Multiculturalism, Music and Moving

Not sure where we left off, somewhere between Mexico City and Montreal. I've been traveling in between, but arrived in Montreal one month ago. No home, no job, no idea of what to expect from this new world.

I am getting a feel for the way Montreal swings and sways. The multiculturalism here is unlike anything I've seen before. Traveling, inevitably we become part of the World culture, but nothing could have prepared me for the wonderful mixture of races, cultures and traditions that Montreal encompasses. Obviously, I've been able to pick out many Mexicans and Chinese people, but when I go out on the street I meet people from Algeria, Morocco, Portugal, Japan, Venezuela, Chile, Russia, India, Pakistan, Israel and every other place you can imagine. There?s Anglophones and Francophones and somewhere in between. There are Mexicans playing African drums, Africans selling Chinese food, Chinese learning Quebecois French, and I'm right here in the middle of this muddle of a triplex-lined city.

The multicultural theme spills into the music, which is where the Montreal International Jazz Festival is to be mentioned. Musicians and visitors were from nearby and far away, and very far away. I've never been to such a welcoming festival before. More than 500 shows over 11 days and over half of the shows are free! I frequented the festival and usually I would arrive with Denya (my young daughter) on the bike. After the first visit, I stopped by one of the festival tents where they lend out strollers for the day. These weren't just any strollers either, cup holders, basket to carry my backpack, reclining seat for Denya, and all I had to do was return it before midnight. After having gotten in trouble at a previous Children's festival when I had the wagon out for longer than an hour, I was impressed with the Jazz Festival's lenient and trusting gesture. Oh yeah, it was great music too, really great.

So that's multicultural and music so we must be moving right along. On July 1st most housing contracts expire in the city so July 1st is moving day for a big chunk of the population, and I was no exception. A few days before July 1st, and for one or two days after, streets are lined with moving trucks and trailers, and people are walking with huge bags and dollies and hands full of furniture, clothing, appliances, you name it. I don't know if this is common elsewhere, but I've never seen it before, one moving day. There is another spin-off result of the grand moving day ? people begin about a week before moving day throwing out everything they don't want to move. The streets are like second-hand superstores. There are scouts who diligently seek recycled goods for their homes, and I was certainly on the prowl for good finds.

My best find was about four blocks from my old residence where I came across a metal futon frame, black, simple, good shape. I tested the quality by laying it out flat and returning it to the couch position time and again. When I got back on my bike I was thinking to myself, "If no one picks it up by the time I get back, I'll take it." I wasn?t entirely convinced though. I would have to bring the dolly back and figure out a way to take it, and I was riding my bike at that moment with my daughter in the baby seat. How would I come back? Besides, I would need a mattress for the futon anyway. Just in the middle of that thought I spotted a futon mattress folded on the curb, navy on one side, white on the other, no stains, no smell, both critical criteria. I quickly threw the mattress, folded, over my bike. Only a block away from home, I rushed and quickly unloaded baby and mattress, locked up my bike and got the dolly. Denya was happy when I suggested she ride the dolly and even happier when we started going really fast. "Run Mama," she urged me on. When we approached where the frame had been, I got nervous. Maybe someone had come for it already, such a street gem. Luckily, no one had arrived for the futon, and the only other customer at the sidewalk giveaway that day was an older gentleman looking at old long-play records. I fiddled and fussed and explained to Denya that now it was the futon's turn to ride the dolly. The man asked me what it was, and I told him excitedly about futons that change from couches to beds. When he replied, his Quebec accent was so strong that I had no idea what he was saying. I think he was speaking French, wasn't he? Meanwhile, I found a way to mount the futon, but I had to balance it on my shoulder while pulling it on the dolly. Denya walked on the sidewalk while I went down the street keeping my eye on her and shifting the futon frequently to avoid extreme discomfort. A passerby helped me take the futon up to the flat. He grumbled yes when I asked him to help and then didn?t say another word. I thanked him profusely, but it was evident I was not welcome. I barely noticed? I was in futon heaven.

Some of my street gems are a multi-level clothes drying rack, a great sturdy, old dresser (currently being repainted), a reclining armchair, a children's shelving unit, and even a huge area rug and matching hallway runner rug (yes, they need to be cleaned). It can sometimes be expensive when moving to a new place and settling in, but not this time. My main expense was renting a moving truck to move all my new found belongings to my new place, which I find pretty funny.

Oh, if you're wondering why everyone moves on Canada Day, which is what I asked, it's because here in Quebec we don't celebrate Canada Day, we celebrate St. Jean de Baptiste Day, June 24th. It's Quebec Day when everyone puts on their blue fleur-de-lis and gets drunk. So you just change the date, the color you wear and the plant (not the maple leaf) and it?s exactly the same as Canada Day... a lot of fun! Cheers Montreal!

Here's a photo of Denya enjoying her huge ice cream cone at the Restaurant that has two dishes: Chinese Noodles and Ice Cream. Strange?