Montréal

It is now three days since we left the benign American summer and drove all the way up to Gatineau Park in Ontario, Canada, where the spring still struggles with the melting snow. Though I have been to Vancouver before, the French-speaking experience of Quebec adds a distinct old-world grandeur with its Parisian metro-stations, cobblestones and separatists who blow up coffee shops because they are called “Second Cup” and not “Deuxième Tasse”.

 

Tonight we poured up a pitcher at L'Absynthe, 1738 Rue St-Denis here in Montreal where “Les sabots de Denver” played away with the folk-interpretation of a certain German band.