Montreal, my village

I usually hate, hate, hate the BRIT Awards, I had a sour taste about it since I watched a glimpse of it back in 2007 and there was Russel Brand hosting (he was a pathetic excuse of an host and I have contempt for him as a celebrity). I don't like these kinds of ceremonies in general. But this year, Arcade Fire won the International Album award and some other one I cannot remember (this is how much I am up to date with contemporary music) and well, they are from Montreal. So I allowed myself a burst of wanton patriotism and shouted and cheered a good bit. I have a confession to make right now: I haven't even listened to their music and I didn't know they were from Montreal before tonight. I am not even sure I even like their music, or the little of it I heard tonight anyway. Tomorrow I probably won't even listen to them. But this is how blindly, stupidly patriotic I am sometimes when it comes to my village.

Because Montreal is my village. I was born in Quebec City, its nemesis city, I grew up in Chicoutimi, I spent a relatively short time of my life in Montreal comparatively (about six years of my adult life), yet I consider it my place. During my first year in England, I was often introduced as "the guy from Montreal". Because I was and because I am still, to the core, through and through. Yes, I come from the inhabited North of Quebec, I have this accent I never lost when I speak French, but this is the case of many Montrealers. It is there that I feel home. So tonight I couldn't help but feel homesick and in the same time stupidly proud.

And the picture at your right was taken on the Plateau Mont-Royal during my last trip in Montreal, last year in April. Right now it is much snowier.