Montreal Life, Metro Mayhem, and Speaking French
Montrealers seem to exude a lust for life, or more specifically a lust for the outdoors in summer. I first thought about this during our second night here at the B-52s concert. It was the closing act of the Festival International de Jazz de Montreal. Jodi and I were out with perhaps 10,000 other people on a warm Monday night. Monday night was filled with people out having fun! On Sunday night, even without a concert, the streets near our hostel were filled with people walking, talking, and dining. We saw the same thing last night in the Old Port area. Most people here also eat al fresco. Yesterday at lunch on Rue St. Catherine, every restaurant had street terraces filled to capacity along with only a sprinkling of patrons inside.
I believe this outdoor life comes from embracing the warm, fine weather after being cooped up for months through a long winter. Jodi reminded that people here aren't really caged by winter, though, because there are many things to do outside: skiing, sledding, hockey.....all I think of is shoveling snow. Still, something brings them out.
Perhaps I see so many people out because Montreal is such a large city. My mother in law compares it to New York. There are obviously size differences, but Montreal possesses a large, dense urban core. We have been staying inside that urban core in the Quartier Latin. Imagine Norfolk's Ghent on a huge scale with everything out in the open. We are near a university and, most importantly, we are less than a block away from a Metro crossroads of three lines.
We have done well with the Montreal Metro (given that I love heavy rail, it's not surprising at all). We have each purchased three day occasional ride cards, where we are able to ride the metro an unlimited number of times over three consecutive days. We have ridden all over Montreal using the Metro. The frequency of trains has been convenient and the location of stops has enabled us to do well without a rented car. The Metro includes the storied Underground City and numerous works of art in the stations (although the artwork pales compared to what I have heard is in the Moscow subways). I have had a dim appreciation of the Underground City. It amounts to a large mall tucked underneath the streets. I imagine it would be a wonderful respite from snow and cold, but in the summer it just separates you from the sunshine.
We started roughly with the Metro. We arrived at about 8:00 PM Sunday with no Canadian currency. The banks and exchange centers at the train station were closed already (how did I not think of that before we got here?). We soldiered on out of the station to find the nearest metro stop, hoping that we could use credit cards to purchase fare cards - our American currency certainly wasn't going to get us there. We wandered around a bit looking for a Metro sign. Rain and thunder threatened as we circled a block and a half before finding a Metro entrance. Nearing the entrance, we find two doors: one covered in yellow caution tape, I pressed upon the other...and found it stuck. Nuts. We continued around the corner. Jodi suggested walking into the atrium of the large office building we were circling. We did, and found an escalator down to the Metro.
We weren't through yet, though. We approached a fare card kiosk which took credit cards (hurray!) and I started pushing buttons based on the numbers indicating instructions (everything was written in French). In my haste, I missed the “for English” button, but Jodi found and pressed it. I input my credit card. It was refused. I tried it again, refused again. Irritated and trying to think how we were going to get to the hostel, I tried our everyday credit card (we have a separate card we use on travels, and one that Jodi informed the credit card company that we would be using it in Canada). The everyday card was also refused. I tried using it as a debit card. It was refused again. Jodi counseled that we ask for help from the station attendant (you can get a sense of how we travel).
This is where my nervousness over my lack of French came in. I had visualized in my mind of first using French when we checked into the hostel. I didn't have a plan for what to say here, and I didn't know how to say, “my credit card isn't working at the fare kiosk”. So I smiled and used English. The station attendant was extremely helpful and friendly. She came out of her booth and tried to help us use the fare kiosk. It turned out that we were doing everything right, it was just that the machine was refusing both of our credit cards. We explained to the attendant that we only had American currency and had no way of getting around. The attendant offered to exchange small amounts of our American currency on a one to one basis (which is actually a great exchange!). We traded eight dollars American for eight dollars Canadian in order to get the farecards for the evening.
We were though, almost. By now, I had completely lost my concentration and wasn't looking closely at situations around me. I tried to run the farecard through the entry gate in the same manner as the Washington Metro. It spit it back at me and beeped a rejection tone. I tried this three times, each time holding the card a different way: magnetic strip on the left, then right, then reversed. The attendant then instructed me to swipe the card on the pad atop the gate (there are two types of cards to use: one that feeds through the turnstyle and one which you swipe on top). Jodi did swiped her card on the next gate and walked through. I swiped mine in a back and forth motion that created another rejection. At this point, I don't like a terrible traveler defeated by a Metro station. It was quite funny. The attendant helped me again and manually opened a turnstyle and instructed me that I only needed to hold the card over the turnstyle and it would accept my farecard. Since then, I haven't had any troubles at all in the Metro!
In terms of speaking French, I haven't been completely hopeless. I have actually assembled enough vocabulary to exchange money at the bank, purchase tickets for a museum, and get seated at restaurants. One difference between language here and language in India is this: in India, people looked at me and assumed (correctly) that I didn't speak Kannada and would start speaking to me in English. In Quebec, as Jodi pointed out to me, I look like everyone else so people start speaking French to me. As the conversation progresses, my French skills quickly run out and the other person seamlessly switches to English.
The initial Metro struggle makes for a good story, but is very different from the other experiences we have had in Montreal. We have visited cool museums, enjoyed a fun concert, and walked about the city. Jodi even bought a new backpack (which is notable) from a Roots store. We plan to go to Parc du Mont Royal this morning and then catch an afternoon train to Quebec City.
I believe this outdoor life comes from embracing the warm, fine weather after being cooped up for months through a long winter. Jodi reminded that people here aren't really caged by winter, though, because there are many things to do outside: skiing, sledding, hockey.....all I think of is shoveling snow. Still, something brings them out.
Perhaps I see so many people out because Montreal is such a large city. My mother in law compares it to New York. There are obviously size differences, but Montreal possesses a large, dense urban core. We have been staying inside that urban core in the Quartier Latin. Imagine Norfolk's Ghent on a huge scale with everything out in the open. We are near a university and, most importantly, we are less than a block away from a Metro crossroads of three lines.
We have done well with the Montreal Metro (given that I love heavy rail, it's not surprising at all). We have each purchased three day occasional ride cards, where we are able to ride the metro an unlimited number of times over three consecutive days. We have ridden all over Montreal using the Metro. The frequency of trains has been convenient and the location of stops has enabled us to do well without a rented car. The Metro includes the storied Underground City and numerous works of art in the stations (although the artwork pales compared to what I have heard is in the Moscow subways). I have had a dim appreciation of the Underground City. It amounts to a large mall tucked underneath the streets. I imagine it would be a wonderful respite from snow and cold, but in the summer it just separates you from the sunshine.
We started roughly with the Metro. We arrived at about 8:00 PM Sunday with no Canadian currency. The banks and exchange centers at the train station were closed already (how did I not think of that before we got here?). We soldiered on out of the station to find the nearest metro stop, hoping that we could use credit cards to purchase fare cards - our American currency certainly wasn't going to get us there. We wandered around a bit looking for a Metro sign. Rain and thunder threatened as we circled a block and a half before finding a Metro entrance. Nearing the entrance, we find two doors: one covered in yellow caution tape, I pressed upon the other...and found it stuck. Nuts. We continued around the corner. Jodi suggested walking into the atrium of the large office building we were circling. We did, and found an escalator down to the Metro.
We weren't through yet, though. We approached a fare card kiosk which took credit cards (hurray!) and I started pushing buttons based on the numbers indicating instructions (everything was written in French). In my haste, I missed the “for English” button, but Jodi found and pressed it. I input my credit card. It was refused. I tried it again, refused again. Irritated and trying to think how we were going to get to the hostel, I tried our everyday credit card (we have a separate card we use on travels, and one that Jodi informed the credit card company that we would be using it in Canada). The everyday card was also refused. I tried using it as a debit card. It was refused again. Jodi counseled that we ask for help from the station attendant (you can get a sense of how we travel).
This is where my nervousness over my lack of French came in. I had visualized in my mind of first using French when we checked into the hostel. I didn't have a plan for what to say here, and I didn't know how to say, “my credit card isn't working at the fare kiosk”. So I smiled and used English. The station attendant was extremely helpful and friendly. She came out of her booth and tried to help us use the fare kiosk. It turned out that we were doing everything right, it was just that the machine was refusing both of our credit cards. We explained to the attendant that we only had American currency and had no way of getting around. The attendant offered to exchange small amounts of our American currency on a one to one basis (which is actually a great exchange!). We traded eight dollars American for eight dollars Canadian in order to get the farecards for the evening.
We were though, almost. By now, I had completely lost my concentration and wasn't looking closely at situations around me. I tried to run the farecard through the entry gate in the same manner as the Washington Metro. It spit it back at me and beeped a rejection tone. I tried this three times, each time holding the card a different way: magnetic strip on the left, then right, then reversed. The attendant then instructed me to swipe the card on the pad atop the gate (there are two types of cards to use: one that feeds through the turnstyle and one which you swipe on top). Jodi did swiped her card on the next gate and walked through. I swiped mine in a back and forth motion that created another rejection. At this point, I don't like a terrible traveler defeated by a Metro station. It was quite funny. The attendant helped me again and manually opened a turnstyle and instructed me that I only needed to hold the card over the turnstyle and it would accept my farecard. Since then, I haven't had any troubles at all in the Metro!
In terms of speaking French, I haven't been completely hopeless. I have actually assembled enough vocabulary to exchange money at the bank, purchase tickets for a museum, and get seated at restaurants. One difference between language here and language in India is this: in India, people looked at me and assumed (correctly) that I didn't speak Kannada and would start speaking to me in English. In Quebec, as Jodi pointed out to me, I look like everyone else so people start speaking French to me. As the conversation progresses, my French skills quickly run out and the other person seamlessly switches to English.
The initial Metro struggle makes for a good story, but is very different from the other experiences we have had in Montreal. We have visited cool museums, enjoyed a fun concert, and walked about the city. Jodi even bought a new backpack (which is notable) from a Roots store. We plan to go to Parc du Mont Royal this morning and then catch an afternoon train to Quebec City.