Scanning

The man on the courtyard scanned the upper floors of the skyscraper-- with binoculars, I thought, maybe he`s looking for peregrines. Then I realized it was a video camera; he was shooting some video of the black faces of the Mies van de Rohe building known as Westmount Square, a landmark here but so starkly international in style that I find it sterile, both inside and out.

The peregrines were a good guess, though; the endangered falcons have been nesting on Montreal`s bridges and tall building for a long time, under the watchful eyes of migratory bird researchers.

I had ridden my bike over to Westmount in the middle of the morning, slowed by the endless construction around Concordia University that constricted the bike path down to one dangerous lane and spewed mud and debris all over the street. Coming home I went down St. Catherine instead, making several stops, first at the Iranian grocery where I bought two folded half-moons of fresh laham-bi-ajeen, and a box of Ahmad English Tea No. 1, teabags rather than loose tea, which is J.`s favorite, after some pleasant conversation with the old proprietor, who always sits behind his counter wearing a sweater under a worn suit jacket, his kindly face breaking into a smile when I say hello and hand him my purchases. "Some sun today, at last!" I told him, and he turned away from the boxes of halal chicken bouillon and henna on the counter to look out the window on this day which is probably, for him, just like any other day. "Yes!" he sighed, letting his shoulders heave and settle, and gracing me with another of his slow gentle smiles. "No more rain for a while!"

After that I bought myself a cup of coffee and a muffin, and sat reading Ondaatje in a cafe armchair for twenty minutes before heading east again. Going up the hill to Sherbrooke, just below the blocks that house the fine-arts museum and high-rent galleries and clothing shops, I noticed this storefront, nestled inbetween imposing wrought-iron fences, and thought I'd have to go back some day when it was open:

("Frigo" is informal French-Canadian for refrigerator, or "fridge," and "vert", of course, is "green." I liked the bilingual signage!)

That's what I love about this city: it's all mixed up. Within a few blocks you've got Mies van de Rohe, Iranian immigrants running little groceries that could have been plucked from the streets of Tehran, radical student collectives, museums with carved friezes that would be at home in London, a lifesize Chinese horse in a gallery window, Inuit carvings, $350 pairs of shoes and thousand-dollar dresses, and $3 lunches at al-Taib's middle eastern buffet.

I worry that the edge is off my vision, though, that I'm neither looking nor seeing as much as I did when I first came here. Maybe that's inevitable, but I hope not.

Comments

[Elizabeth]

You're certainly eyes for those of us who don't live there. That color green is wonderful -- and the tiny English translation in the left corner so great. Thank you for the walk about Montreal.

[dale]

(o)

[Mouse]

I think that's what I missed in France, at least in my backwater in Brittany, a confusion of cultures, a meeting of minds, the added spice of other languages. Brittany is SO Breton it's not even considered to be French by the good folk who live there and they wear their Bretoness like an armour. I should have gone to Paris more, I like to dwell in diversity and paddle in the pool of multi-culuralism.... Or maybe I should just return and let myself become a Bretonne

[beth]

Thanks for the encouragement, Elizabeth, and the (o) Dale.

Mouse, it's a puzzle, isn't it? Can we Brits and Americans ever become "French," or Bretonne, for that matter? I will never be Quebecoise, but I am becoming a Montrealer, the same way people from many cultures have become New Yorkers or Parisians. (But to be fair, after spending nearly all of my adult life in New England, I was still only barely a "Vermonter." Rural identity is so much denser than the polyglot city.)

[Kaycie]

Your eye still seems sharp to me. I love the little slices of life you share here. Did you not spend your childhood in New England? You have written so much about that part of our country, that I think of you as a native (albeit former) resident.

[Mary Germanotta Duquette]

Sounds lovely, all that diversity. Somewhat like Cambridge (Massachusetts), which is in my neck-of-the-woods. A little world all its own, in one place. I just love that, for so many reasons.

What a gorgeous storefront!

[Avery]

Now I must get out and explore. I have been in Montreal the last few days for a conference and now I have free time! Thanks for your snippets of Montreal.

[beth]

Hi Avery, welcome to my blog and to Montreal! Thanks for commenting. I hope this good weather will last and you'll be able to enjoy the city before you have to leave. I'm also glad to find out about your blog - you're a good writer with a lot of new experiences to talk about, from a Canadian perspective, which is really interesting for me to read.

[Avery]

J'ai trouve le Frigo Vert! I stumbled across it on my way to the "Upstairs" Jazz club. I was so happy to be successful on this treasure hunt;) I am also enjoying the beautiful weather and taking the city in!

[Parmanu]

Delightful!