Au revoir

I guess it’s about time that I try to write something about what’s going on. I intend to be as candid and introspective as I can force myself to me, so I apologize if I offend you. If you read something upsetting talk to me about it.

I set off from St. John’s for Montreal on a Wednesday and everything went fine. Saying goodbye to the family was sad but the anxiety and rush of the day dominated my sentiments. I owe a lot to my family, although no longer financially. Parenting is no easy job, and I try and appreciate that as objectively as possible. I’m so lucky that a couple of eighties era hipsters could turn a surprise pregnancy into the fantastic upbringing that I’ve had. Living away from my parents for a time really drove that point home for me. Hopefully I won’t feel too distanced from them when I come back from Europe.

The flight was perfectly adequate and uneventful. I managed to grind through some of the training documents in the air, none of which were particularly earth shattering. A little paranoia was bubbling under the surface, as I worried that everyone would be better prepared than myself. Not long after arriving it became clear that most people were at least as unfamiliar with the material. The stopover in Montreal was a lovely little time and gave me the opportunity to catch up a bit with some of my oldest and dearest friends. Nicolay and Jake were kind enough to meet me at the airport and we split a taxi to Verdun where Nico’s new place is located. It’s roughly in the south-east of the island of Montreal and is ranked a whopping six on the list of hip neighbourhoods by local indie rag The Montreal Mirror. The apartment is decently sized with a cute little terrace, but some unfortunate paint choices. Compared to Jake’s apartment much further uptown it was probably less elegant but more functional, although Jake is paying out the ass for his single. We scooted around and had fun and interesting conversation, in establishments and back at home base. The special pleasure I receive from good conversation is the thing that I miss most about the old days. An incredible blend of intellectualism and juvenilia with a smattering of neurotic wit and black humour that I expect I will spend the rest of my life seeking out.

We were joined by Adam the next day, and we had about a little more than 24 hours to amuse ourselves and be tourists. It is after all a vacation for him. We puttered around the city, rode the Metro up and down endlessly, walked excessively, ate out and drank in. I found the whole affair pretty enjoyable, although it dragged at times. Despite the many years that have passed really none of us have changed that much, besides physically of course. It’s comforting in some ways, and depressing in others. What’s the point of all the life experience if were the same at the other end of it? Montreal is so damn multiethnic it excites and slightly annoys me. I walked by a row of payphones downtown and each had someone speaking a different language. I still find Montreal a little daunting, it seems so easy to lose oneself there. Nevertheless I could see myself living there. They do have an awesome public library.

Our main activity, which had more or less been planned in advance, was scaling the actual Mountain that the city is kind of built around. It’s a bit of a tourist trap but the grounds themselves are massive and largely serve for the pleasure of locals. The landscaping of the whole place is impeccable, and there’s quite a lovely trail system and endless fields that surround it. We sat on the grass and ate ice cream in the shade before hauling our sweaty asses up to the summit. Overall, an excellent way to say goodbye to my friends and to the country of my birth.

I was mildly oppressed throughout the visit by the breakup that immediately preceded my departure, but not to the point of total distraction. At times I felt rather regretful, but for the most part it was just a faint shadow over me. I correctly predicted that by the time I crossed the Atlantic I would be too damn involved to be morose. On Friday we slept off the drink late and I found myself rather pressed for time as I had to be at the airport well in advance. We ate Lebanese pizza in the centre-ville and clued up at the apartment. We said an awkward goodbye, and I wished them all well in their endeavours. We’re such an unstable lot that I could never guarantee that everyone will be successful in their measurable affairs, but it would make me tremendously happy to see everyone genuinely content with their lives. I left them planning further adventures in the city, but I found myself rather unemotional. Perhaps it’s because I’ve done it so many times, or because of how everyone has become gradually more estranged, Indeed you might even say that were not particularly close friends anymore. But maybe it’s that I know that no matter how long we go without speaking or meeting nothing will really change between us. Perhaps we are in fact the best of friends. I couldn’t make up my mind so I decided to lug my thirty kilos of luggage across town, sit in a giant noisy building for several excruciating hours and then cram myself into a tin can and fly over a whole shitload of water.