This past week I have had one of my best friends, Lucy, here with me in Montréal which was amazing! We had a proper Love Actually style reunion at Trudeau Airport and then we got a taxi back to mine (which I made her pay for, due to end of the month lack of money). I was excited to have my friend here with me, in my new city that I could show off.
Until I realised. I couldn't think of a SINGLE THING for us to do. The only remotely 'touristy' thing we did, something we could only do in Montréal, was going to the top of Mont Royal and finding the tubing slopes. Which was brilliant fun. Hurling yourself down a slope of snow/ice in rubber ring is a very worthwhile expenditure of time, in my opinion. The very grumpy guy working at the slopes informed us that we would be the oldest people doing it, but we shrugged that off. You're never too old for being silly. Besides, soon afterwards we were joined by a 40+ Orthodox Jewish couple, so screw you Mr. Killjoy. Tubing also introduced Lucy to a very specifically Montréal thing: the weather. It must've been at least -20 that day, and we were out in it for at least four hours. I thought I'd been cold before I'd ever been to Canada, but you don't know what cold is until your face is in pain and your nose freezes on the inside.
After that, though, I couldn't think of anything for us to actually do. Weird. We hung out, went out for dinner, went out for lunch, went out and got drunk. All fun, but not specifically Montréal. Then it occured to me: Montréal is no longer a new place for me. It's not an exciting city that I'm just discovering any more. I live here. I get up, I get the bus/metro, I go to uni, I see my friends. It's routine. Not boring, just routine. Just as I probably couldn't recommend anyone anything to do back home. I've lost the ability to see Montréal as a place to visit.
Weirdly, however, this newfound sense of Montréal as a place I am fully absorbed into, and comfortable in, has made me miss England even more. I really dislike the idea that I'm replacing any of my England homes with this city. I don't think I am though. I'm settled here, having fun, enjoying time with great friends, planning trips, but I don't think I'm home. Maybe that's just the winter talking. I am sick to the back teeth of cold and snow. Yesterday, when Lucy left, the temperature was above zero and the pavements were pretty clear of snow. This morning I had to shovel like a bitch to get out of the front door. To slightly alter the words of Miss. Marling, I never love England more than when Montréal is covered in snow.
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