Oh Canada!

I love Canada! Canadians? Not so much, but oh Canada; I'm pretty fond of thee.

The first of July was Canada Day. The Old Port of Montreal threw a massive dance party with fireworks and shenanigans. It blew my mind. It was so much more fun than the lousy Macy's 4th of July fireworks thing on the East River. At the end, the MC told the crowd exactly where and when we could find them again: July 1st, 2010. The energy was over flowing and everyone waved their Canada flags. I was happy.

So I walked over to St. Catherine's and saw the Jazz Festival in full swing. St. Catherine's was closed to automobile traffic and the whole area was one big Jazz promenade with free live performances too. And the music was nothing to scoff at. It was great! The weather was great. Montreal is a great town. But the people here are a little less than great. I was alone. Even though this was Canada's independence day (or something similar) and Montreal has actually become a jazz festival, I couldn't convince anyone to go anywhere with me.

In Brooklyn I'd have any number of kooks willing to run around to all corners of the city for the corniest of fare. Here, Montreal has AMAZING things happening, all within walking distance, and everyone seems to be avoiding me.

But I love you still Canada. Wouldn't mind spending the rest of my life here. All I really need is you.

And I've come all the way from America to swoon over an American lesbian. Have I hit rock bottom? Almost. Almost.

Okay, so a few nights ago, I'm walking home from St. Jean Baptiste Day (a whole 'nother story) all half drunk at 3-something in the morning when I come across not one, but TWO skunks! The first one had it's rear... reared and ready to spray. The second, a couple blocks later, was frightened to bits when it saw me and looked very sketchy. Why are skunks soooooo scared? They've got barely any predators. And they can hardly see. What's there to frighten these crepuscular chickens?

So St. Jean Baptiste Day is like the national fete of Quebec. It's their sort of Independence Day. That day I hit a bar-b-que and a bridge burner party in Mile End. Fun and drink and crazy, crazy happiness were in abundance. I got invited to an "after party" where I drank warm Carlsberg beer too. All this to walk home and scare the living nightlights out of some skunks.

The story, apparently, is that Quebecois celebrate St. Jean Baptist then protest Canada Day by making everyone move. Like some cacaphonous symphony, everyone's lease in Quebec ends on July 1st, so everyone is so busy moving and not so busy feting. AND!!!! Everyone has to bring their own stoves and fridges and washers and dryers into their new abodes. CRAZY! I am crazy about this town... and this one terribly cool gal who likes other gals. Help me.