Montreal, 19-22 May 2011

Montreal, second-largest city in Canada and second-biggest French speaking city on the planet, comes as a brash a dirty shock compared to the calm little Ottawa I have left behind.  My train has made good time in getting here - I've been on the rails for less than two hours before we are chugging through mile-upon mile of, at times, depressing suburbs.  Eventually some skyscrapers pop into view, as the lines curve around the city, then penetrate to its very heart, delivering us to Gare Centrale de Montreal - Montreal Central - a sort-of subterranean station, now almost entirely hidden by the encroaching buildings of the modern city.

My first observation - and I don't know why this is a surprise - is that everything is in French.  I had assumed, as was the case in the capital, that signage would be bilingual, but this not being the case, I leave the station with phrasebook in hand.  My hotel, the Saint-Andre, lays on the outer part of the city centre, in an obviously poorer part of town inhabited by a colourful cast of students from the Université du Québec à Montréal (UQAM). My guesthouse doesn't look too promising, but I receive a very warm and friendly welcome by the owner himself, an older man with dark, gelled-back hair, a little pointy moustache, a jolly smile, and a strong French-Canadian accent.  He confesses he is pleased to hear me speaking English, as the Italian couple in the queue ahead of me were quite a challenge.  We chat about the Canadian holiday season, and he tells me that his busiest time of year is when the Grand Prix rolls into town.  "It's also the time I make the mega bucks" he says, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together.  I ask him if business is going well so far this year, to which he replies: "Oh yes!  Actually the hotel is currently overbooked, so I may have to murder one of the guests!"

The following morning, I take a leisurely stroll around Montreal's old town - Vieux Montreal - the original part of the city, where quaint old streets on the north bank of the St Lawrence River are punctuated by the fabulous Basilique Notre-Dame-de-Montreal, the city's grandest Catholic Church.  Originally built in the 17th century, the congregation had outgrown the church by 1824, and James O'Donnell, an Irish-American Protestant from New York, was commissioned to design a new building.  Being a proponent of the Gothic Revival movement, he designed the new church along this style, and when finished it became the largest church in North America.  Interesting side-note about James O'Donnell - he loved his church so much that, in order to be buried in it, he converted to Catholicism on his deathbed, and remains the only person buried in its crypt.  The lavish interior is indeed an awesome sight, its golden reredos sparkling throughout the nave, whilst beautiful stained glass windows allow in just the right amount of light,  The interior itself took a lot longer to complete, finally finished in 1879 to incredible detail.  A Chapelle du Sacre-Coeur (Chapel of the Sacred Heart) was added in 1888, along with a 32-foot organ in 1899.  Certainly I've never seen anything quite like it, and I can imagine the Montreal congregation on the 19th century attending services here, perhaps on a winter's evening.  It certainly adds to the swashbuckling atmosphere of the Old Town.

Basilique Notre-Dame-de-Montreal

Montreal Old Town

Just around the corner from the cathedral lies an old firehall, built in 1903 on one side of Place d'Youville.  This rather pretty building is now the Centre d'Historie de Montreal, a small interactive museum that traces the development of the city in five stages, from, the meeting of First Peoples and Europeans in 1535, to the 1960s.  It's possibly the best small museum I've ever visited, the information boards reading like a humourous story, light-hearted whilst also factual.  The addition of contemporary maps, paintings and photographs make this a charming place to linger, and you can clearly see that a great deal of thought has gone into the design of the exhibits.  It's a pretty decent grounding in the key moments of Montreal's history, all tied up in a lovely period building.

Centre d'histire de Montreal

Refreshing myself all-too-briefly back at the hotel, I ask my friendly murderous hotelier for a series of directions, then set off into the Montreal's fabulous metro network, under the mighty St Lawrence, and to the island of St Helene, home of Expo '67, the most successful World's Fair of the twentieth century, and the less-famous the Fort de Île Sainte-Hélène, built in the wake of the War of 1812.  To my sadness the fort is closed for my visit, but its surrounds are the perfect escape for the weary traveller, with woodland pathways and streams providing some wonderful respite from the bustling city.  Most visitors to St Hélène don't come for the fort at all, but rather to see the site of Expo '67, which is dominated by the Biosphere, the former American pavilion at the fair, and now an interactive museum about the St Lawrence River.  But perhaps the best attraction of all is the riverside view looking back towards the city, old town in the foreground, sky scrapers behind, a beautiful jewel floating on the river.

Montreal from Île Sainte-Hélène

The biosphere from Expo '67

Back on the mainland, I pay a visit to the Bell Center, home of the Montreal Canadiens hockey team, who play downtown in amongst the hubbub of the city.  One of the oldest sports clubs in North America, they have a pedigree to match their age.  Despite no cup win since 1993, the club are still way out in front with the most Stanley Cup championships, and if you're talking about great sporting clubs of the world, then this is one of them for sure.  Outside the Bell Center, the Canadiens have immortalised four of their greatest players - Jean Beliveau, Maurice "Rocket" Richard, Guy Lafleur, and Howie Morenz.  Each is worthy of more than a brief mention, but it is the story of Howie Morenz that made the most impact on me.

The Bell Center, home of the Montreal Canadiens

Howie Morenz can lay a claim to being the first superstar of the National Hockey League.  Brought to Montreal in 1924, Morenz was an instant hit, helping Montreal to several Stanley Cups in the second half of the 1920s and early 1930s.  When the Great Depression hit, Morenz was sold to Chicago as part of a cost-cutting exercise, in a very unpopular move.  Morenz returned to Montreal with his Chicago team in the 1934-35 season, and when he scored a goal against the Canadiens, the home fans gave him a standing ovation.  After a battle to save the hockey club during the Great Depression, a syndicate of local businessmen bought the club and rehired former coach Cecil Hart, who only agreed to return on the condition that Howie Morenz was brought back to the team.  This was not to be a happy return, however - in January 1937, Morenz was checked by Chicago's Earl Seibert, his skate caught the ice, and his leg was broken in four places.  Morenz would never play hockey again, and died of a coronary embolism two months later.  An explanation of his death was provided by Montreal's left winger, Aurel Joliat: "Howie loved to play hockey more than anyone ever loved anything, and when he realised that he would never play again ,he couldn't live with it.  I think Howie died of a broken heart."  On the day of his funeral, 50,000 people filed past Morenz's casket to pay their respects, and a benefit game raised $20,000 for his family.  In 1945, Howie Morenz was one of the first players elected into the Hockey Hall of Fame.

Howie Morenz statue at the Bell Center

I wish I could catch a game a the Bell Center, but the Canadiens failed to make the 2011 play-offs, and so I must content myself with the club's megastore, selling the usual sporting fare.  As it's a pleasant evening, I sit a while in the Bell Center square, which is also home to a railway hub, and watch the commuters leave the city centre for their homes.  You can feel the sense of sporting history about this place, the pride and passion of the city, as important to Montreral as the San Siro is to Milan, as Fenway is to Boston.  It's also an appropriate moment to be feeling this passion, for many miles away across the Atlantic, Torquay United are competing in a play-off semi-final against Shrewsbury Town, a match that has been in my mind all day long.  A sudden text from home announces that they have won, and are through to the final.  I raise a smile and leave the Bell Center, like countless thousands of Canadiens fans before me, bathed in the warm glow of sporting victory.

The Canadiens megastore at the Bell Center

Another morning, this time pounding the streets of McGill College Avenue, towards the McCord Museum of Canadian History, where I am suddenly stopped dead in my tracks by the appearance of a sculpture.  It's entitled The Illuminated Crowd by the artist Raymond Mason, and for some reason, it captivates me.  The piece depicts a group of 65 citizens gathered together and seemingly looking toward a light.  At the front of the crowd, characters are diligently and respectfully observing the light, as if caught in its wonder.  As the light decreases towards the back of the sculpture, the mood of the piece changes - there is hooliganism, distress and debauchery.  The inscription reads: "A crowd has gathered, facing a light, an illumination brought about by a fire, an event, an ideology - or an ideal.  The strong light casts shadows, and as the light moves back and diminishes, the mood degenerates; rowdiness, disorder and violence occur, showing the fragile nature of man.  Illumination, hope, involvement, hilarity, irritation, fear, illness, violence, murder and death - the flow of man's emotion through space."

The Illuminated Crowd sculpture

The Illuminated Crowd sculpture

The McCord Museum began as a collection of all things Canadian, acquired by the lawyer David Ross McCord.  In 1919 he donated his collection to McGill University, who established a museum in 1921, and have been adding to it ever since.  In celebration of the 90th anniversary, an exhibition entitled 90 Treasures, 90 Stories, 90 Years is running, with artefacts picked by the museum team.  Contained within the treasures are documents written by the Governor General of New France, Louis de Buade; a journal belonging to Major General James Wolfe; and Maurice Richard's Canadiens hockey sweater.  Upstairs, the permanent exhibition, Simply Montreal, runs through the everyday life of the city.  There is a lovely sledge and snowshoes selection, areas on different sports (hockey of course, but also skating, fishing, skiing, lacrosse, and even cricket), and a focus on fashion (one notes a 1920s cocktail shaker, glasses and soda fountain.)

Snow shoes at the McCord Museum

Leaving the museum, I wander the grounds of McGill University for a while, and am approached by a student asking for directions in French.  Acknowledging very quickly that I don't understand, he repeats his question in perfect English.  Of course, I am still none-the-wiser as to his destination, and as we part, it occurs to me that with my slightly travel-worn appearance, he may think I'm a student.  Not that I'd be offended, for taking a look around McGill, I wish I had studied here - the buildings are period, the grounds lovely, and there's even a student allotment.

The grounds of McGill University

If you leave the University grounds in a north-westerly direction, it's more than likely you will walk straight into Mont Royal, the city's defining natural landmark, first sighted by European eyes in 1535, when Jacques Cartier visited Hochelaga, the 16th century fortified village that predated the modern city.  Nowadays the mountain is a wonderful green space, protected by law from future development, thus theoretically green forever.  The hill officially became a park in 1876 when the city bought the land and hired Frederick Law Olmsted - the man responsible for New York's Central Park - to design the space.  A good 300 steps up brings me to the terrace of Chalet du Mont-Royale Pavilion, home of Centre de la Montagne, a citizen group set up to enhance the preservation and education of the site. From here, the views over Downtown are to die for, stretching from McGill University and the Bell Center, all the way to the St Lawrence River and beyond.  I actually think this may be my abiding memory of Montreal.

Montreal as seen from Mont Royal

Descending into the city once more, weary and ready for my hotel bed, I stop at the Eaton Center - one of the city's many malls - and realise on entrance that I have delved into Montreal's famous underground city, La Ville Souterraine.  With 19 miles of passages and walkways, 1,600 shops, 200 restaurants, 40 banks, cinemas with a total of 40 screens, seven hotels and three exhibition centres, this is the largest underground complex in the world.  With seven metro stations, two commuter train stations and a regional bus terminal, the complex offers everything the Montrealer could ever need to survive the long and bitter winter months, and it is reckoned that in winter, 500,000 people use some part of it every single day.  Shopping continues above ground too of course, especially on Rue Saint-Catherine, where the famous Hudson's Bay Company has an outlet.  I step in and take a look at the famous thick blankets they have on sale, made in England of caribou wool, with a decent sized one costing around £350.  I can't afford one, but I like them a lot, and fancy that my bedroom of the future could have one of these thrown across the bed, or draped over an armchair.

I intend to make my final day in Montreal a lazier affair, so I abandon plans to find the Church of Miracles or head out to the Olympic Park.  If I only have 24 hours left here, I want to spend it back in the Old Town, settling on the Musée Pointe-à-Callière, a museum dedicated to the founding of the city at Place Royale.  The visit begins by sitting on tiered seats and watching an 18-minute video presentation on massive surround screens, headphones tuned to the language of your choice.  My guidebook describes this experience as such: "one of the most inspired introductions to any museum - this voyage through the discovery of Montreal enchants visitors and sets the scene for a memorable visit."  And oh boy, did my guidebook tell the truth about this.  The film is phenomenal, colourful, interactive, innovative and graphically superb, and I'm not the only one who thinks so - at its conclusion, an impromptu round of applause comes up from some members of the audience.  After the presentation, visitors are left to wander beneath the city, where wonderful archaeological remains of Montreal's earliest buildings have been excavated and preserved.  Most of the tour group hurry through, so I linger for a few minutes until I am entirely alone in this underground world.  I walk past North America's oldest Catholic cemetery, the city's first customs house, the foundations of the once-mighty Royal Insurance Company of Britain, a crypt, a pumping station, cobblestones, walls, market gates, and a portion of the William collector sewer, an old sewage drain which the museum is renovating and which will, when opened, become the longest underground exhibit in the world.  If Montreal is a tale of two underground cities, then this one knocks the socks off the Downtown mall.

The Catholic cemetery at the Musée Pointe-à-Callière

Musée Pointe-à-Callière

Back above ground, I browse Old Town's souvenir shops, and eventually settle for two abiding images of Canada - a hockey puck, and a bottle of maple syrup.  The sun sets in the historic sky, and the time comes to move on again, to try and draw some conclusions about Montreal.  I have to admit, I've found the city more rough-and-ready than I was expecting, more bustling, more energetic and, for an historic city, more modern.  Montreal's brilliant though - it incorporates a lot of the past into its present, mixes this with abundant commerce, religion, sport and culture, then throws in a pinch of the exotic, to make one of the most wonderful cities I've ever visited.  In a leaflet I picked up at the McCord Museum, the description of the city concludes my thoughts far more succinctly than I am able to do: "At times dazzling and dark, dignified and frivolous, steamy-hot and icy-cold, Montreal - city of a thousand spires and crossroads of a continent - casts its eternal spell".  Perhaps that's a good place to leave it, at least for now, because I get the overwhelming feeling that I haven't seen the last of the magical city on the banks of the St Lawrence.

Montreal Old Town with the cathedral poking above the surrounding buildings