Adventure is an understatement. We quit our jobs, subletted our apartment, and packed our two-door '98 cavalier to the roof with necessities from kitchenware to my down duvet. The drive was long, obviously but for some reason I only really remember Saskatchewan. If you are Canadian you realize the irony in this.
Oh, and did I mention that we were flat broke? We couldn't even afford to stay in motels along the way. One night we pitched our tent at midnight beside a lake of water. We woke up in the morning to discover that it was really just a swamp. Another night when we were in Ontario we were dead tired but we couldn't find a place to tent. I had the brainwave to just park in a church parking lot and sleep in the car. We pulled up to an old church perched on a little hill and then saw an orchard of crosses. The whole front yard of the church was a graveyard. We both got spooked and decided to keep driving awhile longer. Both of us were exhausted but by now we were in the middle of nowhere. We had hit a patch of nothing but highway. When we finally came across a gas station that had a motel attached to it I was actually ecstatic. (Never thought I would write that sentence.) We parked, paid our $35 bucks and brought all of our valuables into our dingy room with us. I was too creeped out to get under the covers so I watched How Stella Got Her Groove on the rabbit-eared TV. RKA hit the sack immediately and was out like a light. Good thing because the next morning we had a lot more ground to cover.
By now we had been in the car for three days. Many couples fight in the car and this extended car ride would be torture for both parties involved. But, RKA and I get along best when it is just the two of us. We had interesting conversations and enjoyed each other's company. I read the entire book, Bridget Jones' Diary aloud to him as he drove. I narrated into a tape recorder for posterity (should really find that tape for a laugh!). Somehow, RKA wasn't annoyed by these behaviours which in hindsight may have been a bit nuts.
We made such good progress that we ended up in Montreal a day early. Our sublet didn't start until the next day so we were forced to find a place to stay. Between being in the car for four straight days, driving in Montreal when you have no idea where you are going, and trying to find a place to stay for $35 or less...well you could say that the adventure hit a sour note and leave it at that. We finally arrived to downtown Montreal and stayed our first night in a yellow heritage style B&B. It had paper thin walls and we shared the bathroom (no shower or tub) with the other four rooms but mostly we were just happy to not be in the car together!
Finally, at noon the next day we were given the keys to our "flat". It was right at McGill which was great for RKA and the location worked for me because it was right downtown.
We paid $600 to park our car for the summer and we didn't drive it...at all. The flat was called a two bedroom but they label them differently in Montreal. A two bedroom means it has a living room and a bedroom. So we ended up using the living room as our bedroom and the tiny bedroom was the "office" We didn't have a couch or a TV anyways so it worked. The place was tiny but it was also filthy. I actually cried when I saw it...and I don't cry. It had true grime on everything. Visible, scungy grime on the stove, the floor, the fridge, the bathroom. Revolting is the only real word for it. If we hadn't already spent $70 on our two nights of luxurious accomodations I would have called Molly Maid. But we couldn't afford it - and actually it really needed a HASMAT team anyways. Luckily RKA and I are both cleaners so we joined forced and de-grimed our 500 sq. ft. of filth. It took us the entire weekend.
On Monday morning RKA reported for work. His boss was a Greek gentleman named George with European values. This worked well for RKA and he would come home for lunch and George would encourage him to tour Montreal rather than return to work for the afternoon. So RKA did what any 23 year old would do...exactly as he was told.
We explored Vieux-Port, Mount Royal, Simons (okay, that was mostly me). There was something new to see everyday. As English-speakers we were definitely fish out of water, though. Apparently I look french-canadian, though. People would greet me, "Bonjour", and when I would return with a "Bonjore" they would look simultaneously surprised and irritated and then follow with a "Hello". My french accent is that good. Apparently, RKA looks like a big honky because he would usually just be greeted with a "Hello".
I found myself unemployable in Montreal. (Okay, that is not true - I was hired as a telemarketer but never showed up on the first day because I didn't want to be that annoying person who interrupts people's dinners.) So, RKA was making peanuts and I was making nothing. Our entertainment budget was non-existant. We were also craving English. So much that in fact we would hang out at Indigo books and read English and be English and listen to others speaking English. It was such a weird experience to be "other".
While we were in Montreal, my parents took the opportunity to come and see the city. They stayed with us in our little flat. We slept on the floor in the office. Except for that one night when it was so hot that no one really slept and I spent the night in my swimsuit laying out directly on our cement balcony to try to get some air. There was the Shhh-man who shhh'd everyone nightly. He would stand down in the hot ally between the two tall apartment buildings and he would wait for a noise. Upon hearing one he would let go the sharpest, loudest "Shhh" he could. It was so shrill. Then one night in a moment of exasperation RKA leaned over the balcony and told him to "take his shhh and go back inside"...Classic.
There was a cheap pool that offered a loonie swim. We were there every day. My severely anglo-father got crap from the lifeguards more than once for his pool infractions. Actually, he provided us with many laughs during their stay. We took my parents to the jazz festival and the beer festival. Guess which one was a hit?
Beer and wine was sold at all of the depaneurs and was so cheap! Alexander Keith became like a roommate in that flat. Our other entertainment which also satisfied our English fix was a cheap movie theater. It was literally underground and I think it cost us about $5 to see a flick. When we were desperate for air conditioning and English we would escape to the underground theater for a couple of hours.
Here we are at McGill. Our apartment is not the quaint looking walk-up that you can see though - we were in the slum beside it.
...and there you have it folks...a trip down memory lane!
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