Montreal

Canada has never felt so foreign to me. I guess I thought the same about New York when I entered its airport in the wee hours this morning. I suppose the East Coast sun had risen, but that was a secret jealously kept by the rain and lovesick clouds who were trying to have their way with the ground. All of this drama kept us on the ground for an extra hour. Our tiny plain was number 30 in line for takeoff. Until today, I have never had a pilot turn off the engine and announce that it was ok to turn your cell phones and ipods back on for at least 20 more minutes. When we landed and deplaned in Montréal, the customs agents were as reluctant to let me in as New York was to let me out. Maybe it was because I had a one way ticket to a yoga ashram, or maybe it was because my appearance was affected by the past eight hours that felt like trying to sleep on a wooden benched rollercoaster. Thinking back at the situation, it could also possible that they were toying with me. The three separate women who sent me into the depth of beaurocratic maze were all about my age, they all sent me forward with a slightly coy smirk and the third one said that it was really slow right now but I should come back later. I bet every day during their lunchtime smoke break they get together and talk about the “victim of the day” Long story short, I’m now in Café Vienne a block from the bus station waiting for a bus to take me to Val Morin.
It’s really fun to be in a foreign country again. Outside the rain is falling and two guys in electric wheel chairs with cigarettes dangling from their lips are on opposite sides of the street racing each other while pedestrians dive out of the way. Across the street is a Libanaise (that’s how it is spelled) restaurant with a neon sign that has a neon knife wielding chef cutting neon lamb slices for neon kababs. When I have worn my welcome out here I’ll probably go across the street and look for some exotic food and tea.

I have heard French people make fun of Canadian French because it offends their ears. I just offend myself when I have to order things in English because all I took in College for a foreign language was American Sign Language. Regardless, people have been very kind to me here.
It has been a strange transition this past few months. I went from full time job to long distance motorcycle riding to a retreat in the woods of Northern California and Oregon to Las Vegas complete with casinos and bars and now I am about to have a month of a strict yogic lifestyle. The whole point was to shake up the snowglobe I call my psyche. When this is all over it will be interesting to see what it looks like when the snowflakes land. I’m just kind of hoping that there will be a palm tree there.