Montreal-girl in the making (or woman. Whatever).
Could it be that I’m turning into a Montreal girl? Now, there’s something to be said for being on a road with minimal traffic listing to Rascal Flatts (yes, I’m serious), but my days here don’t seem to be so foreign anymore.
Sure I notice that not many people look like me, I have an accent different to anyone else, I still have my “I hate Quebec” moments (I’m pretty sure Quebecers have, “I hate Quebec” moments), but…my days are almost starting to feel….normal.
This morning I was dead tired, but I got up, did my hairz and fancy makeup, wore my fancy jeans (it’s jeans day to support xyz cause), got on the train, even freaking brought an umbrella (I walk 1.5km from the train station to work and it’s raining) and picked up a coffee on my way to the office. None of it felt weird. There are a few points on my route to work that are even habitual:
1. Saying hello to the guy that hands out the free newspaper. There are 2 free newspapers in Montreal, and although I prefer not to get either to save a tree, at the final train station, there is this man, who is soooooooo sad because EVERYONE already has their paper as it’s handed out at every train station on the way. He just stands there, newspapers in hand, praying someone will take JUST ONE. I always make a big deal of saying hello to him and thanking him for the paper….and we kinda have a thing going. On days we don’t see each other, I actually find myself thinking about him, wondering if there is someone else that was super thankful to get his paper…he’s now a part of my daily routine
2. Walking up the hill past the strippers. This hill….I’m sure it has a gradient of 0.00001%... but seriously?! On days that I’m tired and in the winter, it may as well be Mount Kenya. I walk so slow and actually think,” OK, I’m almost at the strippers. Once I get to the strippers I’m only two crosswalks away from work”. Every single morning I’m so thankful to see the strippers (apparently it’s the most famous one in Montreal).
3. One the way home, there is a group of buildings, a church, and these trees that looks like a piece of art. I wish I had started to take a picture of it one day out of every month to see the progression. It’s still grey and ugly here, yet nearly every day I look at it, think, I’m going to take a picture of that scene, and I never do, it’s the equivalent to the Sistine Chapel (photo-comparison only). It’s something better that’s seen in person than photographed. I’m actually….happy to pass by it every single day and see the changes. I get all “one with nature” and think, Wow, that’s crazy freaking beautiful…does anyone else ever notice this?
4. Also on the way home is a man that I often see. He’s homeless, clearly has some mental problems, and for the first few months of my downtown life, made me really upset. I wanted to help him, I wanted to give him food….but had no idea what to do. After speaking to someone I really trust about it that has a very open spirit and mind, I came to the conclusion that I could smile and say hello to him. And in my mind, wish him a safe and healthy evening. Perhaps that sounds…very removed from me, very insensitive that I don’t rush in and help…but at this point, for me to be healthy, that’s the only thing that I can do. That’s the only part of this that’s in my control.
Ok, that’s all I got for this morning. Recently a friend that has read some of my old writing has encouraged me to put pen to paper (or finger to keyboard) for 30 minutes a day or something like that. I won’t always have lots to write about….but I’m back in the headspace where I think that it’s time to start writing again. I used to have so much fun.