Montreal tends to be a city full of divisions. English and French, natives and immigrants, neighbourhoods, generations, sometimes it feels as if everyone has a bone to pick with someone else. It makes for a tense atmosphere sometimes, no matter how much I love the city. Add to that a dreadfully, depressingly long winter like this year, Montrealers could use a break. And we got one this year - beating the Boston Bruins in the Stanley Cup playoffs.
I'm not a die-hard hockey fan by a long shot. I can't name more than 3 or 4 players on the Montreal Canadiens, I can't tell you what position they play, or if they're good or bad. But living in a hockey-crazed city like Montreal, some of it can't help but rub off. There's one time every year that I become a Habs fan, and that's the playoffs. It's the atmosphere that I love. The city lights up red, white and blue (literally - La Tour McGill's triangle penthouse is lit up in team colours for the length of the playoffs) and there's a palpable excitement in the air. People who would usually never speak can have a conversation about last nights game and get excited for the next one and this year especially, high five over kicking Boston's ass. Because for as long as I have been a semi-hockey playoff fan, Boston has been the team to beat. They are the team that kicks us out of the playoffs every year, and this season's 'win in 7' gave the city a reason to celebrate. And believe me - we f****** celebrated. Granted I was working, so I missed the winning game, but I could here the craziness during the entire game from the sports bar all the way across the street. Just that cheering put the entire staff in a better mood. And from the second the Habs scored the winning goal at least until the end of my shift at midnight, cars were streaming by honking their horns, flying flags out the windows, cheering at the people in the street.
I love the joy that hockey brings to this city, if I don't love the actual sport. The first nice weather of the year and a real shot at the Stanley Cup and Montreal becomes a different city.
Friday, 16 May 2014
Saturday, 3 May 2014
Marché Jean-Talon
If you ask me where my happy place is, at least in Montreal, I would name two places. One is the Tiffany & Co. store in the Ritz Carlton. There's something uplifting about those diamonds and little blue boxes. The second is the Jean-Talon market. The market is situated in the heart of Little Italy, or (officially) Villeray, with the main entrance on Rue Henri-Julien. Open year-round, 7 days a week, beginning at 7 in the morning, vendors pile their stalls full of beautiful fresh produce and local artisanal products, sold at very tempting prices.
Until I moved out of my mother's house, I had never really appreciated the market. A trip was always fun, but I never thought of coming on my own. Then by a perfect coinciding of circumstances, I began to need to buy my own groceries, and my mother moved to a beautiful duplex just steps away from Marché Jean-Talon. I wandered over a few times and for the first time started really noticing what was being sold. All of it looked amazing. I had never had to really think about what I wanted to eat before, just assuming there would be something in the fridge. Now that I had to actually *gasp* fill the fridge myself! I needed to figure out what I wanted to fill it with. Here was my chance to start actually paying attention to what I was putting in my body, and on top of that all of this was just so damn cheap! Christ, a single avocado costs 2$ at the grocery store - here you get a pail of 4 or 5 for 3,50$. Instant addiction. Weekly trips from my 'hood to my mother's place to visit became my produce-shopping days as well.
It's become a ritual for me, my weekly visits to the market. I love walking through the aisles, just looking at first, potatoes of every shape and color, hundreds of stalks of slender green asparagus, berries so ripe they sweeten the air, the fragrant herb stalls and the apple vendors surrounded by bushels of shiny Cortlands and Macintoshes. I always buy a bottle of cider from Les Vergers Eric Tanguay to sip while I do my shopping. The ladies who work there have the best tricks for a kick-ass apple pie. I've learned to go during the week if possible - weekends see the place packed with families, tourists, and everyone else. Weekdays are much quieter. It's easier to find what you want, and easier to speak with the vendors and ask questions, not to mention infinitely easier to wander around aimlessly, without having to worry about being crashed into by frantic shoppers in a rush to get Sunday dinner on the table.
Occasionally my mother will join me and we'll end our shopping date at one of the cafés or restaurants surrounding the market. It's the perfect end to an always pleasant activity and I can't help but wonder why everyone doesn't come here. Everything is so beautiful there. Between the food and the people, the pride in good products and the palpable potential for an amazing meal, it's impossible to walk out of Marché Jean-Talon without a smile (and a heavy grocery bag).
Until I moved out of my mother's house, I had never really appreciated the market. A trip was always fun, but I never thought of coming on my own. Then by a perfect coinciding of circumstances, I began to need to buy my own groceries, and my mother moved to a beautiful duplex just steps away from Marché Jean-Talon. I wandered over a few times and for the first time started really noticing what was being sold. All of it looked amazing. I had never had to really think about what I wanted to eat before, just assuming there would be something in the fridge. Now that I had to actually *gasp* fill the fridge myself! I needed to figure out what I wanted to fill it with. Here was my chance to start actually paying attention to what I was putting in my body, and on top of that all of this was just so damn cheap! Christ, a single avocado costs 2$ at the grocery store - here you get a pail of 4 or 5 for 3,50$. Instant addiction. Weekly trips from my 'hood to my mother's place to visit became my produce-shopping days as well.
It's become a ritual for me, my weekly visits to the market. I love walking through the aisles, just looking at first, potatoes of every shape and color, hundreds of stalks of slender green asparagus, berries so ripe they sweeten the air, the fragrant herb stalls and the apple vendors surrounded by bushels of shiny Cortlands and Macintoshes. I always buy a bottle of cider from Les Vergers Eric Tanguay to sip while I do my shopping. The ladies who work there have the best tricks for a kick-ass apple pie. I've learned to go during the week if possible - weekends see the place packed with families, tourists, and everyone else. Weekdays are much quieter. It's easier to find what you want, and easier to speak with the vendors and ask questions, not to mention infinitely easier to wander around aimlessly, without having to worry about being crashed into by frantic shoppers in a rush to get Sunday dinner on the table.
Occasionally my mother will join me and we'll end our shopping date at one of the cafés or restaurants surrounding the market. It's the perfect end to an always pleasant activity and I can't help but wonder why everyone doesn't come here. Everything is so beautiful there. Between the food and the people, the pride in good products and the palpable potential for an amazing meal, it's impossible to walk out of Marché Jean-Talon without a smile (and a heavy grocery bag).
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