Departure day is never the best day of a trip — but they’re never the worst. It’s always the day I’m most pensive and reflective about my time spent away.
We woke up early in order to have time for breakfast, and we were at the front door of L’Avenue just as they opened. My stomach was a mess from the night before — turns out tapas + donut + espresso + smoked meat poutine is not a great recipe for gastrointestinal health. We sat in a booth near the back, close to the large window out to the alley. Mark and Esley had amazing, adventurous breakfasts — I went much more simple in order to keep myself in order.
Two scrambled eggs, half a house-made sausage, one piece of wheat toast, a few forkfuls of potatoes, bits and pieces of a fruit kebab.
Midway through our meal, the entire place went dark. Lights, music, computers — everything. It turned the vibrant, loud and bright space calm, quiet and dark. It was actually really lovely. The waitress came by to apologize, and said the meal was on the house — such a surprise! We thanked her profusely, and she apologized again for the darkness. I mentioned that it was kind of lovely, and she agreed.
“Très romantique, non?”
We piled all of our remaining cash on the table as a big tip and meandered back out to the street, full and happy. We googled the situation and found that a cable somewhere had been cut — 250,000 people were left in the dark.
Back to the house, to pack — and then into the metro, onto a bus and to the airport. We arrived early, as Esley’s flight was before ours — so we hung out in the terminal, drinking beer and chatting, our laughter echoing off of the polished floor. Soon, it was Esley’s time to head out and we hugged — “See you next time, friend.”
A few hours later, it was our turn. We taxied the runways for what felt like forever, the rain speckling the windows — and when we finally became airborne, I revisited the whole trip in my head. My anxiety (and my stomach) had settled — and the warn memories of the past days came back in technicolor. We walked almost 40 miles, ate everything we could get our hands on, saw one of our idols speak in public, explored the metro system…
“A perfect little trip,” I thought. “And we need to come back as soon as possible.”
Thank you, Montréal — for everything. Your city is beautiful, and we can’t wait to come back and explore it even more.