Luther?

I was blogging two days ago about British actors who make it in the US in great TV dramas. And I learned straight afterwards that BBC is producing one big cop drama, Luther, with none other than Idris Elba, the Stringer Bell from The Wire, in the lead role. I have to admit, after lamenting of the poor productions here, this seems to be a good move, at least casting-wise. Let's see if they get more than the casting right and if the series got inspired by American dramas also in the quality of the writing.

Un pot de confiture

"J'ai une idée: confiture". C'était ce que disait un ami lorsque l'on ne savait pas quoi faire et qu'on s'ennuyait un jour de congé. Ca faisait rire cinq secondes.

J'écris ce billet un peu parce que je ne sais pas trop sur quoi bloguer. Alors bon, je me suis dit "confiture" et l'idée m'est venue automatiquement. Enfin donc, bref, vous connaissez les petites fraises des champs? Ce sont des fraises qui sont petites et enfin bref, on les retrouve dans les champs, à l'état sauvage surtout. Voilà pour l'arrière-plan culturel. J'ai essayé de trouver de l'information sur le fruit sur google, mais à part des recettes sur des blogues québécois, il ne semble y avoir tristement rien. On semble en faire surtout de la confiture, d'où l'idée de mon blogue. Depuis l'enfance, la "confiture de petites fraises des champs" est pour moi la confiture. Les autres n'ont simplement pas le même goût.

J'ai eu un accès de nostalgie lors de mon dernier voyage au Québec et j'en ai pris au déjeuner, une fois que j'en ai eu assez du beurre d'érable. C'est un bonheur toujours renouvelé. J'ai décidé de prendre une photo du pot histoire d'immortaliser la confiture.

British actors and American screens

My wife found on BBC News an interesting article about British actors making it big on US TV. It is something I have noticed before, as most of my favourite TV dramas recently discovered (say The Wire or Rome) are produced by US money and US scriptwriters, but the casts are often heavy on British actors. The article mentions many reasons for this: British actors are competent but cheap, they can easily pass as American, they are also unknown in the American market, which is an asset when one wants viewers to see the character and not the actor, the US have of course more money, a bigger market, etc.

All of this is true, but there is also another element that is not mentioned in this article, but which Dominic West hinted at in another interview: US dramas are sadly now more creative than British ones, or at least they encourage more creativity. I deeply love a number of British dramas, but they go from fairly old to very old. The last British TV drama that I genuinly loved to bits was Sorted (I mentioned it here and you can find here its imdb page), which got stupidly axed by the BBC after its first season. The worst thing is that Americans have probably in proportions just as many poor and unimaginative shows as here, but they do get it right more often and there are people ready to back up good projects. Of course, they have the money to do it, but surely a good drama is no more expensive than a bad one. What I am worried about is that now that it has absorbed many British talents, and not only for the roles of badguys, one day they might also take British writers. It would be more difficult of course, as there is a cultural gap that cannot be filled as easily when writing about a different nation, but I can see a slippery slope. In any case, it is frustrating that British actors triumph in The Wire, while nothing of this caliber and of this particular genre has been made here in recent television history.

Serais-je revenu au bon moment?

Je ne crois pas que ça vaille la peine d'en faire une question existentielle, mais je me le demande néanmoins. Je trouve souvent les vacances trop courtes, comme bien du monde, surtout quand je dois quitter le Québec. Cela dit, maintenant je me demande si je n'ai pas quitté au bon moment. Il fait très chaud ici et il a neigé au Québec. Et j'aime moins la neige en avril...

Springtime anxieties

Spring, especially when it is such a nice one like this one (so far anyway), makes people all happy like they had never seen one. I feel like this too, on a good day. However, as I work in the domain of education and said work is often, like now, temporary and contractual, there is a sword of Damocles that prevents me for appreciating it fully. My contract will end soonish and I am already looking for a new job. Being unemployed is no holiday, even during summertime: you work just as much as if you were employed, it is just as stressful, but you don't get paid for all your pain and suffering. So I can't help but feeling anxious these days.

Ocarinas

Lors de mon récent séjour à Chicoutimi, j'ai retrouvé quelques reliques de mon passé de musicien amateur. deux reliques en fait, deux ocarinas achetées toutes deux à Québec, de sources différentes.

Celle en bas à gauche a été achetée d'un musicien un peu hippie (c'est un souvenir lointain alors ce n'est peut-être pas rigoureusement exact) dans les rues de Québec, celle en haut à droite, plus typiquement québécoise et à l'apparence plus singulière, d'un commerce, Cérimages, qui je crois a maintenant disparu et qui avait pignon sur rue à Québec. La gamme d'ocarinas qu'ils produisaient s'appelait Flûtimages, j'ai cherché autant comme autant sur google, je n'ai trouvé ni site web de la compagnie, ni de site consacré aux produits eux-mêmes, ni même de mention des produits eux-mêmes. J'ai donc, rangé dans mes affaires chez mes parents, une future antiquité, produit rare et original. Les Flûtimages représentaient des animaux (des oiseaux surtout mais pas exclusivement) de la faune québécoise. L'ocarina que mes parents m'avaient achetée était appelée "l'hirondelle printanière". Si mon souvenir est bon il y avait aussi une perdrix, une oie et un cygne.

Je n'ai jamais réussi à apprendre à jouer de l'ocarina correctement, ni de la typique ni de "l'hirondelle printanière". J'ai tout au plus pu sortir quelques sons qui n'étaient pas des fausses notes.Pour moi, l'ocarina était surtout l'instrument dont jouait Stellie, la protégée d'Albator dans le premier dessin animé tiré du manga de Matsumoto. Je n'ai pas réussi à retrouver l'air de la version français, mais on peut avoir le thème original sur Youtube, qui me fait vaguement penser à Greensleeve. Un jour peut-être, j'essaierai de mettre ici un enregistrement de mes deux ocarinas. En plus d'immortaliser leurs apparences, il faudrait aussi que j'immortalise leur musique, surtout celle de l'hirondelle.

Chronicle of a return "home"

Chronicle starting, ironically enough, with a picture taken in the Vieux-Québec the Saturday before Easter. It was just as nice and sunny as now, one could have thought it was summer if not for the old snow, full of sand, melting here and there and the bare trees. I have to admit, it is much greener here.

I have ambivalent feelings about Quebec City. It used to be my favourite city in the whole world when I was a young child, even though it was probably the only one I knew apart from Chicoutimi, Jonquière and the other ones from my region. Quebec City was for me exciting and exotic, with all its old buildings and Breton restaurants (about this: my wife thinks that Old Quebec looks a lot like Brittany). When I grew up, I slowly discovered Montreal and since I studied and worked there, I became a Montrealer. And there are tensions between the two cities that I integrated at least in parts in my psyche, it might have changed had I studied in Quebec City, it might have been different. Now I have to admit, Quebec City is much more beautiful than Montreal, even on a bad day. Its Vieux-Québec looks a thousand times better than Old Montreal, which I find much more austere. But I cannot help but feel that the place is full of tourists and bureaucrats. For all its flaws, I find Montreal more welcoming for people who want to live there (for tourists, that's another thing).

Anyway, that is supposed to be about a return "home", so enough about the trip. I put home in apostrophe as I don't quite feel home here yet. I live here, but I am not a local, or at least I don't feel like one. I guess it will be the case until we settle somewhere for good (or get a cat). That said, it is nice to be back in the flat, especially since the weather is so nice. The sun is here most of the time, when there is wind it is a warm one and when there are clouds the temperature does not drop dramatically. If it stays like this, it is promising for the summer. But I know better than to trust April. I can live with heavy Spring rains, even Summer showers, I just don't want snow and hail anymore/yet. I want some warmth. And some greenery, although I have been served with this since we got back in England. My recent trip home also made me want to discover British places I have not visited yet, or not visited enough. I am thinking about Cornwall, Wales, Devon...

Musique pour une superbe journée d'avril

Bon, je n'ai pas encore téléchargé les photos de Montréal, mais j'ai songé mettre ici un peu de musique qui pourrait être considérée comme circonstantielle. La circonstance: il fait beau, pas tout à fait chaud mais bon, on est en avril, et je vais sans doute célébrer ma fête ce soir (donc, je vais sans doute faire un gâteau). Tel que promis, je vais mettre ici une pièce de musique peu connue. J'essais d'aller dans l'inusité. Qui ici a déjà entendu du Lully? J'ai pour la première fois entendu Amadis alors que j'étais enfant, un jour de printemps, mais je ne rappelle pas s'il était pluvieux ou splendide comme aujourd'hui. Certains airs me sont restés en tête depuis ce moment, surtout celui que je mets ici. Je n'ai jamais vu l'oeuvre au complet, mais ma prof de chant (la très chère "Claudiiiine") m'a déjà enseigné Bois épais, peut-être l'un des arias les plus connus.

Apparemment, Amadis (lisez le livret ici) est une tragédie lyrique, je ne suis pas trop sûr de la différence entre ça et un opéra, mais bon, ça se rapproche assez pour l'amateur philistin que je suis. Alors, voilà, je vous donne un peu de Lully, pour une journée magnifique:

Blogging forecasts

Okay, quick blog to tell my modest readership where I am and what are the plans for this blog. So I am back in the UK, at last. I am jetlagged as expected and probably a bit lazy right now to make really interesting posts. Today was St-George's Day and I barely noticed it and I blogged about it before anyway. At the moment I might be numb, but I still have a few projects for this blog:

-Publish some photos from my last trip to Québec. Last picture I uploaded here was from nearly a month ago and this blog needs some change of colour, just like the season is changing outside and all.
-Inversely and paradoxically, blog about something else than said trip (or impromptu volcanic eruptions).
-Put a little bit more music. Like the pics, it gives colour to the blog. I am thinking about a few unexpected pieces at the moment.
-Find some new recurring themes for some posts, like I have done with my series of existential questions ("questions existentielles") which I have so far only done in French. I haven't done much on the Muses theme, so I will try to be more disciplined this time with whatever I will come up with.

Well, that's it for now.

33

English below...

J'ai trente-trois ans aujourd'hui. Avec tout ce qui se passait avec le volcan, j'aurais presque oublié que c'est ma fête aujourd'hui. En temps normal, ça me ferait un coup, surtout que le chiffre a une certaine charge symbolique. J'espère célébrer un peu plus lors de notre retour.
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It is my birthday today, I am thirty-three, an age which, like 18, 21, 30, 40, has some signification. I would have probably blogged about it a lot more in other circumstances, but with the recent Icelandic volcano eruption, my birthday became an afterthought. I'll try to celebrate more once I get over the jetlag.

Une caricature française du Québec, once again

Je viens d'être mis au fait (aux faits?) d'un autre exemple de vision caricaturale, ringarde, quétaine et bien franchouillarde du Québec, ce genre d'histoire qui m'irrite énormément. Un billet sur le blogue de Richard Martineau mentionne un article sur un livre français sur le Québec destiné aux enfants. Vous trouverez le livre en question sur le site de l'éditeur ici. C'est à se demander si Émilie Gasc-Milesi, l'auteure de l'ouvrage grotesque, a jamais mis les pieds ici. Ca me fait penser à cette chaîne de restaurants français, Ô Québec, sur lesquels j'ai déjà blogué.

Et, parlant d'Ô Québec, je ne peux pas m'empêcher de ressentir énormément de sympathie pour la Québécoise qui doit présenter le restaurant dans la vidéo d'introduction, avec l'uniforme de la police montée. Et Robert Charlebois sait-il qu'une bouteille qui ne brise pas lors d'un baptême nautique veut dire que l'embarcation est maudite? Peut-être que la chaîne l'est aussi. Espérons-le. Il est possible en restauration que l'insignifiance, comme le ridicule, puisse tuer. La critique, en tout cas, semble être d'humeur massacrante.

Enfin, pour en revenir au bouquin, je me demande sincèrement si de l'autre côté de l'Atlantique on sait à quel point leur vision est anachronique et distordue.

Failed attempt at an Italian conversation

My parents are on a trip to Italy at the moment. An idea of my mum, I think, who got envious of my trips around Europe and more particularly of my time in Italy ten years ago. They travelled shortly before all Hell broke loose, so I was getting worried about them. I didn't want to be worried and did not want them to worry about us worrying, but my wife insisted that I checked if they were all right, so I called their hotel in Italy. I couldn't get through them (they had left for the day), but I got the info that they were there and as far as I could tell they were fine.

Anyway, this is the background to the main topic. I was hoping to have a little bit of Italian conversation, see if I could actually made myself understood by the locals. I had prepare a little introduction "Buona sera. Mi chiamo Guglielmo... sono il figlio d'il signor... e di la signora..." There must have been mistakes in my speech, but I think it was acurate enough to be understood. Okay, maybe I shouldn't have translated my own name (did I ever said that I actually have a complete Italian name, first and family name included, that my friends gave me?), but nevermind, I think it was quite good. I wanted to carry on the conversation in English (my Italian being limited), but I wanted to break the ice in the local language. Partially to practice a bit, partially by pride, I guess. Of course, when I got through to the reception, I froze completely, blabbered a bad mix of Italian and English, didn't even finish my introduction in Italian and reintroduced myself in English, sounding dazed and confused. They must have thought I was quite stupid. Maybe they would have been right. I was certainly overconfident.

Décalage

Une observation comme ça qui vient de me traverser l'esprit: il y a cinq heures de décalage entre le moment où j'écris un billet et le temps où il est publié. Ce qui veut dire que mon blogue fonctionne à l'horloge anglaise, pour ainsi dire.

Ah oui, et pour la petite histoire, ma femme a blogué pour la première fois en quatre mois.

Eyjafjallajokull, or The Beauty of the Beast

Sorry for this upcoming, unvoluntary and pretty lazy Biblical reference and for stressing my current situation again, but the Eyjafjallajokull is the name of the beast. I am of course talking about the nasty volcano that is keeping us here. A mouthful, which I don't think I could pronounce it actually (copy/paste is useful in many ways). Not so long ago, I was reading (or rereading) Viking mythology, which I blogged about. According to Vikings, the world had been created when fire and ice met. I think I know now where the idea came from, and also how a culture that had a Hell that was artic cold and full of ice had nevertheless fire giants among the enemies of the gods. Surtr and the others must have been born from chance encounters of Vikings with volcanoes. Well, I am not the first one who thought of that. Of course, other civilisations might have come up with their own development into myths of volcanic activities. For the Vikings, such display of fire and ashes in their cold climate must have been even more terrifying.

I have to say, however, that from the pictures and videos I saw of Eyjafjallajokull, it is quite impressive, even beautiful. Volcanoes, like cats, have the grace and nobility of predatorial beasts.

La malédiction du 940

Puisque je suis forcé de demeurer à Montréal pour un certain temps, autant bloguer sur un sujet plus léger. Oui, oui, plus léger, malgré le titre sinistre de ce billet. Je parle du 940 avenue Mont-Royal Est, qui était à une certaine époque pas si lointaine (on y est allés en décembre 2008) l'adresse et le nom d'un restaurant que ma femme et moi aimions bien. Maintenant, Koka Loka y tient enseigne depuis récemment. Je ne sais pas si nous allons le visiter.

Enfin, je commence à soupçonner que l'adresse est maudite: avant le 940 il y avait le le Green Stop, in American diner qui avait ouvert en grande pompe en septembre 1997, l'aventure a été de courte durée. Alors que certains restaurants sur l'avenue prospèrent et survivent aux modes et aux époques (quoique dans certains cas je me demande pourquoi ou comment), ceux du 940 sont bien éphémères. Je ne sais pas pourquoi, mais la mort du 940 me fait penser un peu à l'agonie d'Eurosnack, une chaîne de fast food à l'européenne émule de Frite Alors qui n'est maintenant plus qu'une ombre pathétique d'elle-même, ayatnt perdu la plupart de ses franchises. Mais Eurosnack avait commis une série d'erreurs (un trop gros menu notamment), ce qui n'était pas le cas du 940, à ce que je sache.

Bon, un restaurant ouvre, un autre ferme, c'est la vie dans la jungle de la restauration, mais ça m'attriste tout de même un peu, parce que j'aimais bien celui-là et ma femme et moi on y a passé de bon moments. Enfin, ce n'est pas bien grave, il y a d'autres bistros qui servent le même genre de bouffe. Tout de même, je me demande ce qu'il adviendra du Koka Loka. L'adresse ne semble certainement pas porter bonheur.

No Journey Into Apocalypse

I think I got this title from Ian Fleming, "Journey into Apocalypse" was the title of one of the chapters of one of his Bond novels, but I can't remember which book exactly. Anyway, today I was supposed to leave Montreal for England. Well, something happened that changed our plans. A volcano got temperamental. So as I said earlier in a French post, we are stranded here because of a volcanic eruption. In Iceland, of all places. One would assume that volcanoes erupt only in the tropics, today's events reminded us that

My wife and I spent the day in a daze, being not quite here but not quite there, and also of course because of the spectacular way nature asserted its power over us. People call such an event an "act of God". As a Godless man of the existentialist kind, I consider such event as absurd, showing a blind but overwhelming force that shatters human plans with violence, yet without rhyme or reason. Still, they are utterly terrifying.

So we will miss England for a few more days. We will also miss the colours of sunset, which the volcano was supposed to make particularly bright. Like Hellfire? The comparison comes automatically to my mind. But I will not see it. I often miss displays of Apocalypse. By that I mean that I witness them from afar, but I am never part of it. I missed 9/11 by then days or so and when I travelled to England later, it was in a plane empty and silent like a graveyard. my wife and I were in Montreal when 7/7 happened. This time will be the same, although we are experiencing the strength of the volcano, even as far as here.

Sur le plancher des vaches...

Alors que l'on s'apprêtait à quitter Montréal avec regret, des circonstances de force majeure nous forcent à rester un peu plus longtemps ici. Nous prolongeons donc nos vacances, même si nous ne sommes plus dans un esprit vacancier. C'est ce qui me frustre le plus dans toute cette aventure (enfin, "aventure", elle se caractérise par une certaine inaction): lorsqu'on a l'esprit à retourner au quotidien, lorsqu'on se résigne à la fin de nos vacances, le congé prolongé n'a rien de plaisant.

Tout de même, se faire annuler un vol à cause d'un volcan, ça donne le vertige. Toute frustration mise à part, il faut admettre qu'on se sent bien impuissant face à pareille manifestation de l'absurdité des forces naturelles. Quand j'aurai digéré le contretemps, j'essaierai de pondre un billet existentialiste là dessus.

Petite anecdote en guise de conclusion: mon petit frère a déjà eu une fascination toute geekesque pour les volcans.

Walking on old grounds

Today, my wife and I went to the Vieux-Montréal, maybe her favourite place in the city. We went to the Musée de Pointe-à-Callière see an exhibition on Quebec legends, which I had been dying to see (my wife did not share my enthusiasm, but she enjoys Old Montreal anyway). I might blog about this one day.

When I was walking around the Vieux Montréal, I had in mind those two posts. I always liked the Vieux-Montréal, but I never thought it was as beautiful as, say, the Vieux-Québec, or indeed any old European town. Somehow, there is something lacking. Maybe because I always have the feeling of being in a tourist trap when I go there, I feel like the place is not genuine. Old historical buildings are next to new ones, everything is surrounded by tacky shops and there is always a bit of road that is being repaired. I always feel like the "Vieux" has the potential to be much better than it is. Oh well, at least we did not witness anything sinister.

Back in another life, I used to see Old-Montreal quite often as I was working there. I never felt the weight of history it should have had. Now that I come back as a tourist always in company of a non-Quebecker, I feel it more. I also enjoy myself there more. Sometimes you need distance to appreciate old grounds.

Question existentielle (5)

Tiens, ça faisait longtemps que je n'avais pas posé de question existentielle et je viens d'en trouver une savoureuse:

"-Pourquoi on repart toujours avec dans nos valises plus que ce qu'on avait amené?

Observations on a homecoming

I have been home for a few days now, the first April month where I have been in Chicoutimi in ages. A few random observations about the place:

-I forgot how ugly it was during springtime. The streets are covered with sand and dust, which makes it look like some kind of Northern Arizona or Texas. Walking around the remnants of dirty snow, I almost forget it can be beautiful sometimes. The poor look the city has right now explains the absence of pictures on this blog recently.
-I feel almost no nostalgia about the place, except when I am around the cégep. It didn't change all that much since my time there, maybe the happiest, most carefree moments of my first twenty years of existence.
-Things got better for vegetarians: for instance Café Cambio on the rue Racine has an interesting choice of vegetarian meals. My wife and I like it quite a lot, not only because its menue but also its atmosphere. It has a nice choice of beers too.
-Chicoutimi didn't change all that much, but I can't help but feel like an outsider. I don't know why.

Ad hominem et non sequitur

Ce n'est pas parce que je suis en vacances que je ne suis plus l'actualité, surtout l'actualité québécoise, d'autant plus que je suis au Québec présentement. On ne s'en affranchit pas. Lysiane Gagnon a récemment fait des siennes (encore!) accusant les tenants de la laïcité de partir en croisade contre le voile de façon hystérique et d'être motivés pour des raisons racistes. Elle ne donne rien pour étayer ses accusations et ignore complaisamment que les tenants de la laïcité comme moi-même sont également hostiles aux fondamentalistes chrétiens. Il fallait s'y attendre: c'est plus facile de lancer des accusations à l'emporte-pièce et des comparaisons odieuses que de faire un argument intellectuellement honnête. Joseph Facal lui répond.

André Pratte s'en donne également à coeur joie aujourd'hui. Il utilise une autre sorte de logique fallacieuse: l'argument non sequitur. Que les immigrants aient de la difficulté à s'intégrer au marché du travail au Québec et que la majorité québécoise soit partiellement responsable de cet état de fait est au plus un élément très périphérique du débat sur la laïcité au Québec. Celle-ci est attaquée par des fondamentalistes de souche. Qu'il y ait plus ou moins d'immigrants sur le marché du travail ne changera rien au coeur du débat: la nature neutre et areligieuse de l'espace public, la nécessité d'être tous égaux devant la loi, etc.

A time for sugar

For the first time in four years, I was back in Québec for the "temps des sucres", which means the time when we the maple syrup and its products get made. It was also Easter. So it was and it is still a wonderful time for my sweet tooth. I had for the first time in four years (four years!) maple butter and maple taffy. I don't care all that much about the taffy, although it was nice to taste the very distinctive taste of maple and smell its spicy perfume. And maple taffy, like maple syrup, has a lovely amber or golden colour. But I was happier to have maple butter on my toasts in the morning, as it is something I cannot get in Europe.

And I got a dark chocolate rabbit for Easter. Dark, not with milk. A sign that I am older I supposed. It was quality stuff. As a child, I usually had one by Lulu or sometimes the Pères trappistes. I might still buy some, leftovers from Easter, out of pure nostalgia.

Des nouvelles du bout du monde

Des nouvelles de moi, après une absence relativement longue du blogue. Je suis à Chicoutimi (le bout du monde du titre et de la chanson) depuis hier, après un bref séjour à Québec. Selon ce que je vois d'ici, la ville est prise d'une torpeur toute printanière, mais ma femme et moi sommes ici les seuls en vacances, il semblerait. Je vois que je suis un expatrié dans ces moments-là: j'ai perdu l'habitude du court congé pascal québécois. En Angleterre, il dure deux semaines.

Enfin, par contraste avec notre visite à Québec, le séjour à Chicoutimi est petit et intimiste. Je n'ai pas encore vu l'eau profonde du Saguenay qui donne son nom à la ville (et en passant, le nom de la ville devrait être Chicoutimi, pas Saguenay), mais j'ai revu des vieux amis, mon filleul et sa grande soeur, j'ai renoué avec le vieux linge et le printemps québécois (ainsi que sa nature profondément changeante). C'est donc un séjour tranquille, mais je crois que ma femme et moi en avions besoin. Je songe à me faire un marathon d'Omertà. Mais pour le moment, j'apprécie le farniente.

Musing on a walk in Montreal

The title and the topic of this post were inspired by this book of Jean-Jacques Rousseau, which I read in another life in cégep, and re-read in my first year in Montreal. I am not the biggest admirer of Rousseau, but I do like the idea of giving the results of reflections made randomly during a walk. So I am in Montreal for Good Friday, I will be in Quebec City for the weekend and Easter. I haven't celebrated Easter in Québec for years, not since 2006 actually.

I was thinking about this this morning when I was walking with my wife on the Plateau Mont-Royal: now I only see episodically a place that was my everyday environment for years. Seasonal changes, the look of the then familiar surroundings, all this I am not part of it anymore. I rediscover old shops and restaurants I love, but I also see with a certain sadness new places that replaced old ones. I am not quite part of Montreal anymore and maybe I am now a complete expat, as a Quebecker and a former Montrealer. I don't like to consider myself a former Montrealer, by the way. I feel like one even though I don't live here anymore.

So yes, we walked today, I rediscovered Montreal during springtime and April, or to be precise one aspect of it. Today it is sunny and warm like summertime, but the trees are bare like a November day before the first snow. Montreal is pleasant on a warm spring day, but I cannot say that it is beautiful. With two recent posts in mind (this one and that one), I paid a lot of attention to the neighbourhood's architecture, and not only the twisted outdoor stairways. There are plenty of beautiful old fashioned buildings here, which mixes sometimes well, sometimes poorly, with modern constructions (well, it is a figure of speech, some are from the 60s, 70s, 80s), which are sometimes nightmarishly ugly.

Being in Montreal means a number of things, a change of diet (breakfasts and lunch especially), living in French and more importantly the Quebec variety (hopefully I'll speak with my Saguenay accent again), getting some books in French, etc. For my wife, it is rediscovering local coffee shops (today it was this one). I don't live here anymore, but walking here, I felt home nevertheless.

Un matin montréalais

Je suis à Montréal depuis hier, home sweet home et tout ça. Il fait un temps splendide pour un Vendredi saint. Nous serons demain à Québec, où nous célébrerons Pâques. Je n'ai pas été au Québec pour Pâques depuis quatre ans, ça me fait un bien immense de revoir le pays au printemps.