Friends old and new

So Montréal

No interstate highways from northwestern Connecticut to the heart of Berkshire County in western Massachusetts. Beautiful drive. One stop on the way, at Berkshire Mountain Bakery in Housatonic (excellent pain au chocolat, and a loaf and some kouign amann to bring). After the family love, we experienced yet more warm and generous hospitality from my high school bestie and her husband.

The last time I had seen them was for a class reunion in 2002, when they once again very generously put me up and fed me. This was a more relaxed time. We had lunch upon arrival. We had a great long walk into the nearby countryside, followed by a superb dinner (restaurant quality, I said, and it was true). We had lots and lots of very enjoyable conversation.

Two homestays in a row with bird feeders! This time we saw an elusive cardinal, a female. We also saw a bluebird using a bluebird box. I don't think I'd ever seen a bluebird before! I spotted a possum facing off with a neighbourhood cat and soon slinking away to safety.

My friend showed us the Merlin app that identifies birds by their sounds. Now Sweetie and I are both using it. The nearby countryside where we walked is quite open, and we heard many species.

They sent us off in the morning full of eggs, bacon, and toast, plus coffee for the driver. It's been hard to have such great company and then have to leave so soon. I love where we live, but I wish it weren't so far away from people that I love.

From the Berkshires, we could have zipped over to I-87 in New York fairly quickly, but I selected a Google Maps alternative that would take us on a diagonal through Vermont into Upstate New York. A wandering diagonal it was, on US and state routes and sometimes even on county roads and roads with no number. More than once we doubted the wisdom of Google Maps' choices. Adirondack Park featured a good half dozen long single-lane alternating sections while road work was going on, which Maps seemed not to know about.

When we reached Westport, not far from where we finally met up with the highway, I noticed a coffee shop, a rainbow flag at a nearby art store, and other rainbow things. We needed a pit stop anyway. The coffee shop is called Jambs. It featured a multicoloured electric "Open" sign, great coffee, and a very nice young man running the place. After so many signs along the way supporting the would-be dictator, this town was a refreshing find. We'd already seen some multilingual Hate Has No Home Here signs, and there was one in a shop window.

It wasn't long until we made it to the border. I had forgotten to grab my Canadian passport from the trunk; the guard let me through on my US passport and my French name. I'm not kidding. We made it to Le Nouvel Hotel through evening traffic. I skilfully wedged Taylor into a narrow space in the tiny underground lot.

Montréal is another old friend. When we lived in Boston, we would manage the occasional four-day weekend there, staying at an inexpensive hotel on the east end near the bus station and the Dunkin Donuts. I also toured with a surf band and played at the legendary Les Foufounes Éléctriques (we were not quite a match for the vibe). We've had a lot of experiences in this city. It's on my personal list of the great cities I've visited.

Montréal welcomed us back. That evening, at a South Indian restaurant with the extremely unpretentious name Our Place, our second choice after our first choice Indian restaurant was closed, we had the best dosas we'd ever had. We have a favourite dosa house here at home, but the ones at Our Place South Indian were better. Now we're spoiled.


In the morning, Sweetie and I walked to breakfast at L'Oeufrier (De La Montagne) (excellent oatmeal, a rarity in restaurants) and then to the Redpath Museum at McGill University, which features a large mineral collection and a paleontology wing, as well as a third-floor human culture collection that we were too tired to climb to (the building is about to undergo an accessibility retrofit). At the end of a long grassy area in front of the Redpath was the Palestinian support encampment. Old antiwar protester solidarity from afar.

Stade olympique on the east side

On the Sicily tour last spring, we had hit it off especially well with this one couple. They live less than an hour outside the city and were in town that day for appointments, and we had arranged to meet up. They picked us up a bit after 2. They brought us up "the mountain" (Mont Royal) to a couple of the viewpoints. Then they drove us into Vieux Montréal. I love the old city, but right now several blocks of it are torn up, the Basilique de Montréal is under more scafolding than Notre-Dame-de-Paris, and they still charge you money to go inside.

We had intended to go for coffee, but by the time we had parked and found the destination, it was cocktail hour. And then rooftop drinks turned into munchie food that turned into supper. N'duja fries! And a good charcuterie plate. Then a trip to an ice cream shop. We were glad this meetup worked out!

We did a lot of peopling on this trip, and it was all unexpectedly awesome for this awkward introvert. With family and friends who make me this comfortable, I'm less awkward and better able to interact. Love and acceptance make all the difference in human interactions.

We were switching to an airport hotel for the final night due to an early flight, so we had to deal with Taylor all day. In late morning, we managed to find a one-hour parking space near Snowdon Deli. Service was snappy, and very quickly we had a couple of huge smoked meat sandwiches in front of us, with half sours and coleslaw. The smoked meat (medium, not lean) was hands down the best we'd ever had, including from Schwartz's, the late Ben's, and our home-town favourite Anny's. Melt-in-your-mouth. The sides were delicious. And the service was so efficient that we were back at the car well before the hour was up.

Métaséquoia / dawn redwood at Arboretum

We drove to the Arborteum, again parked for free (until 4 pm), and spent the next few hours walking among trees and gardens and listening to birds. Then before it was time for vehicles to be towed in preparation for rush hour traffic, we hopped in Taylor and became rush hour traffic, inching our way on the autoroute and through one particularly gnarly interesection to the hotel Aloft near the airport.

Aloft doesn't have a real restaurant. I Google Map searched for nearby restaurants, figuring basic was the best we'd find. Au contraire! A short walk from the hotel across the highway, there is Restaurant Bar Foccaccio, an unexpectedly superb Italian trattoria.

We realized after we couldn't change our bookings that we need not have changed hotels. The drive to the airport from Le Nouvel Hotel would have been short and easy at 5:30 am. But if we hadn't changed, we would never have discovered Foccaccio. A goodbye kiss from a beloved friend.

And we arrived home to peak spring bloom in the habitat. What more could I ask for?