In a previous entry, I mentioned that Chris and I took a road trip to Montreal.  We did, our little passports in tow.  The whole time.  'Cause losing them in Canada would have sucked major ass.


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One of my favorite parts of our journey to Montreal was the Canadian customs/check-in point.  A bald officer who resembled the love child of Mr. Clean and Motorcycle Dude examined our passports, typed stuff into a computer and warmly welcomed us to land that he loves:

"What are you doing in Canada?"

"Vacationing," one of us beamingly replied.

"Where are you staying?"

"Au Git'Ann, a bed and breakfast in Montreal."

"Where are you coming from?"

"New Jersey."

"What's your address?"

"_______________   __________, NJ                ."

"What do you do for a living?" he asked Chris.

"I help people out of debt."

"What do you do?" he said, turning to me with a smile.

Fuck.  What did I do?  What did I do?  Think fast.

"Writer.  I write." 

I did lots of things.  But I spent most of my time writing.  And I had to pick something.  Couldn't give a Customs officer my life story with a line of vehicles behind us.

"What do you write about?" he asked.

"Everything."

"Everything, ah?" 

Officer Mr.Clean/Motorcycle Dude gave me a flirty look!

"Any weapons in the car?" he continued.

"No," I said.  "Just me."

He didn't hear the "just me" part.

"Alright.  Go ahead," he said. 

"Thank you!"

"Oh, sure," Chris said, sarcastically.  "He asks you for details about what you do..."

"My charm got us out of there, quickly, though!"*

"Good point."


        


We spent four days in the architecturally lovely Montreal, a city with a perfect blend of the French and English languages. 


                                                     



                               



                                                          



      


Thank insert favorite deity here for that blend.  I speak not an ounce of French and only understood a hint of what French speakers were saying because of my fluency in Spanish and "moderate fluency" in Italian.  




                                                                Fancy Celery Salad





         



                              Best Cheesecake Ever


 The food was great.



                                


And Au Git'Ann, our Bed...


                                                          
                                              
                                       Homemade Chocolate Bread Pudding, Mini Muffins and Cinnamon/Sugar Cookies      



                                       Fresh Preserves



                                             Le Appley Incredibleness


... and Breakfast of choice, was located just one street away from the metro, a ten minute walk away from historic "Old Town" and square in the middle of sights.  We paid the same rate that the Econo Lodge or Super 8 charges per night for our cozy room**.



                  
                                                                                    Peaceful View From Terrace


Ah, spending conservatively is super.


*Do not attempt to charm or humor Customs officers.  Travel guidebooks and websites warn that you should not fuck around with these uniformed folks.  Unless, of course, some of you like the idea of being stuck in Customs.  In Canada.

**At time of reservation.  Econo Lodge and Super 8 have since lowered their prices a bit.  Well, in New Jersey at least-- not so much in New York.  In New York, the two hotel chains charge nearly half a nipple or a nut for a room.