It’s the epitome of a summer morning.  The sun is shining, the breeze is cool and refreshing, and there are cool shadows all over the city.  I walked through campus and noticed all the stately architecture, and how the light was just-right to emphasize the old stone relief work on many of the Victorian era buildings.  It’s a quiet Monday, as tomorrow is a national holiday here.  Tomorrow, in the rest of Canada (and also Quebec) is Canada Day, but most Quebecers call it moving day.  To divert attention away from national pride, long ago, rents were government-regulated to be from July 1-June 30th, meaning moving day was on the national holiday.  Quebec’s ‘national holiday’, St. Jean Baptiste Day, is precisely one week ahead of Canada Day.  Already, the onslaught of double-parked moving vans and weary-and-dirty-looking tenants has begun.  

Pete and I live in a working-class neighborhood.  It’s a fun place to be–our neighbors, young and old, sit on their porches, because many people (including us) don’t have air conditioning.  I love walking by and saying “Bonjour” especially to the friendly elderly faces.  Aside from porch-sitters, there are tons of cats that roam the neighborhood.  One in particular cracks me up. She’s a pretty black and white feline, clearly domesticated, and she’s always walking stealthily through the neighbors’ grass, on the hunt for something. Many people put a lot of time and energy into their yards (I can’t wait to get at least a planter outside or maybe a hanging basket), and it’s a great neighborhood for walks.  

The thoroughfare of our neighborhood is laden with restaurants, clothing shops, cafés, bookstores and furniture stores, along with the occasional junk store.  Like something out of 1984, the street has a speaker on every corner, and most days, they play random music during business hours.  It seems like a vessel for propaganda or brainwashing to me.  While the street has its very nice establishments, I’d say the majority of the street (and the area) feels like it’s stuck back in the early 1990’s.  Even the people and their hairstyles and attire seem to come from that era.  To be honest, it’s a nice break from the fashion anxiety caused by living downtown and seeing the ridiculous cream-of-the-crop businesspeople. 

Before, I was living in what was deemed the ‘Golden Square Mile’ for its wealth and the fact that in the late 1800’s, 80% of Canada’s wealth was represented by the families living in amazing properties in that area.  It was an amazing location and so unique to look across the street from my place and see a wonderful art museum.  I loved my landlady and my sweet apartment.  Aesthetically, I really loved living downtown. Yet, this new neighborhood, even with its quirks and at times, ugliness, is a comfortable environment.  Pete and I have made a home of our great apartment.  We like exploring different streets and walking half a block down to the river, where there are trails that stretch for miles and miles.  We have neighbors and friends a block away from us, who go to our church.  There are good places to eat, and it just lacks the pretension of the frantic downtown scene.     

What a place.