love story | chris & thom

After talking for hours, neither of them was ready to go home. So, instead of saying goodbye after what had been an amazing first date, they picked up a few snacks, and walked to a nearby park.

It was in there that Chris and Thom stayed up all night, sharing tea and pie, laughing at the different characters who wandered by, asking each other a million questions. They sat cross-legged in the tube of the playground and talked until the sun was just about to rise.

They've been together ever since.

Thom lives here in Montreal, and Chris is doing his PhD in Philadelphia, but the long phone calls, emails, and texts that characterize a long-distance relationship are precious to them, and only make their connection stronger.

Chris contacted me with the sweetest birthday gift idea for Thom: he asked me if I would take photos of the place where they fell for each other. I was so honoured to be asked. How amazing to document a place that special to two people.

With Chris' help, I tried to capture their park as it must have looked that night, and convey that dreamy tunnel vision and obliviousness to fatigue that fresh love brings.

Chris, thank you for sharing this memory with me, and for allowing me to help re-create it for Thom. Also, thanks for the coffee; it was damn cold that night!

up! magazine feature: amy millan at liverpool house

Back in September, I spent a fantastic evening at Montreal's Liverpool House with friend and writer Sarah Lolley and singer/guitarist Amy Millan. The feature is now published in up! Magazine.

Additional photos in the online version:
Singer Amy Millan shares why Montreal's Liverpool House is her favourite spot in the city

Twestival MTL

Last Thursday, I volunteered as a photographer for Twestival Montreal, an event that raised money for Charity: Water.

Event photos can be seen here.

I am really loving doing event photography. Although portraiture will always be my favourite form of photography (one-on-one bonding, makeup, and all that good stuff), I have a fabulous time at big events too. It's a great opportunity to meet loads of new people, and it gives me an excuse to dress up!

hockey fans, hipsters gone wild

You know you're in Montreal when, during a celebratory hockey riot, the main stores looted contain either booze or overpriced hipster clothing. Not a stereo place or jewellery store was touched.

Check here and here for pics of the riot in various stages.

stormy weather

Let's get the weather out of the way first: we in Montreal (and across south-eastern Canada) have had 3 major snow storms in one week. Jennie and her boyfriend Zach got snowed in at our place last Tuesday night, and we got snowed in at their place in Ottawa this weekend. I have no memory of a winter that surpassed this one. That being said, there are ways to take advantage of such an extreme winter.

Option 1: Embrace it

Last weekend, I attended Montreal's edition of Nuit Blanche, an all-night party spread across the city's cultural venues. We started out at a giant gallery that had all kinds of lovely art, performance pieces, a free cupcake feast and cheap apricot beer. After dancing in the snow at the Old Port, watching a disco dance at Old City Hall, eating maple syrup poured on ice, dressing up and having our photos taken at a costume shop, listening to organists play horror themes at a cathedral, and passing out at the planetarium, Brian and I made it to the free breakfast at 4:30 am. I was surprised to see a lot of small children who made it through the night at hungrily ate their free breakfast. I admire their stamina.

Ariana and I, falling asleep in line for the free breakfast

I know many other cities are starting to join the Nuit Blanche tradition, keeping their museums, galleries, and other cultural spaces open all night. I think it is a fantastic idea, and it is taken up by citizens with enthusiasm. I'm not sure how similar the Toronto version of Nuit Blanche is, but if it's anything like Montreal's, I would certainly recommend it.

Another way to embrace this weather is to frolic in it. During the height of the latest storm on Saturday night, a few of us piled on some winter gear (and in my case, some scuba goggles) to play in the snow. Instead of grumbling about the storm, why not make the best of it? There's nothing to get endorphins pumping like flailing one's body into 4 feet of snow.








Option 2: Become an Indoor Activity Enthusiast

In addition to my ballet classes (which I do not enjoy, but take as some kind of self-imposed torture), I have recently started taking ballroom dancing lessons. Believe it or not, this was my dad's idea. He thought it might be good for my dancing confidence (of which I have little) and brighten up my winter life. He was right. I think I have found a new passion. Despite his penchant for silk shirts, my instructor is great. Let me tell you, busting out a Viennese waltz is one way to dance away the winter blahs.

One aspect of the lessons is a supervised practice period. At this point, the instructors lower the lights, turn on the disco ball, and start calling out dances to each successive song. I managed to learn the basics of the tango, foxtrot, swing, hustle, mambo, rumba and many more within that period. My favourite partner was 80something man who hobbled over to me to ask for a dance. Once the music started, however, he straightened up and, as if by magic, was the strongest dancer on the floor. I could not keep up with him if I tried, and believe me I was trying. If you are a hardcore Dirty Dancing fan, or just looking for a new activity, I would suggest taking a ballroom dancing class. It is surprisingly fun.

I am leaving for Toronto next Sunday. Before then, I have a heck of a lot to do. Here goes nothing!

occasion for champagne

This past weekend I had a much anticipated visit from some of my best, and oldest friends. The ladies finally made the long trek to Montreal and we had a lovely time.

Living with a guy doesn't give me much occasion to indulge my girly side. Try as I might, I can't convince Brian to do face masks or pedicures with me. Imagine my delight then, when my friend Jonina showed up with a bunch of beer, cheese curds, Lays bbq chips, and a freshly-burned Britney cd to get the night started. That girl knows the way to my heart.


After a dinner at the Spirite Lounge (a crazily-decorated restaurant owned and run by the Vegan Nazi, see photo above), we popped open the champagne, blasted the slightly embarassing aforementioned cd and had fun with makeup and (big) hair.

It was way too cold to venture very far, so I settled for taking the girls to nearby Crescent street. My logic was that if one place wasn't fun, other bars were only steps away. Big mistake. Every place had a line-up. We were stuck with 3 options: 9 dollar pints at an overpriced pub, paying cover (gasp), or going to the only bar that didn't have a line but was very sleazy.

After one drink at the pricey place, we tried to go to one mediocre-looking place, only to turn away when the cover was $8. The bouncer who had just checked our IDs yelled after us, "Now I know there is no way you guys are 24. What 24-year-olds can't afford an 8 dollar cover?"

We can't, I guess.

So, begrudgingly, we settled for the notorious cougar bar which I won't name because it's name now makes me shudder. We had been on the dance floor for all of 30 seconds when creepy old men started circling us like sharks. Circling turned to ogling turned to groping. After some harsh words and a near fist fight with one particular creep, we got the hell out of there.

It was an exceptionally slimy experience. I just hope the girls don't think all Montreal bars are that creepy. They certainly aren't. I have never seen anything like that in my life. It was like we were surounded by a swarm of locust-like dirty old men. Yuck.

Apart from that, however, it was fantastic to get together.

late night/early morning

This morning around 5 am, we were on our way home from a festive night of egg nog punch and Sing Star Kareoke. We needed money for the long cab ride home, but there was nary a bank machine in sight. The ATMs we did find were not working, so we kept walking.

"At this rate, we won't make it home before the sun comes up!" I whined, through chattering teeth.

"Dallas, look around you. It's a beautiful night. It's snowing just a little. We can sleep in until whatever time we want tomorrow. This is a pretty amazing time in our lives, so we should appreciate it. Remember to relax."

I pulled my hood over my head and kept walking into the wind, keeping my face down to avoid the snowflakes that were hitting me in the eyes. I was still feeling prety uptight until I peered from under my hood and saw my tipsy companion stumbling all over the sidewalk trying to catch snowflakes on his tongue.

I was about to warn him about the dangers of polluted snow, when I stopped taking things so seriously. I took a cue from my walking partner, and began to enjoy the simple fun of an early winter snowfall on the long walk home.

free rides and treasures

This weekend, all of the buses and metro were free in Montreal. We decided to take advantage of the free rides and explore the city.

Friday night it rained very hard, but the weather consequently created a dramatic atmosphere for the On Bodies (my friend Mark's band) show, and a birthday party in a cafe-bar that had a special guest dj.

Yesterday we made it up to Jean Talon market once again, and it was even more impressive now that spring has arrived. The bright colours, frenzied shoppers and copious amounts of delicious looking food are kind of overwhelming. There is too much to choose from in terms of snacks, and of healthy, wonderful stuff to take home for the week ahead. We got black olives stuffed with goat cheese, roma tomatoes and bartlett pears. We also had fresh calamari with tartar sauce, sausages with sauerkraut, and my favourite, a banana kabob covered in dark chocolate (from a fountain) for $1.















And, in between the market and Montreal's largest Value Village, I found some really cool little treasures. The only thing we missed out on yesterday was an auction of items from a recently-renovating general store that hadn't been touched since the '50s. By the end of the weekend, I was too tired to make it up there, but some of the items were said to include toys, jewelery, old medicine in dusty glass bottles, and old posters and magazines. Damn, now I wish I'd gotten off my couch to go see all this stuff. Anyway, I may have found enough treasures for the weekend. I will just have to wait for garage sale season in farm country, when I'm home visiting my family.







Oh, and I forgot to mention that I am finished my first year of grad school!

8 days a week

The Montreal that I have come to know during these long winter months is virtually unrecognizable. As the temperature has risen, residents and tourists alike have inundated the streets, terraces, and open-air bars. Conversations are jubilant, and the drinks are flowing.

I have been avoiding my computer as much as possible, because I have come to hate it. It shuts down spontaneously at least 4 times a day, the internet connection is abysmal, dust is rattling in the fan, and it is processing everything painstakingly slowly. Looks like it needs to go it for a spring check-up. After all, how can I continue to whittle the hours away on other blogs, facebook and makeup sites if my computer itself is not up to snuff? This simply won't do!

During my computer strike, I have been taking advantage of the spring fever that has hit this city.


Thursday: Attending our year-end MA event at a microbrewery/pizza place, stopping for coffee and at the liquor store, before continuing the evening on Mark's balcony and then for dancing in the Village. Watched a terrible cover band (The Ramblers)that we decided had foregone their niche market of mid-life crisis dads to target a fan base of eagle shirt-wearing, aging lesbians.

Friday: Sushi at Takara and raspberry beer at Brutopia while meeting Jennie's new beau, Zach. We were then shown around the office of Zach's friend, who works for a Swedish company and has a hydraulic desk. This little peek made the world of cubicles seem quite attractive.

Saturday: Making a big breakfast for Jennie, Zach and Nyambura of crepes with strawberries and ricotta cheese, then watching a marathon of Pussycat Dolls: The Search for the Next Doll (shame, shame) all afternoon before visiting lots of patios (and drinking red and white sangria) with Jess' brother who was visiting from Winnepeg.


Sunday: Visited the Biodome to see all the cool animals and other exhibits. Checked out the cop film spoof: Hot Fuzz. Timothy Dalton has not aged, let me tell ya.

Yesterday: Woke up from a very vivid superhero dream, wherein I was on the cast of Lost, and kicking serious ass. Was angry all day after realizing it was only a dream. Went to the Cock and Bull to show Jess' brother the glory of arts and crafts night. Almost started a fight with whiteboy beatboxers who took over the stage, when I kept yelling "you're terrible!", Mark screamed "Madonna or nothing, bitches!" and Jess held up a sign that read, simply "You can't rap." Decided to call it a night when they began to group together and point at us.




My sex ed paper is done and submitted, and now, one more assignment until I am finished for the year.

music and purity

It's the beginning of a beautiful Saturday. The buds are starting to green the tips of trees, there's not a hint of a chill in the air, and I...

I am spending 8 hours of the day in a windowless computer lab that I work in. Drat!

Well, hopefully I will be productive, but the internet connection here is so much faster than our hotel-style internet at home, and I believe I will use the increased speed to obsessively search summer concert schedules instead of doing work. But seriously, I have to do work. There are 3 weeks left, and 4 major assignments to hand in before I am finished my first year!

Yesterday I spent the day at a sound studies conference, at which Brian was presenting a paper. The presenters were all fabulous; they discussed everything from the history of community radio in Canada (Brian), to progressive middle-eastern hip hop, to the creation of an audio guide of an old Irish community in Old Montreal. The best part of the conference, however, was the shmoozing part with all the free food and wine. After a few glasses, Brian and I decided to go out for dinner in Mile-End. I was scoping out a microbrewery/gourmet pizza place for the year-end event I am planning. I do believe that Sergent Recruteur with its fresh, fruity artisan beer and indescribably good pizzas, will fit the bill.

We moved on to a cozy live music cafe-turned dance spot at night, Casa del Popolo, to meet some friends, and then, finally to The Main for a late night snack (in my case a pickle). It was quite the day.

I went out and got a few of the CDs I have been meaning to purchase for a while now: Malajube, Arianne Moffatt, and Carla Bruni. Bruni's album is especially dear to me already, and if you listen, you will hear why. I am also loving London/Western/CHRW's own Basia Bulat. I had met Basia a few times at Western: she briefly volunteered at The Gazette and was also briefly in my Foundations in Singing class. I had often heard her radio show and a few of her tunes, and they were very cute and fun. Her new stuff is really special, and certainly worth listening to!

In more academic news, while doing research for my Media and Sexuality class paper on the Bush administration's sex education policies, I unearthed an interesting gem which is now the focus of my paper: the trend of purity balls. Please, read for yourself and let me know what you think of this kind of "party."

Thank goodness Canada has Sue Johanson. She would never stand for state-enforced teaching of misinformation

goodness gracious

You know you've arrived at a crazy party when:

1) Your friends start getting tackled by random girls in metallic underwear

2) Beds and couches are sprinkled with rose petals

3) There is a wall covered in pylons that are filled with candy

4) You spend half the night handing out slices of gourmet cheeses to other guests

5) The walls are plastered in risque photos

6) Your boyfriend ends up in a torn, wine-stained undershirt

7) The host tells you he found grafitti written with butter on his bathroom walls

8) You narrowly missed a whipped cream fight

9) The shooter boy is wearing fishnet thigh-highs

10) The party's theme is "nearly nude"

white night

More

quiet corners over epic quests

Last night at the Buddhi Lounge. A low-lit, orange-hued virtual basement apartment. A sectioned off room insulated with baloons of various sizes. Biere blanche in intricate, German steins and pyramides du chocolat resting on a terrain of blue rock sugar. In the holographic gold bathroom, Dumbo was playing on a flickering screen, while paintbrushes waited in water dishes for impromtu decorating. A dj played serenely in an alcove, while a group of girls chatted over apple-flavoured sheesha in the corner.

"Est-ce que c'est votre premier fois ici?" asked the owner.

"Do you like this place? It's a baby still, only 5 months old!"

This place is a hidden gem. We paid our tabs in an apartment kitchen-turned bar. I gaped at all the jars of tea piled up on the shelves. I want to go back for the ethiopian coffee ceremony. I want more of those chocolate pyramids.

A recent re-thinking of social outings after one confusing night of bar-hopping that ended with this statement:

"Dallas, I made a list of places we should go, and this was not one of them. If this keeps up, I"m never going to find an indie-rock boyfriend!"

This is what happens when hipster culture goes too far. Or when you put a group of twentysomethings together who all have varying bar agendas. Trying to form a cohesive group out of a motley crew of individuals is like insisting that Ned Flanders, Paris Hilton, David Suzuki, Courtney Love and Fran Drescher agree on a definition of "fun." C'est impossible! First of all, when did going out start to be more about choosing places that meet specific criteria than looking for decent music and a few laughs. I guess this is how and when various social backgrounds are brought to bare.

Beyond the obvious scope of Montreal nightlife there are nifty little open mic nights, dives with dirty blues bands, and arts and crafts nights (where beer meets beading). The modest places are the hidden gems. When I go out I like to be surprised and thrilled by the night. If I wanted a predictable evening, I would stay inside, away from the howling winds. I like diversity of patrons over prestige of clientele, unusual beverages over high-priced cocktails, and most certainly, spontaneity over a meticulously-executed night.

In other news, I may or may not have been on French CTV last night. When approached by a francophone journaliste and cameraman yesterday, I froze in front of the lens like a deer in headlights, and ignored the internal voice which yelled "you're not good at French." Somehow I still stumbled to answer a rapidly-delivered question which I believe had something to do with politics. It later occured to me that they may have been asking about racial politics in Quebec, while my bumbling rant discussed only Dion and environmental politics. Oh, the shame, the shame.

As for tonight, I have a date with Opera Montreal. And this time I've finally found some people to go with. The last time I went, it was to Opera Hamilton and I was sandwiched between two hacking and wheezing geriatrics! Tonight is Lakme, and I can't wait to hear the famous flower duet.

My camera will be arriving back from Canon any day now, so pictures to come.