Imagen de TravelScapebecause I take photos like an electrocuted person.
Montreal is the love you never forget, and yet, you understand clearly why you do not live with her. She is unstable, imprevisible, insecure, so you can only expect that she will force you to win yourself a place in her growing list of plausible lovers. I have lived in Montreal many, many times, like you live with a toxic person, and I never understand why I go back to her.
Excuse me? What I just wrote is not 100% true. I know for a fact why I love Montreal: this place is just nuts in its own terms. This place is like the passionate woman that, without warning, yells: ¨Lets break into a house and swim in someone’s pool…Let’s hear some music non-stop, let’s go to see art, let’s get lost, you boring twit!»
Maybe they are the same woman. Maybe the one who lights on the park of attractions and the one who bakes bread for her family with Farine Five Roses are the same one. Maybe this eclectic, French based, anglo dominated city is just what it is and the only way to really love her is to let her be just as she is. Dramatic. One day full of orange cones, reducing the speed to zero, the next day full of a happy gay parade.
Maybe that’s what love really is.
To accept the city with all its imperfections. With its churches, like Notre-Dame where you can meditate, and their adult clubs, where you can get some good’ole adult fun. With its Old City, who looks like an European Port from the 1600’s and its new Place d’Armes, who looks like all glass and metal skyscrapers in the world. With the oven-made bagels that are original from here, and the smoked-meat, that is original from NY. Weirdos, psychos, hippies, yuppies, emos, Indians, and native Americans, all living in peace in this, the place that used to be the meeting point, the business area for many centuries when this was all just a richer place, because it did not belong to anyone.
I’ve made my mind. I hate to love this city.
And I love to hate it.
