Montreal

Milena and I arrived last night from Hamilton, and checked in to the Chateau Versaille. It's a beautiful old hotel that has been updated with orange walls and contemporary art. In 2005 the Conde Nast Traveller magazine named it the best hotel in Montreal. There are bronze lions guarding the door and art nouveau lamps on the landing. Our colleagues here chose it for the delegates to the research meeting.

Unfortunately, as with all revised old places to stay, I find the scale a bit hard to manage. I stand in my shower and the shower curtain is stuck to one shoulder while the safety bar presses into my leg on the other side. The hanging lamps in the hallway don't quite hit my head. I don't quite hang over the end of the bed.

Last night we ate across the street at a fabulous restaurant called Bronte (www.bronterestaurant.com). We had an eight course tasting meal. Each course would fit in the palm of your hand and was tastefully plated on a giant white plate--each course had one with a different shape. In true French fashion, almost everything had a frothy reduction of some kind. There was white chocolate foam, for instance, on the pate. It was, I think, the most expensive meal I've ever eaten. I guess that may not be saying much, given my culinary past, but there it is. In 2004, they were named Canada's best new restaurant by En Route magazine.

Today it was a trip to Old Montreal. We had a brief moment of thinking the artistic autopsy exhibit might be in town, but alas when we reached the counter they were only opening in May. I pointed out to Milena that they were in Chicago when I was there, so that may still be the case when she goes to Chicago in early June. She accepted the disappointment with grace, I thought, and consoled herself with some digital photos of dark shabby alleys.

Walking up and down Rue St Catherine is always a pleasure, and we did a lot of this walking. Unlike for instance Whyte Ave in Edmonton, there's enough road that there are different sections, each with its own character and denizens. Milena remarked the number of homeless people who have pets with them. She seemed to think the pets were an indication of warmheartedness on the part of the people. The young man regaling his friends with tales of busting caps and splitting wigs, on the other hand, had no pet in sight.