The Fabled East
Well, I have arrived, at long last, in Montreal. After five days in Ottawa with Adam, Sarada, Andrew and his partner Caley, I have made my way here. It is cold out, but not ridiculously so. It is more grey than anything. This time in the winter is all greys and browns. It snowed when I arrived, but that has been steadily melting, leaving the streets slick and wet. Dangerous things when you're walking home at 3am from the pub. Still though, a good reminder of why I live out west. Everyone that comes from here complains about the clouds and rain there, but I've only had one day of sunshine since arriving, so I'm not so sure Victoria's that different. And now I'm in Montreal--to wander the streets of Canada's most interesting city. Still, when I was walking around today I stood for a moment, somewhere between Sherbrooke and Notre Dame De Grace, in a relatively quiet part of the city, and heard this buzz. There is a constant loud here, on the edges of your hearing. Not loud to bombard, but a loud that buzzes at the fabric of your being. This is why I live where I do. Thursday I fly.