Two's Company

It was almost dusk as we rocked up at our hotel in Montreal. The sunset just missed as we made our way from central station; missed because the buildings here are huge, such a contrast to Ottawa.

The only thing really on our mind was food, so we set about trying to locate somewhere not too far from the hotel.

Situated close to Chinatown, we decided on, yes… you’ve got it… Mexican.

Food was just ok. The cold evening air flooded in through the open patio-type windows, both of us grateful for the sweaters we’d shoved on as we’d headed out earlier.

It wasn’t long before we set off back to the hotel, enjoying seeing the hotrod, not so hot as it broke down at the lights.

Next morning breakfast was continental- style and pleasant enough.

Montreal was named by the founder (Jacques Cartier) who had wandered up the hillside with some local Indians to be shown the view. He named the hill Mount Royal and hence Montreal was born.  

Helen had set her eye on completing Montreal’s number one attraction, so we headed out for Mount Royal.

What I didn’t realise was that she’d decided on breaking the ascent record.

Like a bullet she scampered up the steps.

More and more steps, set upon set of the buggers…

Recovering at the top while taking in the view, Montreal was vast. To be honest, not the prettiest of cityscapes.

After all, Helen said it is a major port town!

The views weren’t bad, but certainly fell well below legendary.

From the pavilion we made our way to the Mount Royal Cross, an interesting structure, so, selfie captured to show we’d made the extra effort.

The park and boating lake provided space for families and extended families to enjoy the open air. BBQ after BBQ could be seen, with wispy smoke circling the trees and the aroma of food filling my nostrils.

Tummy rumbling, we made our way back to Montreal and found a spot to have a drink.

Legs aching, knowing yet again they’d been challenged, carried us back to the hotel to complete the day.

Sunday Mass in the Basilica was lovely, although I understood not a word of the French and Latin spoken.

The singing was fabulous, as was the violin duet.

The organ sounded perfect, all very atmospheric.

We spent the afternoon exploring the old market building, the cobbles of Rue St Paul, the port area and Rue St Catherine.

The port area was very much just that.

The streets were full of interesting little — and some rather large — shops, bistros and cafes.

We had a mid-afternoon snack before heading back for a little relaxation and feet-up time, before deciding on a venue for the evening meal.

As we were close to Chinatown,  we thought that we should actually sample Chinese.

Helen read more reviews, changed her mind, read more reviews and, an hour and a half later, we were sitting in a basement restaurant, the one she’d originally picked before she’d started reading more reviews!

By the time we left, it was packed with customers. We’d eaten, enjoyed it and headed back for a well-earned kip.

Our final day in Montreal gave us an opportunity to attempt to explore the underground city, 30 miles of interconnected tunnels designed to keep people moving and working without being affected by the extreme winter cold or the warmth of summer.

We managed about 200 metres before failing to find the next tunnel on route to our intended location.

So much for the underground city!

Onward overground.

Next stop was the Mary, Queen of the World Cathedral. Inside, it was noticeably brighter and less fussy than the Basilica we’d visited the previous day. Apparently modelled on St Peter’s in Rome, it was another impressive building and well worth the visit.

Finally, we dashed across the city via the Metro, which was modern, clean and swift, to stroll around the Olympic Village. Fifty years old this year, and boy could you tell.

Serious structural renovations were taking place, the concourses showing signs of deterioration, with cracks appearing in previous attempts to cover the decaying concrete metropolis.

You could imagine how solid and impressive it must have looked in 1976.  Today, though, it feels like a massive white elephant and must be costing millions to save.

And so, with Montreal explored, it was time to pack our bags and head for the station.

Montreal had certainly given us plenty to see – Mount Royal, the Basilica, the old streets, the underground city and the Olympic Village, but if I’m being honest, it never quite captured us in the way Ottawa had.

Perhaps it was the sheer size of the place, perhaps the massive buildings and the lack of that old-world feel we’d enjoyed elsewhere.

Whatever it was, Montreal hadn’t quite hit our mark. Not everywhere can be a favourite, and that’s probably what makes the places that really grab you feel even more special.

And as I write this, we’re on the train heading to Quebec.

Montreal is behind us.

Quebec is calling…