Top 10 Can't Miss Montreal

Any trip to Montreal will be defined not be the number of things you check off a list, but the people you meet and the memories you make! A good starting point, though, are the 10 things below. If you leave Montreal without experiencing the items on this list, you might just have to go back for round two! 

Here is my list of Top 10 Can't Miss Montreal!

1. Smoked Meats (and other culinary experiences)

To be honest, I could have just hopped from cafe to restaurant to bar my whole trip. Quebec is a culinary wonder, and Montreal is the meeting point of traditional French Canadian cuisine and modern creativity from the cadre of international chefs who call the city home. In my opinion, the pièce de résistance of Montreal's food scene is smoked meats (locals usually say it in plural, but I've heard "smoked meat" as well). Wikipedia describes it as "a type of kosher-style deli meat product made by salting and curing beef brisket with spices. The brisket is allowed to absorb the flavors over a week, and is then hot smoked to cook through, and finally steamed to completion."
I don't know the details of the recipe, but I can vouch for the necessity of including smoked meats on your edible tour of the city. The pleasures of the taste buds never end- find my list of the most important culinary experiences in Quebec, here. 

Smoked meats sandwich from Main Deli, Montreal

For the best smoked meats in the city, you'll find online that Schwartz's is the place to be, but the Main Deli, just across the street, is just as good, less crowded, and has the most incredible, garlicky coleslaw (and I don't even like regular coleslaw!), and has my favorite poutine in the city. 

2. Wander around Vieux Montreal
Old Montreal (vieux means old) is a handful of shop-lined streets clustered around the viuex-port on the St. Lawrence River. This is the most European part of Montreal, with cobblestone streets, 17th-19th century buildings such as Marché Bonsecours and the Notre Dame Basilica, and delicate classic French restaurants. Around the port, there is an ice skating rink in the winter, and in the summer you can rent bikes, skates, and even Segways! The paths are popular among runners and dog walkers. Don't miss the beautiful Montreal Clock Tower. 
In the summer, Place Jacques-Cartier overflows with tourists enjoying restaurants' outdoor terraces and enthusiastic street performers. In the winter, the area is quiet and rather empty, but the tableau of four-foot long icicles glittering in the yellow street lamps, snow crunching underfoot, and antique window panes glazed with ice is unforgettably lovely. 

St Lawrence River, Montreal, January 2016

Montreal Clock Tower

Ice skating at Vieux-Port

Vieux Montreal

The hostel I stayed in was located in the heart of Old Montreal, on Rue St. Paul, about a block from the port. 

Auberge Saint Paul

3. Experience the Nightlife
Montreal can mean charm, beauty, classic French refinement, but it can also mean wild, rambunctious fun. The city's nightlife is extremely diverse, there's something for everyone! 
You can find great energy somewhere nearly every night of the week- use this list as a starting point- there's something for everyone in Montreal!

4. Enjoy Downtown 
Downtown Montreal is where the French and English meet, it is tall buildings, headquarters of international companies, "Cafe Starbucks Coffee," glamorous people, and a mix of expensive 5-star restaurants and fast food chains. You can't miss poking your head into Taverne Square Dominon, a restaurant/bar that maintains the same rich elegance as when it first opened in 1927. The menu is quite pricey, but it's worth stopping in for a ($9-13) cocktail- I recommend the Rye & Ginger!

5. See McGill's Old World Grandeur
McGill University is one of Canada's elite universities, with the most rigorous admissions process in the country. It is an English-language university located a 10 minute walk from Downtown in the direction of Mount Royal. Founded in 1821, the oldest remaining building is the central Arts Building, built in 1843. The main campus is compact, you can tour the whole thing in less than 20 minutes, and it is absolutely stunning. The 19th century neo-gothic architecture is perfectly suited for an icy winter, and in the warmer months, the wide green lawns are filled with students throwing frisbees, reading, and picnicking. A stroll through campus is definitely worth your while. 

  
6. Mile End
This is the coolest neighborhood in Montreal. According to me...but I have a strong argument. 
Mile End is 10 of the most artsy, hipster (and non-hipster) friendly blocks in North America. There are little hand drawn maps of Mile End that many business hand out to customers, placing businesses into categories such as lunetterie (glasses shop), designers Quebecois (Quebec designers), magasin de chaussures (sneakers shop), and magasin de curiosite (shop of curiosities). Vintage shopping is particularly fun here, with at least 8 stores that sell high end and low end vintage clothing and furniture. 
Don't miss...

• St. Viateur Bagel
• Cafe Olimpico 
• Annex Vintage
• Dieu du Ciel beer pub

Mile End offers hours of gleeful wandering, discovering new treasures on every corner, as well as radiant night life. Check it out!

Cheese sampler at Dieu du Ciel

Cafe Olimpico, Mile End

7. Mount Royal

A big hill in the center of Montreal, for which the city is named. Mount Royal Park is a popular place for outdoor activities. You'll see women jogging behind baby carriages, families taking walks, and dogs playing. In the winter, people cross-country ski, snowshoe, and sled here. The autumn foliage is beautiful, and it is a great green escape from the concrete, steel, and glass of Downtown. 

8. Elaborate cathedrals
Some of Montreal's prettiest architecture come in the form of the dozens of cathedrals all over the city. In colonial times, only Roman Catholics were allowed to settle in New France, making Quebec unique among Canadian provinces with 84% of the population claiming Catholic heritage (2001 census). Some of the most stunning churches are...

Notre-Dame Basilica, Old Montreal

Mary Queen of the World Cathedral, Downtown Montreal

Notre-Dame-de-Bon-Secours Chapel, Old Montreal

Church of Saint-Pierre-Apotre, The (Gay) Village, Montreal

In addition to its 1850 elegance, the Church of Saint-Pierre-Apotre is also home to the Chapel of Hope, dedicated to victims of AIDS. 

There are also over 100,000 Orthodox Christians living in Quebec, worshiping at the Byzantine style St George Antiochian Orthodox Church and the 109-years-old St. Peter and St. Paul Russian Orthodox Cathedral, among others. With even more Muslims than Orthodox Christians (108,000 in 2001, but that number has shot up in the past 5 years due to asylees and refugees), there are a few mosques, but none of particular architectural significance.

9. Markets
Taste testing your way through several of the city's best markets is the perfect way to spend a Saturday morning. Gaze at mountains of fresh fruit and vegetables and display cases with dozens of varieties of cheese. Sample different types of maple syrup (yes, there are different types!), and grab lunch at one of the small restaurants where you can watch shoppers as you eat. While you won't have the adventure of seeing the shocking cuts of raw meat or unknown fruits of markets in less developed parts of the world, the markets of Montreal are clean and organized, and provide a very pleasant (window) shopping experience. You might even see some unusual local products, like bee pollen! I recommend Marche Atwater and Marche Jean-Talon.

Atwater

Atwater

Jean-Talon

Jean-Talon

Jean-Talon

10. Practice Your French
Québécois is the mother tongue of 22% of Canadians (7.3 million people), about 80% of Quebec's population are native francophones, and 95% of the population speak French as their first or second language.
Once outside of Montreal (or when you get pretty deep into the residential neighborhoods of the east side), there are plenty of people who don't speak much English, but within the city people are generally bilingual. Many shop assistants, bartenders, and waiters will address you in French first, and if you respond in English, they usually switch over with you- but not always!
If you speak French and want to practice, this is the perfect place to do it. Just remember, Quebec French is quite different from French in France. If you don't speak French, you'll be fine, and probably pick up a few phrases- qui lait cru!

Go forth to Montreal with this list as a guide, but don't be afraid to stroll away from the "highlights" and find your own top 10!

Flying vs. Driving into a City

I was riding the metro in Montreal and I noticed a girl sitting in the corner seat, carrying two large neon yellow suitcases. I was suddenly hit with that strange feeling you get when you see someone in a window and don't immediately realize it's your own reflection. I have been that girl so many times. She was (probably) heading to the airport, a visit to Montreal behind her, and I realized it was rather strange that I wouldn't see the airport on my trip. 
I drove into Canada from New York City with my friend Dylan, we drove a day trip to Trois Rivieres and Quebec City, and would drive out back to New York, never seeing the city from above. 

suitcase girl

The feeling of driving into a city vs. flying in is quite different. 

When you fly in, you see the whole city from above. You get a sense of  it in relation to the land around it- but only the land you were able to see from the time you descended low enough through the clouds. 

When you drive in, you understand how the city connects to other cities, to the land; how the outskirts and suburbs bleed out, gently rising from farmland or tundra up to the city center. 

When you fly in, you drop into the city quickly and suddenly, it's like...teleporting (but not quite as exciting). Then you get to move from the airport to the center, usually seeing a gritty suburb, usually on public transportation, letting yourself join the fray and noise of the people, melting into the crowd.

When you drive in, the atmosphere builds slowly. It wraps around you, slithers in through the air vents, slides over the windshield. Your license plates betray your foreignness, but you've worked a little harder to be there, so the city is yours more immediately than if you had flown. 

Overall, the choice to dry or fly is often made for you- cost analysis, distance, availability, etc. 
Driving keeps the string connected, from departure to destination, where flying severs that cord.
One method is not necessarily better than the other, but they're different, and the different psychological/emotional feelings should be considered when planning your next trip! 

Pre-Canada Thoughts

I think of the whole of Canada the same way I think of those American fly over states and the American midwest: quiet, slow, basically the same as the rest of the US apart from maybe a slight accent and an outsized interest in local agricultural products (corn, cheese curds, maple syrup).

Here are 10 Things I Expect from Quebec:

1. THE COLD.
2. French
3. Nice people
4. "Paris without the jet lag" -The New York Times
5. Poutine 
6. Hostel fun 
7. Quaint charm 
8. Great bar/music scene   
9. Meats
10. Cold... 

Now, let's break that down.


1. THE COLD.
I hate being cold. I love winter, I like cold weather in general, but the actual feeling of being cold is the absolute worst. I also tend to feel cold more often and more quickly than other people thanks to poor circulation, so I'm pretty nervous about spending 4 days in Montreal in January. The forecast is 5 degrees Fahrenheit the day we arrive...yay...thankfully it will climb back up to around freezing for the rest of the week, but Monday will definitely be a day of indoor activities.  
 

me in Montreal

2. French 
It's Quebec. People will speak French.
Québécois is the mother tongue of 22% of Canadians (7.3 million people), about 80% of Quebec's population are native francophones, and 95% of the population speak French as their first or second language.
I can introduce myself and count to 14...thanks, 3rd grade French class!
I'm planning on studying some Québécois phrases on the road to hopefully win some local favor, even with my embarrassingly poor pronunciation.

3. Nice people
That's the Canadian stereotype, right? 

 
4. "Paris without the jet lag" -The New York Times
I don't really know what this means, exactly, but it's raised my expectations. 
I hope there are croissants. 
 
5. Poutine 
Speaking of food...I'm not convinced I will like this concoction of french fries smothered in gravy and cheese curds, but I'm definitely looking forward to giving it a try!

6. Hostel fun
We're staying in the coolest and best hostel in Montreal, according to my careful, in-depth research (credit: www.google.com).
While Montreal might be a bit tame, and Canadians might just be less interesting Americans...I am counting on this hostel to provide some much-anticipated international flavor to the trip! Hopefully there will be some hip young travelers looking for adventure that we can swap stories with.

7. Quaint charm
We plan on taking a day trip up to Quebec City- just look at this place!

 

 
8. Great bar/music scene
I have a list of about 10 "must go" places. Clearly I can't hit all of them, but I'm excited to check out the nightlife!
 
9. Meats
Montreal is famous for its meats. 
Anyone who has been to New France at Busch Gardens, Williamsburg- that's basically how I'm imagining it... 

10. Cold...
I know that we were all complaining about the absurdly hot winter, but now that the cold is actually here, I'll say that I'm a bit apprehensive. I'm sure it will be fine...if worse comes to worst, I'll just huddle in a cafe all week with a big cup of cafe au lait and a plate of smoked meats.



Overall, I'm honestly thrilled to be going to Montreal. I've heard nothing but good things about the city and I can't wait to get out and explore a new part of North America! The challenge of French is particularly exciting. 

Yesterday my friend and traveling companion, Dylan, took me and another friend up in a little Cessna airplane! Dylan is an Air Force pilot-to-be, so we flew over the Hudson River and got a view of the NYC skyline before a quick field trip to New Jersey to drop off our friend at home. Even just that short air tour and brief sojourn to the local rural Jersey airport began to rev the engine on my travel impulses and get me really excited for the trip to Montreal! 
Tomorrow we embark- adventure (or at least good food) awaits!  

Montreal

 

Traveling Doesn't Change You

Traveling doesn't change you.

In fact, it's not traveling that changes you.

Travel returns you to your most original, purest state.

Travel brings the human soul closer to its universal, collective origin.

When we do not travel, when we stay, we are covered in layers of other people's lives, stories, personalities, and the expectations, traditions, and routines of our stationary communities.There is clear value is this familiarity, in being static, in becoming part of a community, but that action erodes our individual identity as it was imprinted upon our newborn hearts.

As we grow older, we appear to become more like "ourselves," to grow into our personalities, to "find ourselves," but really, we are simply cloaking ourselves in a societal identity.

There is a reason why so many people claim to find themselves while traveling, or attempt to find themselves through a journey.

Travel puts us out of context.

By pulling us away from our societies, our cloaks of expectations and patterned behavior are pulled off. We are able to freshly see the essential core around which our societal identity has been built. That essentiality is not simply a base that we use to center and ground us as we develop (though it can serve that function as well), but is a pure soul, a true identity.

Travel allows us not to find ourselves, but to uncover ourselves. We better understand who we are when we see how we react to challenging or unexpected situations when no one from "real life" is watching. No one is holding us to the standard of how we usually act, and surrounded by strangers, who can hold us accountable for our actions? We are forced to let go of our routines, to listen to our instincts.

Travelers are often expected or forced to represent not only themselves, but their entire nation. We cannot always answer confidently when asked "What are American men like?" or "How do Russians view Americans?" but we are at the very least made to think about ourselves and the cultures that raised us in a more objective way. Over-simplified questions often lead to deep and complex thoughts. We are able to see ourselves through fresh outside eyes, unencumbered by our time-built interpretations. Once we leave the forest, we are able to see more than just the trees- of both our nations and ourselves.

Uncover yourself. 

Travel: Smarter, Better, Further. 

~Love at First Layover~

final chapter

So, if you haven't been keeping up with the saga of my exit from the Caucasus back to Georgia, here is:
part 1
part 2
part 3
and now the final chapter...

Kazbegi Dance Party

After using my razor sharp wit and catlike reflexes to escape from my FSB interrogation on the Russian border, and white-knuckling it through the cab ride from Hell...I made it to Kazbegi! On my lap until the Russian border, and in the trunk for the last stretch, was a big plastic bag full of Ossetian pirogi. After the taxi dropped me in the town center of Kazbegi, I sat on a bench for a while resisting the urge to eat all the pirogi immediately. Shortly my friend Zviadi came to meet me, and we decided to make a little picnic! About 20 minutes into eating pirogi and beer on a tree stump table, sitting on unstable rock chairs in a glade in the woods, in the foothills of the Caucasus mountains, I get an urgent e-mail from my boss. The Georgian Parliament was issuing a resolution on the Russian "border creep" earlier that month, and needed me to evaluate the draft and edit the English, also, my big boss, who is a member of Parliament, was issuing an English statement on the Iran nuclear program that I needed to edit...so, we went back to Zviadi's family home so I could use his computer. While his mom bustled around the kitchen and yard, and Zviadi did something with the animals (oh yeah, they live on a small farm), I supported the Georgian democracy   ;)
I planned then to leave and head back to Tbilisi, but my work took a bit longer than anticipated, and I wanted to go around and say goodbye to all my other friends in Kazbegi. I wouldn't be back to the village that summer. Two other things prevented my departure as well...
1) I was proposed to. 
2) We had a dance party.


I'm sure you all want to know the proposal story, but honestly it's pretty personal and I want to respect the privacy of everyone involved. In short- I said no. It was half a request for immigration assistance and half "I love you," but...the guy didn't really speak Russian or English, so he recruited some nice local girls to be my translators. Boy was that awkward. I barely know the kid, it was uncomfortable, but there were no hard feelings. 

Thennnnnn Zviadi introduced me to the awesome girls who live on his second floor. These girls are from Tbilisi and rent extra rooms while they work at the big hotel/casino in Kazbegi for tourist season. Just as we were all getting to know each other, one of the girls gets called in to work an emergency shift...but Elena, Zviadi, and I still enjoyed each others' company! Once I had finally given in to Elena's pleading to stay one more night before going back to Tbilisi, the real party broke loose. Zviadi invited another of his friends over, we broke out the beer and snacks (I ate SO much cheese), I played with a baby chick, and we danced danced danced! 
 

me with the baby chick

me, Zviadi, and Elena being silly

forgot her name (probably Tako or Nino) but she's awesome

Zviadi, Bichiko, and our feast

This small baby cow and I startled each other!

It was incredibly fun. Just taking turns being DJ and sharing all sorts of American and traditional Caucasian music. We turned that top floor into a dance club! Most fun I've had on a Monday in a long time. 

Marshrutka Crash and the "Olympics"

As if I hadn't already had enough complications, the marshrutka on the way from Kazbegi to Tbilisi crashed. It crashed. Slammed right into another truck. Well, maybe not "slammed" exactly...basically, a truck merged onto the highway, cutting off our marshrutka. Other than the front bumper being ripped off, both vehicles were still drive-able. The drivers got out, and while they didn't exchange insurance info (either they didn't have insurance, didn't care, or knew each other- all possibilities), they did find it necessary to scream about whose fault it was for about half an hour.

Eventually the driver (and the men who had gotten off the marsh to participate in the excitement) got back behind the wheel, picking the bumper off the road and handing it to the passengers. We passed it overhand through the marsh and stuck it in the little luggage rack above our heads. Then we rumbled off down the road towards Tbilisi once again. 
So close, couldn't have been more than 20 minutes outside the city, when suddenly we hit a detour. The road ahead was closed thanks to the Olympics...let's be clear, these are like the 5th rate Olympics- European youth Olympics in their first fledgling year, invented by Azerbaijan to make them feel more European. 
So the last 20 minutes of the ride took about an hour of winding slowly through the ramshackle alleys of the city's outskirts. 
When I finally reached the Didube bus station I was exhausted, sweaty, hot, and angry. It was only about 3 pm, and I had planned to go straight to the office to catch up on work, but instead I went home and slept for 12 hours.

What a trip.

My Life as a Spy (FSB interrogation)

So if you haven't been following the tale of my journey back to Georgia from my sojourn in the Northern Caucasus, first I was convinced to stay an extra day in Vladikavkaz by a cool little Ossetian wrestler and the promise of a wedding, then got stuck in the taxi from hell when I finally did make my way back across the border...

This border crossing (right)- alternately called Verkhny Lars (Russian) or Dariali (Georgian), is an interesting one, and fairly unusual for tourists to cross. Most people that travel to Georgia don't plan on going north to Russia- particularly not via this long, slow, complicated crossing. Tourists to the Northern Caucasus aren't that rare, but usually they fly in from Moscow. To see an American crossing the border into the Northern Caucasus by car is quite extraordinary. Thus, the border patrol agents were particularly enthusiastic in my questioning.

On the way to Russia, a cute little blonde woman in plain clothes (sign of FSB) came and asked us questions while we sat in the car. It was clear that we were a rag-tag group of walkers who had just piled into a random car to get through the border, which is why I think they questioned us. It's not illegal, but maybe unusual enough to warrant individual questioning. I think if they had realized I was American sooner they probably would have pulled me out of the car, but I kept it on the DL so we got to stay seated. She was just so curious about my life! And thought I was so interesting! She chatted with me like an old girlfriend catching up and I played the part. Gushing about how interested I am in Russia and the former Soviet Union, how I'm traveling to practice my Russian, and NOT how I was working for the Parliament of Georgia...

here is a forbidden shot I took of the border entry to Russia

 The way back into Georgia was not quite as simple. 
 

basically me

So it's Monday morning, and as the sun moves higher across the sky my seat mate's fleshy arm gets stickier by the minute, and the Ossetian Kim Kardashian-wannabe in the front seat raises the octave of her screeches. 

The border crossing process is as such: drive up to the line of cars (I think we waited about 30 minutes), eventually reach the little station where passengers disembark and shuffle through the passport check window, get back in the car on the other side of the station, drive through no-man's land to the Georgian border station, passengers disembark, go inside, and get their passports checked and stamped, get back in your car on the other side, drive to your destination!

It was around step 3 where things got interesting. When I reached the passport check window, the guy took one look at my passport and picked up the phone,
"Just a minute, someone will come"
"Okay..."
The phone rings, rings, no answer. 
"We'll wait a minute." 
He waved the next few people through, and tried the phone again. About 5 minutes later, a small young man in jeans and a white and green polo rounds the corner. 
"Please come with me," he says in stuttering English, I suggest we speak Russian, because I need the practice, and he gratefully agrees. The FSB agent (I'm like 95% sure he was FSB- Russia's internal intelligence service) led me up three flights of stairs to a cramped office. The one floor-level window was covered up with black tarp and duct tape. I sank into a springless couch, and my agent opened an enormous notebook full of pencil scribbles. As I answered his questions, he took notes- I saw he had written "Florida," my place of birth, which I found particularly odd since he had already made a copy of my passport. There was a big copier in the room, but no computer. I wonder if they ever transfer the notes to an electronic database. I wonder if they share information about the individuals unique or unlucky enough to receive this special treatment...

I can totally do that

He asked me the basic questions- what I'm studying, why I was in Russia, why I was in Georgia. He asked me about my family- was my dad a police officer? 

Then he closed the notebook. I guess the official interrogation was over, but then he asked, "so tell me the truth, what's America really like? I see it on TV and in the movies, but I don't believe it."
He wanted me to tell him it's all lies- that America is a land of evil, suffering, and unhappiness rather than the playful bounty the media portrays. While of course, it's not all like on TV, I couldn't tell him what he wanted to hear. Of course there is poverty, there is frivolity and selfishness and vanity, but that's not particular to America by any stretch. For the most part, life in America is really good- especially compared to the modest, rural, regulated life I knew this guy was living.
He told me he dreamed of traveling the world, but he couldn't because of his job (another hint he was FSB- they're not allowed to leave the country). I asked why he would pick a job that basically cut him off from his dream, 
"I'm a patriot," he said
"Well I'm a patriot too! I love my country, my homeland, but that doesn't mean I should never leave it. I can serve my country in many ways."
He was beginning to get defensive, "Russia is a big country, there is still lots to see here. I will ask for my next assignment to be stationed in the Far East, or maybe Arkhangelsk." 
Our eyes met in contemplative silence, our world views locked in fundamental opposition. 

My kind of spy

Suddenly the door banged open and four or five laughing boys in blue border guard uniforms tumbled into the room. When they saw me, they froze in silence- I guess my FSB agent didn't often have guests. I flashed them my flirtiest and most American smile, and they relaxed. My agent gave them my passport and they passed it around, incredulous that I needed a visa to go to Azerbaijan. My agent instructed them to escort me back to my taxi, and we parted unceremoniously. I wish I could talk to that agent again, I wish I could find him and talk more about our lives, our divergent paths...but I don't even remember his first name. He's probably been reassigned by now. He wouldn't want to be found anyway. 

In the stairwell with the boys in blue we ran into their boss and they all saluted. At the back of the gaggle I had the impulse to imitate their formality and gave a little mini-salute, referring to my AFROTC days. 

I'm potentially a total bad ass

My taxi driver and fellow passengers were indeed quite pissed at the delay I had caused, but I was angry at them too for being major jerk-faces, so I did not care and resumed my "holier than thou," crossed arms, pursed lips, pretending I'm not sweating like a pig attitude for the remainder of the trip to Kazbegi.
 

people waiting inside the welcoming, air conditioned,
WI-fi enabled Georgian border facility

Unfortunately I didn't risk taking any pictures of the Russian crossing station- they were very strict and I was already being carefully watched. My taxi driver actually came to check on me as the FSB agent led me away (not out of concern for me, but out of concern that the other passengers would get angry having to wait). When the FSB agent saw my taxi driver with his cellphone out he started shouting at him, pointing to the liberally distributed "no cellphones" signs, and actually took the phone out of his hand to check his call log...

Part 1: The Wedding I didn't Attend
Part 2: The Shared Taxi from Hell