QUEBEC - Chapter One: Planes, Trains and Automobiles

So back on April 2nd I flew to Quebec. I felt the 'everyday' simply closing in and 'routine' was getting the best of me. I was looking for something new to do, and figured I'd found it. I got up early and went about my day which included going to my Histoiographic Metafiction class. I slipped out early in order to have the extra time before my 1:00 AM flight. Terri and Emarie gave me a lift to the airport at 10:00, and I was off.

The adventure began when we were all seated on the plane, ready to go. The captain introduced himself and informed us that we would be delayed because of a change to our flight plan that required us to take on 600 litres more fuel. Also, with the weather conditions the way they were, if we departed on time we would be early into Montreal. Montreal, apparently, has a noise bylaw that does not permit landing at Pierre Elliot Trudeau airport prior to 7:00 AM. So, my adventure began by, in essence, not beginning at all. We were delayed 20 minutes.

I was amazed at how efficient and easy to navigate the Montreal terminal was. I stepped off the plane, went directly to the luggage carousel and claimed my bag - no waiting! I as much as turn around to head for the nearest exit, and what do I see?



You got it! The highlight of my breakfast was the hottest cup of coffee I've EVER had at any coffee shop! I could barely hang on to the cup! Oh, that and I was greeted at the counter bilingually with "Bonjour, hello..."

While sitting at breakfast I eyed an Internet kiosk so I decided to send a quick email to Terri to let her know I'd arrived safely. Those kiosks are coin- or credit card-operated at 10 cents per minute. The crazy keyboards are anything but standard, with hammer-touch buttons spread so far apart you cannot possibly 10-finger type. Talk about slow. There's gotta be a money-making angle there!

My next stop was the Via Rail station. I grabbed a cab. The fellow who drove me preferred to speak in English which suited me just fine. He was puzzled why I'd requested a ride to the train station when there was one directly across the road from the cab stand. All I knew was that the agent who booked my flight and train had indicated that the train was "just downtown". There was no indication on my reservation which station I was to leave from, but when I told the fellow I was going to Quebec City, he figured it was the best bet. He didn't know if there were lockers big enough for my suitcase, but I had to ditch the thing if I was to spend the day in Montreal before my 5:55 PM train to Quebec. I entered the station, not quite sure what to expect. The budding was amazing, and my photos don't do it justice, but this is what I saw:



It looked to me to be something of "Grand Central Station" - even though I haven't been to New York. Funny... it's actually called the "Grande". I must have had something of a tourist look about me, sporting my bright red backpack, toting behind me my monster suitcase - clearly I'd over packed! A porter approached me and asked in English if I needed a hand. Perfect guy to ask where I could ditch the bag, I thought! He told me that I could pre-check my bag because the schedule I was on had a baggage car. Perfect. I approached the ticket counter to exchange my voucher. There was no baggage car on my schedule. Instead, I was told that I could leave my bag with a porter, give him a bit of a tip, and he would ensure that my bag would make it on to the luggage rack at the end of my car. Oh, and there would be a surcharge for overweight. I tracked down my porter friend who seemed surprised that there was no luggage car. He agreed to care for my bag, we weighed it and sure enough it was ten pounds over. He said, " Don't worry about it - I'll take care of it." Great! I asked him where I might change a large bill since I had only a $100.00 on me after breakfast and a rather expensive cab ride. "No problem, I'll change it for you." He took my bill and returned within, literally, seconds sporting an array of bills. I peeled the top few bills and handed him a healthy tip - more than the $5.00 the ticket vender suggested was customary, but less than the $30.00 overweight fee. I figured my porter friend made much of his living looking out for tourists with cash! He did me a great service, was efficient, and scored himself some coin. Win/win, I'd say.

My plan was to tour Montreal. The cab ride in from the airport had run me close to $50.00 after a modest tip, so I figured I needed an alternate way around. I started with a tour of this Grande station. It was full of bakeries, restaurants, pubs, coffee shops and gift boutiques. Literally, you could get lost it it all! The airport aside, I was to learn, Tim Hortons no longer ruled the roost. Here in Montreal, it's Second Cup. And the train station has a huge one - also sporting this...



I loaded my Tim's mug with some Second Cup coffee and headed off to buy a map, then outside to check out the streets...


The corner of University Drive and Rene Levesque Blvd.

After a bit of a tour on foot, I returned to the station to sit and relax. Pouring over my map, I discovered what would lead to the bulk of my adventure for the day. On the reverse side was a map of the Montreal Metro. A day pass is only $9.00, and what better way for a train buff to see Montreal than... by train?


My day pass and a Second Cup coffee cleverly disguised as a Tims!

What I didn't bank on was the number of stairs a fellow has to descend to reach the Metro level! 88 to be exact...



Here's a map of the system...



I figured it would be impossible to go topside at every station and still make my 5:55 PM train, so I decided the objective would be to visit the ends of each of the four lines, go upstairs, snap a photo and proceed.

I did just that, but I will spare you most of the photos as they all look pretty similar. Here, however, is one that I found unique, and I'll tell you why:



This is the one stop I made along the blue line. It is the Universite de Montreal. What's unique in my mind is the fact the the door on the right is the entrance to the station. The door on the left is the entrance to the University.



Here in Calgary, our Univerisity station is clear across campus from any building - a cost-saving measure the City invoked, apparently at the last minute since the original line was to run straight to our MacEwan Hall Student Centre.

Four neat things about the Metro trains:

They're fast - couldn't find the stats, but I felt like I was flying
They're frequent - no more than 2 minutes between trains
There are electronic signs in the trains that display the upcoming stop
(Of which I have a photo, but it wouldn't upload)
The trains run on rubber tires! (Our metal-disc C-train is still a smoother ride though)



I'd mentioned the stairs, but I haven't mentioned the people. I must have seen thousands of faces while visiting 68 stops on 41 kilometres of track. Two incidents remain quite vivid in my mind. At one turnstile, there was a tall Afro-American fellow ahead of me. He bought his ticket and proceeded through the gate. I showed my pass to the attendant and continued through. Half way down the steps I realize this fellow was behind me. Strange, I thought. As we approach the platform, he seems anxious. The train was just pulling away as we set foot on the platform. He squeezed past me, gave me a dirty look that I needed no translation for and uttered some mono-syllabic grunt as if to say, "Idiot... we missed the train!" Wow, I thought... does 90 seconds wreck your day, man? I suppose it didn't bother me since I wasn't on a schedule, really. That, and in Calgary I've been known to wait upwards of 30 minutes for a train in off-peak times. To wait 90 seconds at any given point in the day is downright silver-service to me! Oh, and the fellow made a point of stepping on to the car ahead of the one I did. He obviously wanted nothing to do with me!

The other occurrence of note was at the one stop where I cheated and took the escalator instead of the stairs. Ahead of me was a girl who smelled absolutely delicious. "Welcome to Montreal", I'm thinking to myself. I was in the habit of looking around and happened to glance backwards down the escalator. There was a couple not four or five steps behind me, making out as they rode up the escalator. Eyes front, better to take in the aroma than the sights, as I said to myself, "No pictures, Turtle, no pictures..."

By the time I returned to Bonaventure station on the orange line, it was 4:30 PM. I had experience the sardine-nesss of full-on rush hour on the Metro. It was time to return to the Via station and head for my train to Quebec.

I have this to say about Via Rail: the train was filthy. The outside coated in mud, the windows so dirty it made picture-taking useless. The inside was relatively clean, but old and worn. The service? Absolutely amazing. The fellow serving our section was friendly and prompt, and made everyone he served feel attended to.


From my seat on the train



On the platform at Quebec City

The train was on time at 8:50 PM, so to recount the previous 24 hours, I'd been to the University of Calgary, driven to the airport, flown to Montreal, driven to the train station, rode all over Montreal, visiting the University by train, then to Quebec City by train and picked up by car. A most impressive adventure inside 24 hours, I dare say!


Chapter 2 to follow... Quebec City in pictures!

Just what is 'Feminism', anyway?

That was the hot topic of discussion in today's class.

It really got my back up, too.

You see, I believe that everyone - not men, not women - yes, everyone is entitled to equal rights and opportunities. Sadly, 'feminism' has come to be represented by, often, the "get even" crowd... the "I want more than my fair share to make up for it" crowd.

Tonight's discussion made me want to leave the room. I mean, what have we been arguing for for centuries? Whether women are human beings? It seems that forever and a day, women have typically been handed the "less than" role. "Here is your 'place', and if you step a toe over the line, we'll be sure to put you back.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not jumping on the way-out-there bandwagon. I equally detest the manner in which some feminists take on a defensive role when it comes to standing up for equal rights across the two genders.

Enough, already. If you qualify for human, in this blogger's eyes you have every right to be treated equally, given equal opportunity and equal compensation for equal effort. But the whole premise of 'equal' implies that EVERYBODY deserves the same accommodation. Sure, everyone is going to differ in skill level, but to be treated as less-than, paid less-than or discriminated against because of your gender strikes me as ethically wrong. It also makes my stomach queezy.

My recommended read? Try Ana Historic by Daphne Marlatt.

What's your definition of Feminism?

"The pursuit of knowledge is great in and of itself when you don't have to be a grade performing monkey!" S. MAH, APRIL 2008

Long title, short post.

As I near the deadline for my second essay - having tossed out two attempts - I remind myself of something my friend Sharon from Vancouver said to me only yesterday.

Maybe after a nap I'll strike inspiration.

Oh, I'm back from my trip and will post photos soon, but for now, priority reigns.

G'night.

Turtle out.





Here's a teaser from my trip.

Something new

This year's "something new" is... (insert drum roll)







OK, I'll give you a hint...









...perhaps another?






Admittedly, this is not something I can do consistently every day, week or perhaps even every month, but travel is something I've decided not to put off until I'm 50.

I'll keep you posted, but in the mean time I have a plane to catch!

Something a little more upbeat

That last post was a downer, OMG. I sent emails to three different people and phoned my sister to check in on life.

I did something today that brings me a great deal of joy. I went to school. I kept my mind occupied for the most part by working on a PowerPoint presentation for class tonight. There was a certain amount of motivation to do it too, since four people's grades were riding on this! There's something about that adrenalin rush you get with up-to-the-last-minute assignment completion that rides the line of "it's almost late"!

And it was! (ALMOST late, that is!) I left the house 15 minutes before class, but MAN, did we score. The class loved our presentation, and I received several comments on the production side. I, of course, was much harder on the technical production than anyone in the class because I kept noticing things I "could tweak" to make it "that much better". It's probably why I ran the deadline so tight. I'm not what you'd ever call a "perfectionist", but when it comes to stuff like that, I always burn up massive amounts of time with "What if I did this?" or "I could simply add this to make it that much cooler!"

Anyway, done and in.

On to Essay #2.

By the way, I highly recommend the book we did our presentation on. It was Wayne Johnston's Colony of Unrequited Dreams. It's a metafictional account of Joe Smallwood in Newfoundland in the early 20th Century, and it;s a gripper.

You won't put it down.

I'm not an avid reader... you won't put it down.




Maybe reading isn't so bad, after all.

Tomorrow?

It's movie time.

Horton Hears a Who.

Proof, once again, that life is short, and Henry remembered...

This last weekend marked one year since I travelled to Ontario for my friend Henry's funeral.

I found out only today over lunch with my friend Michelle, that a mutual friend, Doug, with whom we had grown up, was killed in an avalanche in British Columbia in February. Not that long ago, I DJ'd Doug's wedding reception at a local Calgary golf course. When I saw him last, I shook his hand and shared a beverage with him at the old neighbourhood's Stampede Block Party in July - a bit of a tradition for both of us since we were boys of 8 and 10.

I remember telling a story at Doug's wedding. Not long after we'd moved to the neighbourhood, my Dad had purchased a load of soil which was delivered to our front lawn. At the time, Doug fancied himself an accomplished BMX Motocross bike rider. He took great delight in using the pile as a bike jump for stunts. This infuriated my Dad who felt that the soil was precious and for use in his garden, NOT to be used for anything as frivolous as stunting. Those at the wedding reception who were from the neighbourhood laughed, as they too were there to witness the antics of an 8-year-old.

Doug was 35.

Henry was 51.

I'm 38.

It makes me wonder how much more life I have to live.

Life IS short, as cliche as it may sound, and I hope you will acknowledge and appreciate those who share this life with you.

With reference to my previous post about projects, one is going to be human connections.

In fact, maybe that's a good title.

Projects abound

There seems to be no end of things going on around here. Numerous household projects, school, work, general living - it's all sometimes a little overwhelming, but in a good way.

What I'm craving though, is something new. A new project - something that I can get lost in with reckless abandon and glee. I'm simply not sure what.

Last year it was school. Going to University, even as a recreational student, had me wide-eyed and keen. It's still interesting, and I'm on a regular path with it, but somehow the "newness" of it has faded. I have to admit, in the beginning I had the most wonderful professor. Her equal, I dare say, does not exist. I haven't heard from M. since she took medical leave in September, right at the beginning of our Detective Fiction course. I have heard through the grape vine that she is well and spending her time doing what she needs to do in order to return to the classroom in the Fall. Will I take a course from her? Not sure. A second language course is what I had in mind for September.

Last year, too, I started yoga. New, introspective and calming. It continues.

This year, I need a new 'something'. I'd considered revisiting an 'old something' like music lessons, model railroading or dance lessons but I think 'expansion' is the key. Something fresh, something new.

I'm going to open the floor for suggestions. Also, if you're a regular reader here at the Armchair who doesn't normally leave comments, please do. I may simply take all the bits and pieces, place them in a hat and pick.

The first new project? Find a project!

Now... off to clean up some old ones!