Une pour Montreal
I know I'm not in the US now, cause there is serious cigarette smoking going on in this Internet cafe. What's up gang. As much as I love Chocolate City, I had to get out for a few days. On the Vermonter I sat for 8 hours, crossed the border where a customs agent gave me shady looks (big ups to me for looking menacing, if only for a minute) and here I am in the smoky yet stylish cafe, where guys in front are spending their $4 pr/hr playing some computer game that keeps going "Danty dooong!" Or something like that.
So Montreal is absolutely beautiful. I wish I could give this compliment en francais, but it is not to be. These lips haven't uttered discernable French since the eighth grade, and yesterday's feeble attempts reminded me I should stick to English and Spanish. (Si, hablo un poquito). Fortunately, I shared a room with a German gal who speaks French tres bien, and we've been walking these streets ragged: Quartier Chinois, Quartier Latin, the Port, Sherbrooke. If it's in Montreal, I'm about to find it.
Straight up, I took this trip K-solo. (Remember him?) Thought it would be just a post-feminist blast to travel alone, see a city that's been on my to-visit list for years. (F*CK! yells some guy too old to play video games at 2 o'clock in the afternoon). That is until I was at the all-but deserted St. Albans, Vt. station at 10 pm and knowing not a soul. City folk know how crazy life gets when the lights go out. Because no one else knows me to ask, I say to myself, "Rhonda, really, what are you doing? You do not come from a long line of Amelia Earharts. Though brave and fabulous, your people stay put." But, being true to me, I gotta go. Go find out what's out there. So.
Next morning, I put my nice face on, make a friend and off we go. Today's visit: some beautiful church on the blue subway line. Will fill in more details later.
Au revoir!
So Montreal is absolutely beautiful. I wish I could give this compliment en francais, but it is not to be. These lips haven't uttered discernable French since the eighth grade, and yesterday's feeble attempts reminded me I should stick to English and Spanish. (Si, hablo un poquito). Fortunately, I shared a room with a German gal who speaks French tres bien, and we've been walking these streets ragged: Quartier Chinois, Quartier Latin, the Port, Sherbrooke. If it's in Montreal, I'm about to find it.
Straight up, I took this trip K-solo. (Remember him?) Thought it would be just a post-feminist blast to travel alone, see a city that's been on my to-visit list for years. (F*CK! yells some guy too old to play video games at 2 o'clock in the afternoon). That is until I was at the all-but deserted St. Albans, Vt. station at 10 pm and knowing not a soul. City folk know how crazy life gets when the lights go out. Because no one else knows me to ask, I say to myself, "Rhonda, really, what are you doing? You do not come from a long line of Amelia Earharts. Though brave and fabulous, your people stay put." But, being true to me, I gotta go. Go find out what's out there. So.
Next morning, I put my nice face on, make a friend and off we go. Today's visit: some beautiful church on the blue subway line. Will fill in more details later.
Au revoir!
posted by Rhonda Henderson at 2:56 PM
1 Comments:
Ms. Henderson:
Your writing is way too rich to be geting nothing but blogspam. I enjoy your blog. Hope your northern adventures are worthwhile. If you get a chance you might try Mt. Tremblant up in the hills. Nice village.
And really, you could establish the first in a long line of Amelia Earharts (well at least the line that avoided crashes in the Pacific).
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