is Joe Santa Maria. I asked for whichever bagel is coming out of the oven now and it is sesame. I tear into it and it is different–really crispy on the outside and chewy inside. Delicious! Joe and I have a great chat about the karma of coming when there is no line-(he has no idea why) and how people often mistake him for Adrien Brody. As I left, the line was quickly forming. I walk a few blocks and find myself at Fairmount Bagels
–only one person ahead of me. Sesame is also coming out hot and I take one and sit on a bench—hmmm–good–but no comparison to St Viateur. Or maybe it was just that Joe was so gosh darn adorable. 
You can go lean, medium or fatty and Helen says to go for the medium–great choice. So happy! 
But you expect a little more detail probably. I arrived without any problem to my lovely apartment in Vieux-Montreal–the old part of town near the water. It is always a bit scary before I open the door for the first day of Shirleyfest. Will it measure up to the pictures online? I am happy to report that this one exceed my expectations. It is a very old stone building and looks out on cobblestone streets and people riding by in horse and buggies. Inside tho it is very modern with a lovely kitchen.
Too early to cook for people tho and I head out for my first dinner—at Le Serpent– a walk away where I sit at the bar and enjoy conversation with Ann the bartender, a couple who left 6 kids at home and are in town for some ‘clubbing” and a very nice Parisian fellow on my right in town for business. Great meal and a good walk home. Day 1 not too shabby.
But I am here not to down prepared food, but to buy fresh produce so I stock up a bit. The market is beautiful and the produce perfect. Don’t you want to buy these?
Now I am ready to bike home on my Bixi bike. I put my purchases in my basket and head thru Little Italy and it is about a 45 minute bike ride home. Relax a bit and decide to try to go to dinner at Foxy– a very hot new restaurant that I am unable to make reservations in advance as they are “booked up”. Not to worry. I manage to get in and enjoy an Aperol Spritz and a lovely dinner of melon and tomato salad, smoked pork ribs and yams with cartelized red onions. The bartender is Renaud and reminds me of Elmer from Tony’s back home. He and the front of the house, Corinne, and I make plans to go to lunch this week at the sister restaurant Olive et Gourmando. Day 2 also not shabby.
Bon Soir until the next post.
I took a tram home, showered and he picked me up. It was great. It’s a real local hang out. Had a bar and tables in the front and a huge courtyard in the back. We had white and rose wine and lunch and I met the staff. One of the fellows, Adam, played football for University of Kentucky. The other owner, Andy, came and we sat around with him chatting. After lunch at Cru we went to a wine shop in South Melbourne. Peter toured me all around South Melbourne. That night I went via tram to North Melbourne and saw a play called Bronx Gothic. It was part of the Melbourne Arts Festival. I dutifully came 40 minutes early and was one of the only ones there for 15 minutes. People do not get places way ahead of time. They are too busy having fun up until they change venues. Also, I was impressed that no one rushed to get in when the doors were open. It was a very chill scene. Everyone had a cocktail when they came in and no one was in a rush to leave their cocktail to go sit down. Later I asked some locals and they said people in Melbourne have an innate sense of fairness. They know generally who was there before them and they would not try to get an advantage by going in ahead of those people. Another person told me –no it’s not that–we just like to drink up until the last minute. As we were led into the performance space we noticed it was a darkened room where the solo dancer was off in the corner. I thought she was warming up but she was really dancing to herself in the corner with her back to us. She was beautiful, tall and African-American and had a burnt orange halter dress on.
By the time the audience was entirely seated she was quite sweaty. Lamps were scattered around the stage–some were overturned. She danced and read aloud from notes as if she was an 11-year-old girl in the ghetto in New York. It was a coming-of-age sexuality piece. It was very very raw. It was very moving. It was disturbing. It was lots of things and I was so very glad I had come. I heard thunder during the play I thought it was part of the act but when I came out of the play it was lightning and raining hard. I considered staying in the area but given my recent accident and the throbbing of my leg, I hailed a cab and was quickly back to South Bank. I poured a glass of wine and sat looking at the Yarra River from my windows and couldn’t stop thinking about that 11 year old girl. I’m so happy I’m in Melbourne.
Two women from Estonia set next to me. They were very polite and very sweet. The pageantry of the ceremony was amazing. The athletes , many in wheelchairs, were down on the field. Coldplay was doing a performance and did song after song. After that balloon women came down from the sky. The volunteers were also there and they were in a play that was on the field and Kevin son Alex was part of the volunteer Corps. Rihanna then performed in an amazing orange dress. She was running from number to number putting on her fur coat in between songs and then she would swing out on a huge swing to the stage for another number. Wonderful fireworks after. Probably the best of Ive ever seen. At the end Kevin and I tried to catch up with Anna and Alex but we didn’t. I took the subway home with loads of happy people and got home at 1:30 AM.
Shirleyfest 