Monday, September 04, 2006
Bringing Sexy Back...
WARNING!! This post is going to be long. I just returned from Montreal and there is a shitload to tell. And quite frankly, when everything is said and done, I think I'm moving to Canada.
We arrived on Friday afternoon and after a necessary brief map (I didn't sleep much the night before, I was a little anxious, if you can imagine) we hit the main shopping street. The first store we stepped into felt like we had been transported to another universe. The shop assistants were NICE. They wanted to HELP! They asked us questions and bent over backwards for us. The unbelievable friendliness of the people there was a continual theme for the entire weekend. Waitstaff, bus drivers, bellboys, baristas- EVERYONE (well, except for some bitchy girls in the clubs, but that's just cause they were jealous because we were so hot) was friendly. Karen and I gushed about it constantly.
For our first meal in Montreal we ate at a pub on one of the main club/restaurant/pub streets (Crescent St. for those in the know) and were seated next to some men from.... New York. We talked for FOUR hours. They were clearly very into us and bought our lunch, but as they were pushing 50, Karen and I were not so interested, although we really did enjoy their conversation. When we were finally able to tear ourselves away from them, we went back to the shopping and the wandering.
Dinner that night was inconsequential at a mexican place that we were told was good, but really, not so much. After dinner we wandered back over to Crescent street where we were immediately accosted by a promoter asking us if we'd like to go to a club- cover free. We agreed and he escorted us up to a club where we discovered some very interesting things- we were SPECTACULARLY overdressed. We went out dressed as New Yorkers and discovered that the people in Montreal did not go quite to the lengths that we do. We also discovered that the good people of Montreal do not know how to dance. A nice man had started talking to us when we arrived and was nice and funny, so we continued to let him talk to us. After observing the atrocity of the dance floor for a while, we decided to go out there and show them how it was done. Our nice man friend, who we will call Chris, came with us. Karen and I really get into our dancing. We love it and it shows. Chris latched on to me and didn't let go. Other men came and tried to dance with me, but Chris would shove them off, and I was not so much enjoying it. Karen was also receiving her own fair share of attention and had it not been for Mr. Pushy-Pants Chris, I would have been actively pursuing several gentlemen in the room. But I couldn't shake him, no matter how hard I tried and we eventually had to leave just to get rid of him.
The next morning we hit Old Montreal to go to a restaurant that had been touted as having a great brunch. To say that it was a pleasant dining experience is a HUGE understatement. We ate in the absolutely gorgeous back garden area and the food was phenomenal. There was a jazz quartet playing quietly in the background and the sun was providing the perfect amount of warmth. After our unbelievable breakfast, we rented bicycles and rode along the St. Lawrence river. It was the perfect morning.
We walked some more around Old Montreal, went into the Notre Dame cathedral, made scathing comments about the fashion and stopped in at a patisserie for some hot chocolate.
We went way off the main drag to go to a Thai restaurant that I had read about for dinner. Totally worth it. Again, the waitstaff was crazy friendly and the food was absolutely delicious. Then we hit Club Orchid. I had done my research ahead of time, thanks to a very helpful reader who will remain anonymous, and had gotten us on the guestlist at the club. Due to this foresight, we were immediately whisked through the velvet rope and straight into the club. Once inside the club, we were again surprised to find ourselves the objects of attention from many, many men. It was BIZARRE. I fully expected to be completely ignored in Montreal. After going through a few different men, I found my dancing match in a guy named Brett. We danced until the sweat poured off us and then we retired to a dark corner to do some making out. I think he was a little disappointed at the end of the night when I repeatedly refused to go home with him, but Karen and I made a pact before we even left on the trip that we would never leave each other. And we never did. Although, we he did share our taxi back to our hotel since he was very close to us and if I had not already decided against him, the taxi ride would have been the clincher when he did not pony up ONE CENT for the taxi fare. What an absolute shithead. Then he spent even more time trying to convince me to go home with him even though I was repeatedly saying no. At one point, I even said to him, "why do you want me to go with you when I SO VERY CLEARLY do not want to?" It was frustrating. Very frustrating.
Sunday morning proved to be the best restaurant find of the trip. It was a hassle to get there (subway and a very long bus ride) but I don't know that I have ever enjoyed a meal more. It was a brazilian restaurant called Senzala, and I got the traditional eggs benedict, but it came with fruit kabobs marinated in coconut milk and grilled, with tons of fresh fruit. Seriously, it was one of the MOST delicious meals of my life. It was starting to get cold and rainy, so we decided to hit the famed underground mall(s). We found a ton of really great stuff (which makes one wonder why the fashion was SO continually horrendous).
For dinner that night, we went to a very fancy French restaurant in Old Montreal, which was DIVINE (can you tell that both Karen and I are foodies?). She had swordfish, I had duck and for dessert we had profiteroles and I don't know that my stomach has ever been happier. We did some more walking around Montreal that night, both deep in despair at the prospect of having to leave the next day. We had both found a relief, a sense of peace in Montreal that had been eluding us for a while in our hectic, stress filled lives. I was sleeping completely through the night, something I haven't done in weeks. We both seemed to glow with utter contentment. Which may have been the reason for the unremitting attention from men there, or it could just be that Canadian men seem to know a good thing when they see it.
But either way, when we got on the bus yesterday afternoon to take us to the airport, we were not ready to leave (especially not after the delicious strawberry crepe that I had for breakfast).
I also discovered something interesting in the customs line at the Montreal airport. Karen and I were talking, about nothing in particular that I recall, when the man in front of me started talking to me. And continued to talk to me as we wound our way to the front. We discussed Montreal, and baseball. He wasn't particularly handsome, but there was something about him that piqued my interest. He was funny and personable. As he walked away to his gate to depart to Chicago, I turned to Karen and I said, "I would date him."
Ladies and gentlemen, I have officially started liking the white boys again. As said to me by Email Boy- congratulations to me for adding 80% of the population back into my dating pool.
We arrived on Friday afternoon and after a necessary brief map (I didn't sleep much the night before, I was a little anxious, if you can imagine) we hit the main shopping street. The first store we stepped into felt like we had been transported to another universe. The shop assistants were NICE. They wanted to HELP! They asked us questions and bent over backwards for us. The unbelievable friendliness of the people there was a continual theme for the entire weekend. Waitstaff, bus drivers, bellboys, baristas- EVERYONE (well, except for some bitchy girls in the clubs, but that's just cause they were jealous because we were so hot) was friendly. Karen and I gushed about it constantly.
For our first meal in Montreal we ate at a pub on one of the main club/restaurant/pub streets (Crescent St. for those in the know) and were seated next to some men from.... New York. We talked for FOUR hours. They were clearly very into us and bought our lunch, but as they were pushing 50, Karen and I were not so interested, although we really did enjoy their conversation. When we were finally able to tear ourselves away from them, we went back to the shopping and the wandering.
Dinner that night was inconsequential at a mexican place that we were told was good, but really, not so much. After dinner we wandered back over to Crescent street where we were immediately accosted by a promoter asking us if we'd like to go to a club- cover free. We agreed and he escorted us up to a club where we discovered some very interesting things- we were SPECTACULARLY overdressed. We went out dressed as New Yorkers and discovered that the people in Montreal did not go quite to the lengths that we do. We also discovered that the good people of Montreal do not know how to dance. A nice man had started talking to us when we arrived and was nice and funny, so we continued to let him talk to us. After observing the atrocity of the dance floor for a while, we decided to go out there and show them how it was done. Our nice man friend, who we will call Chris, came with us. Karen and I really get into our dancing. We love it and it shows. Chris latched on to me and didn't let go. Other men came and tried to dance with me, but Chris would shove them off, and I was not so much enjoying it. Karen was also receiving her own fair share of attention and had it not been for Mr. Pushy-Pants Chris, I would have been actively pursuing several gentlemen in the room. But I couldn't shake him, no matter how hard I tried and we eventually had to leave just to get rid of him.
The next morning we hit Old Montreal to go to a restaurant that had been touted as having a great brunch. To say that it was a pleasant dining experience is a HUGE understatement. We ate in the absolutely gorgeous back garden area and the food was phenomenal. There was a jazz quartet playing quietly in the background and the sun was providing the perfect amount of warmth. After our unbelievable breakfast, we rented bicycles and rode along the St. Lawrence river. It was the perfect morning.
We walked some more around Old Montreal, went into the Notre Dame cathedral, made scathing comments about the fashion and stopped in at a patisserie for some hot chocolate.
We went way off the main drag to go to a Thai restaurant that I had read about for dinner. Totally worth it. Again, the waitstaff was crazy friendly and the food was absolutely delicious. Then we hit Club Orchid. I had done my research ahead of time, thanks to a very helpful reader who will remain anonymous, and had gotten us on the guestlist at the club. Due to this foresight, we were immediately whisked through the velvet rope and straight into the club. Once inside the club, we were again surprised to find ourselves the objects of attention from many, many men. It was BIZARRE. I fully expected to be completely ignored in Montreal. After going through a few different men, I found my dancing match in a guy named Brett. We danced until the sweat poured off us and then we retired to a dark corner to do some making out. I think he was a little disappointed at the end of the night when I repeatedly refused to go home with him, but Karen and I made a pact before we even left on the trip that we would never leave each other. And we never did. Although, we he did share our taxi back to our hotel since he was very close to us and if I had not already decided against him, the taxi ride would have been the clincher when he did not pony up ONE CENT for the taxi fare. What an absolute shithead. Then he spent even more time trying to convince me to go home with him even though I was repeatedly saying no. At one point, I even said to him, "why do you want me to go with you when I SO VERY CLEARLY do not want to?" It was frustrating. Very frustrating.
Sunday morning proved to be the best restaurant find of the trip. It was a hassle to get there (subway and a very long bus ride) but I don't know that I have ever enjoyed a meal more. It was a brazilian restaurant called Senzala, and I got the traditional eggs benedict, but it came with fruit kabobs marinated in coconut milk and grilled, with tons of fresh fruit. Seriously, it was one of the MOST delicious meals of my life. It was starting to get cold and rainy, so we decided to hit the famed underground mall(s). We found a ton of really great stuff (which makes one wonder why the fashion was SO continually horrendous).
For dinner that night, we went to a very fancy French restaurant in Old Montreal, which was DIVINE (can you tell that both Karen and I are foodies?). She had swordfish, I had duck and for dessert we had profiteroles and I don't know that my stomach has ever been happier. We did some more walking around Montreal that night, both deep in despair at the prospect of having to leave the next day. We had both found a relief, a sense of peace in Montreal that had been eluding us for a while in our hectic, stress filled lives. I was sleeping completely through the night, something I haven't done in weeks. We both seemed to glow with utter contentment. Which may have been the reason for the unremitting attention from men there, or it could just be that Canadian men seem to know a good thing when they see it.
But either way, when we got on the bus yesterday afternoon to take us to the airport, we were not ready to leave (especially not after the delicious strawberry crepe that I had for breakfast).
I also discovered something interesting in the customs line at the Montreal airport. Karen and I were talking, about nothing in particular that I recall, when the man in front of me started talking to me. And continued to talk to me as we wound our way to the front. We discussed Montreal, and baseball. He wasn't particularly handsome, but there was something about him that piqued my interest. He was funny and personable. As he walked away to his gate to depart to Chicago, I turned to Karen and I said, "I would date him."
Ladies and gentlemen, I have officially started liking the white boys again. As said to me by Email Boy- congratulations to me for adding 80% of the population back into my dating pool.
