Gone are the days when I can survive on little sleep. I managed to sleep until 9am, which was wonderful, though as the day wore on, it was obvious that wasn’t enough. We bought 3-day public transport passes then caught the train out towards Mont-Royal. First off was a search for food down Boulevard Saint-Laurent. I don’t think we walked far enough to find the right places but we settled on a cafe (that looks like it doubles as a nightclub/bar in the evenings) called Laika. An ok breakfast, enough to sustain us for The Climb.
Parc Mont-Royal is the highest point in Montreal and is covered in trees. It’s forest. Glen wasn’t too keen at first, when he saw it was uphill, but I forced us to go on. There was a monument and then we disappeared into the forest. Plenty of paths to take, all going up. Our other plan was to go to the cemetery which was next to it. The whole area is huge and to walk it all would have taken us more than an hour.
It started to rain. The trees protected us for a bit until the worst of it passed and then we emerged at a look-out where you can see over Montreal. We walked on. More forest. Saw a squirrel and some cool fungus. We found the metal cross on top of the hill (it used to be a wooden one, put up there a century or so ago as an offering to God for sparing the island from being flooded) then continued to Chateau Mont-Royal. Glen’s tooth and face was starting to hurt.
We finally got to the road that offered us an entry into one of the three cemeteries. And then it rained hard. We were near a bus stop and decided we were worn out, didn’t want to get wet and that returning down the hill was our best option.
By the time we got back to the train station via the bus, the sun had come out. Bugger it. We went back to Rue Ste-Catherine, had shitty service in a restaurant and then, that’s right, had another nap. We’re on holiday.
On the train, I made fun of the way Glen was trying not to move his mouth while he talked because of the pain. It looked like he was pretending to be a ventriloquist. So I made a puppet with my hand and did the same thing. He laughed as I kept trying to get him to look at my talking hand instead of me. The silliness…
In the evening we went down Rue St-Denis where there was a whole suite of restaurants to choose from. We struggled to make a decision but eventually settled on an Italian restaurant called Restaurant Amarone. The waitress, who was probably the owner, was a fun, Italian woman, a real mamma. Enjoyed our meal there and the service.
We walked back, stopping briefly at a chocolatier place that had a queue out the door and slow service. We decided we didn’t need the calories and went home instead to bed. All in all, a quiet Sunday.