Montreal

From Ottawa, it was on to Montreal, which we were worried about because we had heard that it was full of French people.  Well, Les Quebecois, to be precise, but these are people who take their French background so seriously, they are attempting to stamp out English as a language and make life increasingly difficult for the small percentage (and dropping) of English-speakers who live there.

But we needn't have worried.  The Quebecois were LOVELY.  Like all the Canadians so far, they were extremely welcoming, and the staff at our hotel were absolutely adorable with their little French accents, sounding like that little gray mouse who's always in the Tom and Jerry cartoons.

LES QUEBECOIS:  En garde Moos-ure Poosycat!

Our hotel was the "Hotel De L'Institut".  This is a training establishment for catering students where the guests are there for them to practice on.  I recommend it highly as it means that the people serving you haven't had the requisite number of years dealing with tourists to have started regarding them all as scum yet.  As a result, the service was great, the staff were friendly and we got 4 star accomodation for 2 star prices.

Of course, it is considered only polite to at least ATTEMPT le Francais, although in my case it is also extremely stupid.  I attempted to buy dinner at a fast-food place our first night there, which you wouldn't think was that difficult, but still came away with completely the wrong thing.  I wonder what I was saying in French:

ME:   Pardonez-moi s'il vous plat mais je voudrais deux burgers de ham et deux frittes.

(Translation:  I am a f*ckwit.  Please give me two burgers, no chips and spit in the burger-buns pronto Jean-Jacques.)

But Montreal had its upside as well.  It is an extremely cool city.  I hate to admit it, but the French are just cooler than we are.  Their influence was even evident in Ottawa, and gave the place its personality.  The people are funky, the cafes are welcoming, the architecture is stunning.   It's all very irritating.

And then there's the women.  Actually, I've never been too fond of French glamour, although I will admit they have it.  I’ve always thought that French women seem to prefer to go for the Extremely Glamourous Hooker Look.  Undoubtedly their clothes are the latest, most expensive and most glamourous, but then they spoil the effect by dyeing their hair viciously blonde and slapping on make-up like they are burns victims or something.  Maybe it's just me, but there's also that whole slightly sleazy air they have about them, like they're so glam they don't need to wash to be attractive.

FRENCH WOMAN:  I 'ave no need to shave mah armpeets.  For I am Simone Signoret.

Caroline and I wandered around downtown Montreal, drinking coffee and enjoying looking at all the people.  We ventured into the odd shop, and it was in Montreal that I got Mechelle the present I had been looking for ever since we arrived in Hawaii.  

For those of you who don't know Mechelle, she and I share a taste for the extremely tacky and shit, and I KNEW that the USA would be the place to find it.  How ironic then, that it should be in Canada that I finally found the perfect gift.  The Jesus Action Figure with Posable Arms and Gliding Motion.

Yes!  You can buy Jesus Action Figures here!  Imagine how a Jesus action figure would spice up games with your old Star Wars action figures, ("Your Jesus mind tricks will not work on me, boy.")  So I had to buy her it and I hope Jesus brings her many hours of sacriligeous fun.
It was in Montreal that I saw the most bizarrely polite graffiti in a toilet ever.  

On the back of the bog door in  Border's bookshop in Montreal, someone had written, "Only you are accountable for your own actions.  Do not blame others, for they will judge you according to who you are, not your race."

Underneath, someone had added, "You are so naive."

WHAT THE HELL IS THAT???!!!  In the UK, it would have been something like, "SUK MY C*CK I LIKE IT DIRTY."  Underneath which someone would have replied, "FILTHY F*CKER."  Or something like that.  I think this graffiti says more about the Canadians than anything else I have written so far.

Even the side of my fridge used to have "PIGF*CKER" and "RATSH*T" written on the side of it in magnetic letters.  Thanks for that Caroline, by the way.