My last day in Montreal and two things left on Lucie’s List: Saint Joseph’s Oratory and the Botanical Gardens.
I leave my luggage with one of the Via Rail porters (they will store it and put it on the train for me), say goodbye to Lucie and head to the Saint Joseph’s Oratory. It’s a big church and has a nice view over the city (a different side than what I saw last night). To escape the heat, which has become a theme over these last few days, I walk through the Garden of the Way of the Cross. They are beautiful and although the significane of the statures and their story is lost on me, it’s a nice walk.
From St Joseph’s I catch the metro out to the Botanical Gardens. By the time I get there I only have about 90-minutes and decide the $17 entrance fee isn’t worth it for the time I have. The grounds outside the actual gardens are nice though so I get an ice cream and relax under a tree. My time in both places was limited, but nice to see.
I make it back to the station in plenty of time, grab a sandwich and wait for the train. As promised, when I get to my seat, my bags are waiting for me. There is wifi on the train so in between checking out the landscape (it’s still flat) I catch up on emails, CouchRequests and blog posts. CouchSurfing can be time consuming but it is worth it in the end, as I find out (again) when I get to Quebec.
I’m staying with Juan, a Columbian who has been living in Canada for a while. He lived in Montreal for five years and has been in Quebec since November. I join him and his friends for a roving street theatre production. The first stop is in an alley. The actors are suspended on ropes with hooks at the end and include a woman dressed as Hitler, a man in a space suit and another half-naked climbing a ladder to reach an ice cream. It is all in French. Juan’s friend Chloe attempts to explain it for me. Apparently what the actors are saying is in complete contrast to how they look or the situation they are in. She says that even though she understands what they are saying, it doesn’t make any sense to her so I don’t think I am missing anything.
We meet some more people at a pub, where they let us bring in pizza (and Juan’s dog Kelvin). It is such a random mix of people; French, German, Spanish, Columbian, Australian. No native Canadians and no native Quebecers. The languages flowing over the table are incredible. One person asks a question in Spanish, it is replied to in French then someone adds something in English. It means I can only follow one third of the conversation but it is fun all the same. Quite a few of them have learnt French since moving here and are seemingly fluent after a relatively short period of time.
