Montréal.

We went on the biggest weekend of the year for the city of Montréal - the weekend of the Grand Prix, the Francofolies de Montréal Festival (a musical festival) and all sorts of parties overflowing from both events - including a joyous fireworks show.



We rode around everywhere on bikes, because Montréal has Vélibs! (Well, they are called "Bixis"). Just like Paris, except better because the bikes are not marred by the public for fun.




Nestor was there in Montréal, the famous majordome (butler) in the world of Tintin. I guess they love Tintin too.









One of my favorite things about Montréal was the French. When I would speak to cab drivers, they would tell me that I had a Parisian accent and would applaud my French. Let's just say it doesn't happen that way in another place I lived where people speak a lot of French. I made sure Xavier was paying attention when the compliments were paid. I was quite surprised at how different the French was in Montréal - the accent particularly. It seemed a lot like an American accent in French. And their vocabularly logic was much more sensible to me. For example, a stoplight in Montréal is lumière - direct translation from light, but in Paris they use feu instead. When I first arrived in Paris, people laughed at me for employing lumière (and for so many other reasons, let's be honest). In Montréal and Québec they often translate very literally. Sometimes it is surprising - stop signs, for example. In France, stop signs say STOP. In Québec, stop signs say:



We ate the famous Poutine, which is french fries with cheese curds mixed in and gravy on top. Very funny mixture.

Formule 1.

We went to Montréal this weekend. We went for the Canadian Grand Prix. That's right: Formula One racing. I really believed I would hate it. I was rolling my eyes going. Then, it captivated me. This is one of the great things about being in a 'mixed couple' - making 'cultural' discoveries you would never otherwise have made. The Formula 1 track in Montréal is on an island in the middle of the Saint-Laurent river. So we took the metro and got off, surfaced and immediately felt the agitation in the ground under our feet. And that says nothing of the blast in our ears. You had to put ear plugs in, if not, hearing damage was assured. Even with ear plugs in, it was almost like a concert - the zips and the whines and the tremor of the pitch of the cars. You could walk over bridges and feel an intense vibration even in your nostrils when they would pass underneath. Maybe a reasonable person can only enjoy something this tawdry if it is a lived experience - if all 5 senses are taking it in (that is what I am telling myself). The fumes were even compelling.

The cars go 360 km/h (220 mph). They do 70 laps around this race course with hairpin turns and long stretches (this is not Indy-whatever where they just whir around a loop again and again). They stop 2 to 3 to 4 times strategically during the race to change tires and refuel - this is like a 4-second stop. 4 seconds. Insane. Below there is a video of the pit stop - and a pit stop that resulted in a huge fire (not surprising considering the heat of the things + petroleum). Xavier can do the noise of these cars really well. He practiced a lot as a kid in Europe (I think most European kids like Forumla 1). I used to make fun of him for it, but now I'm going to start practicing myself. Monaco is next.


(Photo credit here).