Oh, Canada?

In the 1530s, Jacques Cartier arrived in the area that would become Montreal, Quebec, becoming the first known European to set foot there.


In 2008, Derek Larson traveled to that very city, becoming the first known writer from this blog to set foot on Canadian soil.

Cartier found a land inhabited by Native Americans. I, on the other hand, found something a little different.

Here's what I know:

1. - I cannot read or speak French.
I'm not sure that I should be surprised by such a revelation, since I have never attempted to learn the language, but I've also never been so constantly reminded of my inadequacies in that area. The natives speak French (although several are - thankfully for this guy - bilingual), the signs are in French, and it's quite possible that the dogs bark in French... Bonjour, confusion.

2. - Television in Montreal is wildly disappointing.
In some of the few spare hours I had, I tried to relax by planting myself in front of the TV. The nice part about this was that I was able to find several episodes of The Simpsons - my favorite television program as documented by Fun Facts About Derek, Volume XII.

Unfortunately, 90-percent of the episodes I happened upon were voiced in French - a language that I cannot comprehend (see #1). Hearing a poorly voiced Chief Wiggum say, "C'est qu'ils tous disent. Ils tous disent d'oh," just doesn't have the same effect on me.

Frustrated with my attempts to find something funny, I turned to the world of sports. Unfortunately, in this land north of the border my preferred selection of athletic competitions (e.g., baseball, football, basketball... and maybe tortoise racing) take a backseat to hockey. TSN, the Canadian ESPN, puts more focus on hockey than I put on relatively pointless topics... Yeah, it's that bad.

3. - Dancers and fighters make an unpredictable combination.
During our stay, the hotel we were housed in played host to a salsa dancing conference. The combined-force exerted by the hip gyrations produced at this conference may have shifted the rotation of the Earth.

If that wasn't enough, our hotel was just a block away from Montreal's Bell Centre, where a large UFC event took place Saturday night. This means fighters, fans, and groupies were all also located within the 36 floors of guest rooms. Picture, if you will, a motley combination of guys with shaved heads and no necks, a bevy of females with short skirts and artificial breasts, and a boisterous (read: inebriated) grouping of teens and 20-somethings with dyed hair and more ink than the Sears catalog.

So combine the crew of folks wanting to see blood with the crew of folks wanting to be slaves to the rhythm of Latin drum beats and what do you get? A hotel lobby where Derek does not fit in.

4. - Montreal has a fine selection of dining establishments... and beautiful women hang out at Greek restaurants.

This trip did see Derek significantly increase his diversity in the world of food. Indian food had never been tried... until Montreal. Calamari had never been tasted... until Montreal. Some weird tiny fish fried whole had never been consumed (partially because such a thought had never crossed my mind)... but Montreal brought that about, too.

The seafood dishes were consumed at a Greek restaurant, but such bounds in the area of my culinary diversity did not mark the hot topic of the evening. Neither did the items on the wine list, or the extraordinary prices. It was the woman in the little red dress.

It was apparent that this woman - who was as easy on the eyes as an eye exam featuring only one letter - worked at the restaurant. The question that arose was what the duties of her job actually entailed. For the most of our two hours spent there, it seemed that all she did was stand near food preparation area in a dress so tight it may have have been wenched on and occasionally chatted with other employees. Such action (or inaction) sparked a conversation at our table which was nevery really resolved. Occasionally (read: hardly ever) she would deliver something to a table, but the rest of her job seemed to consist of drawing the attention of anyone with a Y chromosome away from their tables... Job well done, I guess.

5. Cab drivers are still crazy up north
Our trip to the hotel from the airport involved an unknown number of kilos traveled, a cab fare of $35 CDN, a long list of traffic violations commited by our driver, and a couple of instances where I hoped I wouldn't end up being buried in Canada... Good times.