chris-joe
20.06.04, 03:04
In just over a month it will be 3 years since I moved to Montreal after 14
years that I spent in Vancouver, British Columbia.
I used to be, when I was growing up, decidedly a Francophile. From a
distance of Poland I strongly sympathized with the notion and the nation of
Quebec. In fact, when I was moving to Canada the original goal was
Montreal. It was due to some personal and bureaucratic turbulences that I
landed in BC. I grew to like it there, respect it, and -willy-nilly- have
become an Anglo somewhat. With strong sympathy for the distant Belle
Province always intact, even throughout the period of the separatist
referendum. The referendum failed, Quebec stayed within the Federation, and
so a few years later when I was moving here I didn’t need to cross any
international frontiers- I took a domestic flight.
Yes, at first I was smitten with the “European flavor” of Montreal, its
nightlife, “the vibes”, the innumerable cafes and restaurants spread across
the city’s sidewalks, vibrant, always teeming with people. You could smoke
here (which after restrictive BC was a revelation), buy beer at a corner
store, and the clubs were open (and full) till 3am!
Initially, contrary to the ample warnings I had been given by my fellow
British Columbians who claimed to know Quebecers, I found the local populace,
if not overly welcoming, very tolerant towards me- a new Anglo arrival, and
towards my pathetic attempts on broken French. I did try hard and after the
first coy month or so I was insisting on speaking French rather than English
with the locals, even if they found my French so… “French”, and I found
theirs so… completely incomprehensible.
After a short while though, many have grown tired and impatient with my poor
French. There were insults and ostracism. Not that I don’t speak French -I
do- but because I find it so difficult to understand. When I was learning
English years ago in Vancouver, I found British Columbians wonderfully
patient and understanding when it came to newcomers’ linguistic struggles,
they were encouraging and tried hard to make themselves understandable.
Unlike the French-Canadians. It is very rare, indeed, to meet someone here
who would attempt to speak slowly and clearly for a learner’s benefit. It is
sink or swim, and when you sink you’re on your own- you flanked, you don’t
belong, adieu.
So, when I first relocated here in a midst of a “no vacancy” crisis I rented
a decent place for a decent price, I thought. That is until I was repeatedly
told by the outraged Montrealers that I was paying way too much and that much
better deals were to be had in the city. Soon I discovered those better
deals. Yes, they were half the price of what you would pay in Vancouver, no
doubt, but their standard too was half of what would be acceptable in BC. I
may be wrong, but it seems to me that a better half of Montrealers live in
places like those, and they are content. The “logements” buildings, as most
of Montreal edifices indeed, are decrepit, little or no care is given to
renovate them, to make them nice to the eye.
Montreal does have a good number of spectacularly beautiful old-Quebec
buildings dating back to the beginning of the 20th century, but they too are
falling to pieces or collapse in utter neglect. Most are still inhabited and
the rent is low (really “good deals”), it’s just that their standard would be
close to that of Vancouver’s skid row. The famed and trendy and outrageously
overpriced Plateau district is no exception.
To add insult to this peculiarity- the city is filthy! The filthiest in
Canada hands down. Yet, Montreal’s hygiene may stick out like a sore thumb
next to that of nearby Toronto or the next-door Ottawa but Paris is the
yardstick here. “Montreal dirty? You should see Paris!”; “The traffic of
Montreal? Try Paris!”- they like to say.
The traffic of Montreal… hmm, let it suffice to say that for a pedestrian
crossing a street on the green lights is less safe than, say, playing
Russian roulette, and when one manages to survive this feat physically
unscathed they still have to bear the most obscene verbal abuses hurled at
them for daring to be in the way of a “je me souviens” vehicle. There seems
to be no single traffic rule heeded here, and the police… (But hey, try
Paris!)
When I speak with Montrealers of this “being laid back” when it comes to the
traffic rules, they laugh (one called it “a ballet”, lovingly), they think it
cute when I find it arrogant and outright dangerous.
Vancouverites are the most avid critics of their city, bitching about
Vancouver is widespread there and encouraged. In fact, you’re not a true
Vancouverite until you are able to spend an entire afternoon over a cup of
coffee verbally tearing Vancouver to smithereens.
In Montreal, however, when you’re asked “Oh, so you’re from Vancouver, how do
you like it here?” you have to bear in mind that what they’re really asking
is “Isn’t Montreal the best?! You must be soooo happy to have moved here.
On the scale from 1 to 10 how would you rate Montreal- 11 or 10.99?”
I confess to have forgotten about it once in one of my careless moments. And
so, when a cabby asked me THE question, after having listed all the pros (I
was being so slyly diplomatic, I thought) I ventured into mentioning some of
my favorite peeves about Montreal. The cheerful and friendly cabby stopped
the car (no stopping allowed in that particular spot, but remember Paris…),
turned to me over the back of his seat, his face seething with hatred, and
yelled in staccato “I have traveled the world and Montreal is the most beau-
ti-ful city of all!” I eagerly agreed.
And then there is the omnipresent Toronto complex. You are allowed here to
choose any world city and declare you took a fancy to it. All but Toronto.
When you mention Toronto in Montreal it is like you press a play button and
what you always hear is: business, finance, stiff, boring, stuck-up etc.
Mind you, no one here seems to have ever actually visited Toronto. Why?
Because it’s business, finance, stiff, boring, stuck-up. “Oh, and no one
speaks French there! In fact they don’t like Quebecers in Toronto. -Well,
but if you’ve never been to Toronto, how do you know? -A friend of mine’s
been there.”
It must be the same one friend everyone here has and I’m still to meet him.
I am not giving up on Montreal. Not until, at least, I learn (proper) French
and am capable to understand Quebecois. I may move to Toronto by then, but
then again, I may stay and, who knows, grow to like this city.
Here you have it. I have bitched.