After a long, peaceful night of sleep, I am re-acclimating myself to life in Los Angeles. Is it re-acclimating? Or reacclimatizing? See? Even the part of my brain responsible for spelling and grammar is worn-out from travel. In six days I went from LA to New Jersey to NYC to Montreal to Burlington and back. There was not much time for relaxation. Unless you consider dinner at Michelin-starred restaurants and multiple-thousand calorie Canadian feasts to be “relaxing”. I guess sweating out a hangover in a hot tub on the top floor of a hotel early Sunday morning was relaxing…
All the while, I photographed my surroundings. Well…not all the while. There were certain places where cameras were forbidden. But most of the time I was able to capture images from my adventures. And here there are, shrunken down and edited for your perusal. So you can feel like you were there in the car with me. Listening to Stern on satellite radio and/or Ian’s iPod filled with black metal bands I never knew existed. Enjoy the pictures.
Wednesday night, just a few hours after landing at Newark Liberty International Airport (I liked it better when it was just Newark Airport) my mother, sister and I dined at Daniel. If you ask my mother, it was a special occasion. If you ask my sister, it is just further evidence that I am the favorite child. She's only invited to fancy dinners when I visit home. Every other night she has to fend for herself. You can read my review of Daniel here.
Thursday for lunch my mother and I drove to Wegmans for lunch. Although mom had ulterior motives. She wanted to show me how construction was going on her mausoleum. She's said multiple times to me, "I bought one near Wegmans so that you'd have reason to come visit me when I'm dead."
Early Friday morning I departed from New Jersey for Montreal. The plan seemed simple: stop in Albany to pick up Ian and Evan, and join the caravan up to Quebec. It rained most of the way up I-87, but this was one moment when the skies turned clear.
Have you ever wondered how to play Craps? Ian will tell you all about the rules of Craps. Then Jon will show up and say, "Just play the 'Don't Pass' bar!" and everything will start to confuse you. Just ask Evan. It happened to him at a McDonalds somewhere near Saratoga Springs.
Here's part of the view from our hotel room in Montreal. Not bad, right? Except for the grey skies (those would clear up for a while on Saturday and then again Sunday morning) it was pretty great. A few blocks from Rue Saint-Urbain and Boulevard Saint-Laurent.
That's Mount Royal. The Mount Royal Cross sits atop it. Ben informed us -- useless trivia fact alert! -- that the cross will light up purple when the Pope dies. Every other night it lights up white. What an urban legend!
You don't need to know where this was taken. Just that there were lots of blacklights in the room. And, lord almighty do I look fat in this picture. I'm usually rather slight! Delicate! Malnourished! Manorexic!
This is the "La Danse" poutine at Resto La Banquise. It's a variation on the classic French Fries, Gravy, Cheese Curds dish that also includes bacon, chicken, onions, and sauce aux poivres (pepper sauce). The large portion size was very, very large.
L'oblique, one of my favorite record stores in Montreal. In the Plateau neighborhood. Back in my college days (sigh) this was the place to go for anything released via Constellation Records. On this trip I picked up a signed, numbered copy of the first Besnard Lakes album. Woo hoo!
That's a lot of East Coast Jew record collector scum to fill one room!
Beatnick. Another great record shop in the Plateau on Rue Saint-Denis (one of the hip streets in the neighborhood). Back in the day I scored some of the first records in my collection here, including Donovan's Greatest Hits (ha!), Depeche Mode's Violator, and the self-titled Smiths record. Wow, I was really gay in college. I didn't buy anything here on this trip.
Inside Beatnick. It's like a little maze of rooms!
After a long -- very long -- Saturday night, we decided on Sunday morning bagels. Our first stop was at St-Viateur Bagel in Mile End. No, there were no Godspeed You Black Emperor sightings. Just fresh-out-of-the-oven, delicious Montreal bagels. Second only to New York/New Jersey bagels.
Elsewhere in Mile End, you could walk into any shop (and lots of families were on this Sunday morning) and pick up some fresh produce or preserves! Want some Kimchi? Maybe some peaches? This little place has you covered! Next door was Fairmount Bagels, another incredible little business with piping-hot, fresh-out-of-the-oven bagels. Here the line extended out the door. I thought St-Viateur was better at the time, but once I returned to Jersey I found myself eating more of the Fairmount bagels. Go figure.
This was somewhere on A-35 (Quebec Autoroute) between Montreal and wherever Rte-133 begins. While all the other cars left for I-87 and the New York State Throughway, I headed for I-89 and Burlington, Vermont.
Finally the skies turned clear, somewhere near Henryville on Rte.-133 -- still in Canada. There were lots of farms dotting the rural Quebec landscape between Montreal and the border crossing.
Ira Allen Chapel on the campus of University of Vermont, the first of two colleges I attended in my former life as a student. I spent a few hours wandering campus and visiting old haunts like my freshman dorm and the new student center. Things sure have changed, but at every turn I had a series of weird nostalgia flashbacks. Or maybe there were acid flashbacks. Whichever.
The mascot of the University of Vermont is the catamount. So, naturally, one must pay respect to the catamount near the old bookstore at the center of campus before venturing on your way. Kisses.
On Central Campus near my freshman dorm. I still remember how beautiful it was in the middle of winter when all these branches would freeze and the icicles would grow. Also the hairs on the inside of my nose would freeze on the walks across campus to class buildings. That part kind of sucked, but was cool in a what-the-fuck!? kind of way.
Church Street on a Sunday afternoon. One of the best little stretches in the country. I can't even count the number of times I've walked these streets. Monday open-mic at Radio Bean (ok, so that was technically on S. Winooski), Kountry Kart Deli (alright, that was technically on (Main), the record stores, the guitar shop, the head shops, it was awesome. And never more awesome than on a beautiful Sunday afternoon.
Lake Champlain. Where many a thought has been pondered. Is Champ lurking somewhere just below the surface? We'll never known until someone figures out how to drain it.
A few miles down the road from Burlington (past the Magic Hat brewery) is Shelbourne Farms. This farm produces some of the best bacon and best Vermont cheddar you will ever taste.
Tasting of cheddars? Don't mind if I do! Six-Month, 12-month, 2-year and 3-year cheddars, plus a "tractor cheddar" (a strong, unusual, often funky cheddar that varies in flavor from batch to batch). I spent a lot of money here on gifts for family.
The city of Vergennes in Vermont boasts a population of over 2,000! It is also my favorite stop on any drive from Burlington to my home in New Jersey, because for the past 10+ years I always stop to call my mom and tell her, "I'm inside Virgins right now!" At which point she sighs or groans or hangs up on me. That's what moms are for, right?
Nucleus – You Can’t Be Sure [MP3]
