Belle Montréal

Three hours north of New Hampshire we entered the French Providence of Quebec, Canada. I noticed an immediate and exciting difference the moment we crossed the border. Street signs and highway exits were all in french and I was filled with anticipation as we approached the city of Montreal.

We arrived in the city under the cover of darkness and pouring rain. The street where our hotel was located was blanketed block by block with cafes, bistros and restaurants from every nationality and culture. After we checked in to our room we headed out in search of one of Canada’s most praised and original dishes, poutine. Poutine is a sensational combination of french fries and cheese curds topped with gravy. With those three elements at the helm, one could add other ingredients such as roasted tomato and basil if you wanted to go the Italian route, or add a handful of chicken and a dash of tzatziki sauce to give the poutine more of a Greek flare. With poutine, anything is possible. So on a cold rainy night in a new city, what more could we possibly want? After a few minutes of intense deliberation over the many different poutine options, Andrew and I confidently selected the “Montreal” poutine (fitting, really), a showstopping combination of french fries, cheese curds, and slow-cooked pulled pork all tossed about in barbecue sauce. I swear I heard angels sing when I took my first bite.

The following morning we bundled up for a long day in the city and made our way to the common room downstairs for breakfast where we were served the most wonderful croissants. I would argue the world would be a happier place if everyone started off their day with a croissant.

We were happy to see clear sunny skies when we stepped outside. A perfect day to explore Montreal. We made our way to Old City via a street called Rue St. Paul. It was a narrow cobblestoned street lined with shops, restaurants and cafes, and outside each entrance hung intricate and charming signs. It felt like Europe. Andrew and I enjoyed taking it all in (I might have snapped photos of every storefront), and from time to time we would walk into one of the patisseries to share a french pastry.

Rue St. Paul

By 10:45am we found ourselves gazing up at the Basilique Notre-Dame de Montreal (no relation to Notre-Dame de Paris). It was simply stunning and deserved our attention. We went inside to join a tour group that began at 11am, but not before taking a few moments to soak in the beauty of this place. A photo of the alter is below because words are simply not enough.

Basilique Notre-Dame de Montreal

From the basilica we decided to check out the Montreal Observatory that sat atop a hill that overlooked the city. It certainly required an uphill battle. We first walked several blocks on an incline (similar to a street you’d find in San Fran) and I was foolish to think we had arrived when the street finally leveled out. It was then I noticed a park across the street that had a path layered with steps up another hill. God, help me, I didn’t think I was going to make it. Andrew was perfectly fine, of course. After the climb we walked on to the courtyard that looked over the city. In that instant I knew it was all worth it. The city stretched out before us, and I loved the way the sun rays made some of the buildings glisten. We stayed up there for a while, enjoying the view and admiring the city (and admittedly waiting until my breathing evened out energy returned).

We walked back down and made our way to Montreal’s university to call on old friend and colleague of Andrew’s (he seems to have friends on all corners of the earth). His friend wasn’t in the office, but we enjoyed exploring the campus. 7 hours and 7 miles later we arrived back at the hotel for some much needed rest before heading back out for our final evening in city. We decided to check out an Indian restaurant that had some impressive reviews. As we walked in I quickly realized this was going to become my favorite moment in Montreal. The restaurant was small, dimly lit, and was packed with people. I noticed that in the three corners of the restaurant groups of people were sitting on the floor, and I suddenly realized that they weren’t just sitting there, they were LOUNGING while EATING their food. Their shoes were off and they relaxed against pillows under hanging lanterns and candles. Ever since I saw the 90’s reboot of the film “Sabrina” where Sabrina and Harrison Ford’s character eat on the floor in an Asian restaurant it has been my dream to do something similar. AND THIS WAS MY CHANCE. Again, this place was packed and most people had reservations, so it seemed unlikely that one of only three corners would be available for us. We walked up to the hostess and asked her if it was possible to be seated in one of the corners, so she looked around the room and told us that the back corner would be free for us. OH MY GOODNESS. Had we walked in any earlier, or any later, we would not have had the most amazing dining experience. We enjoyed our Indian dinner and a bottle of red wine in a corner of pillows that could fit up to 5 people. It was an absolute dream, just an absolute dream!

The next morning, with croissants in hand and a whole lot of love for the city in our hearts, we bid Montreal goodbye and began our journey home. It was a wonderful end to our road trip and only made me more excited for our next journey.

In 6 days Andrew and I will be getting on a plane and flying to Beijing, China for two and a half days before flying to Australia for a month. I’ve been waiting for this trip ever since I fell in love Andrew. This is my chance to finally meet my Australia family, and I’m so excited to love on them and spend the Christmas holidays there. You better believe I’ll be blogging and sharing my stories and insights. We do roam, right?

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! May God bless you and your loved ones during this holiday season.

Lighthouse Confessions

Do you remember the movie “Pete’s Dragon?” If not, allow me to refresh your memory. “Pete’s Dragon” is a 1977 live-action film about a young orphan (Pete) and his invisible and sometimes visible, albeit animated, best friend Elliot, a large green dragon with tiny purple wings and ruffled purple hair. Together they get into a number of troubling (and absurdly comical) situations, with the main conflict and glorious resolution taking place at a lighthouse.

Quite scary, to be honest.

Amusingly (and perhaps slightly concerning), my subconscious decided this film was relevant enough to dig into the deep recesses of my mind and remind me of that freckled little boy and his loyal mute dragon whilst visiting the several cliff-side lighthouses on our journey. I found this really quite baffling, to say the least, considering I hadn’t given the movie a single thought since the 90’s. I confess I didn’t mention this sudden memory to my husband, so I don’t know why I feel comfortable enough to mention it on my blog…I digress.

On a more serious note, Andrew and I loved driving along the coasts. We stopped at several harbor towns and vista points along the way. Since it was the off-season, many of the small towns where quite with some stores either open just on the weekends or closed all together. We treated ourselves to a hot cup of coffee from one of the local cafes “Breaking New Gounds” (loved the name) as we walked around the hushed streets and seaside paths. I felt a sweet sense of serenity as we listened to the waves crash against rock and I took a moment to enjoy the peaceful pace at which this world seemed to move.

The lighthouses themselves were remarkable. Without the distraction of tourists, it was easy to recognize and appreciate the purpose and unique solidarity of each lighthouse. It was said the famed American poet Henry Longfellow often visited the lighthouse pictured above, and was, in fact, the very lighthouse that inspired his poem “The Lighthouse.” And during these times, where I often feel heartache about the state of this world, I took solace among the cold ocean breeze and steadfast beacons of hope.

The Lighthouse by Henry Wadsworth Longellow

The rocky ledge runs far into the sea,
And on its outer point, some miles away,
The Lighthouse lifts its massive masonry,
A pillar of fire by night, of cloud by day.

Even at this distance I can see the tides,
Upheaving, break unheard along its base,
A speechless wrath, that rises and subsides
In the white lip and tremor of the face.

And as the evening darkens, lo! how bright,
Through the deep purple of the twilight air,
Beams forth the sudden radiance of its light
With strange, unearthly splendor in the glare!

Not one alone; from each projecting cape
And perilous reef along the ocean’s verge,
Starts into life a dim, gigantic shape,
Holding its lantern o’er the restless surge.

Like the great giant Christopher it stands
Upon the brink of the tempestuous wave,
Wading far out among the rocks and sands,
The night-o’ertaken mariner to save.

And the great ships sail outward and return,
Bending and bowing o’er the billowy swells,
And ever joyful, as they see it burn,
They wave their silent welcomes and farewells.

They come forth from the darkness, and their sails
Gleam for a moment only in the blaze,
And eager faces, as the light unveils,
Gaze at the tower, and vanish while they gaze.

The mariner remembers when a child,
On his first voyage, he saw it fade and sink;
And when, returning from adventures wild,
He saw it rise again o’er ocean’s brink.

Steadfast, serene, immovable, the same
Year after year, through all the silent night
Burns on forevermore that quenchless flame,
Shines on that inextinguishable light!

It sees the ocean to its bosom clasp
The rocks and sea-sand with the kiss of peace;
It sees the wild winds lift it in their grasp,
And hold it up, and shake it like a fleece.

The startled waves leap over it; the storm
Smites it with all the scourges of the rain,
And steadily against its solid form
Press the great shoulders of the hurricane.

The sea-bird wheeling round it, with the din
Of wings and winds and solitary cries,
Blinded and maddened by the light within,
Dashes himself against the glare, and dies.

A new Prometheus, chained upon the rock,
Still grasping in his hand the fire of Jove,
It does not hear the cry, nor heed the shock,
But hails the mariner with words of love.

‘Sail on!’ it says, ‘sail on, ye stately ships!
And with your floating bridge the ocean span;
Be mine to guard this light from all eclipse,
Be yours to bring man nearer unto man!’

Boston Every Time

If I had to choose a city in the U.S. to do life in, I’d choose Boston every time.

After our brief visit to Newport, Andrew and I made our way to Boston, Massachusetts. Since we only had a half a day to explore the city, Andrew suggested we walk the Freedom Trail, a 4 mile self-guided tour that explores Boston’s role in American history. The trail itself was well executed. No maps or juggling directions was required. Rather, the path was marked on the pavement, similar to the yellow brick road in “The Wizard of Oz.” This made it so we could thoroughly enjoy and explore all the city had to offer in an efficient and organized way. For those of you who know my husband, you’ll know this made him very happy.

It was too darling not to capture.

During our walk, I was charmed by the way history intertwined herself throughout this bustling city. Old brick clock towers, post offices and chaples (to name a few) stood between modern landscapes, a juxtaposition I found beautiful. We were able to see some incredible historical landmarks, including the church where Paul Revere lit the lanterns to warn the Colonial militia that the British forces where approaching before the battles of Lexington and Concord. We also found the grave stones of Samuel Adams, John Hancock, Robert Paine (all three were signers of the U.S. Constitution) and Paul Revere. It was truly surreal to stand at their grave sights. They weren’t just a history lesson anymore, you see. They were right in front me, and yes, I did feel patriotic.

We walked down cobblestone streets, alleyways that seemed to praise the world of Harry Potter, and streets lined with elegant stoops and darling lanterns. And like any tourist, we made sure to delight ourselves with a Boston cream pie. It tasted like heaven. For dinner we treated ourselves to a few other classic Boston/New England dishes, including clam chowder and shepard’s pie (appropriate considering we dined at an Irish pub).

Have I stepped into Diagon Alley?

Yeah, I know. Now just imagine what that tastes like. 

And when the sun set over the Boston harbor and the lights of the city reflected off the calm water, I knew I had fallen in love with city.

Lost in Newport’s Prosperous Gaze

Hello, dears. It’s been three long months since we returned from are saga across the United States. Since then, we’ve been hard at work searching for permanent work whilst shamelessly taking advantage of life unemployed. I’m eyeing a marketing opportunity in the heart of New York City, and my scientist husband is deciding between academia and the private sector. In short, who knows where we’ll be and what we’ll be doing come 2016. As the old saying goes “Come what may!”

So, what better way to celebrate fleeting freedom than to ambitiously travel the world? We have big travel plans on the horizon, but this week we’re doing a short stint around New England, starting from New Jersey, and making our way up the northern coast – Connecticut, Rhode Island, Massachusetts, New Hampshire and Maine. For the grand finale, we’ve decided to spend two full days in Montreal, Quebec before making our way back down. Not bad, eh?

We’re already on day 3 of our travels and it’s been positively dreamy. We spent our first night in New Haven, Connecticut (home of Yale University) where we were graciously hosted by our good friend, Les. There we enjoyed (some of us more than others depending on the team) the heart stopping game between the Patriots and Giants and Les’ mouthwatering home-cooked pulled pork and barbecue sauce. It was a great night of friendship, fellowship, and plain ‘ole good eats.

Newport, Rhode Island

The following morning we made our way to Newport, Rhode Island where we spent the afternoon exploring the coastline. I was struck by the glistening crystal clear waters, quintessential harbors, and Gatsby-inspired mansions. I imagined what life was like for the patrons of this affluent neighborhood. It was strange how entirely separated I felt from the rest of the world. The sun shown brilliantly bright on all manner of seaside estates and chateaus, and I suddenly felt my usually trepid heart beat a little slower. On the surface of these opulent fortresses, war and violence seemed to not exist. I flirted with the idea of finding a small cottage somewhere and live within this seeming sphere of peace. But this place, with its turrets and perfect sea breeze, isn’t real life – at least for me.  And, my dear friend, I am quite certain that fleeing from the beautiful imperfections of this transient life is most unwise. So we took our photos, got back in the car, and made our way to the good city of Boston…

To be continued…

See what I mean?