A lot of people whisper the name Montréal because it is such a special place.
 
Before moving to Paris, I was planning on moving to Montréal to live forever. But I told myself I had to see more of the world before settling down. Now, a year later, Paris has been hard on this ole nomad. I took some beatings, and I won’t be moving anywhere else for a while. So I live with this longing for Montréal, and whenever I hear the magic word, Montréal, my head pops up, my eyes grow wide, I smile.

I was in Montréal for the first and, sadly, the only time during the month of February. Snow had fallen and snowflakes were stacked on top of one another, everywhere, even on the tips of the trees. Silence was adhered to in the way a nursery is quiet during naptime. Stillness, or rather calmness, mingled in the air like a protective lioness. Cold was the omnipotent, though benevolent, emperor. We, in our winter armour, were loyal subjects.
 
Montréal reminded me of mother. Not necessarily my mother, but a mother nonetheless.
 
Always slipping (and sometimes falling) on ice. Unable to don sexy high heel shoes or new coiffures. Wet socks. Wet pants. Frozen fingertips. Frozen lips.
 
Mother? Mama?

One night, I braved the weather to slide across the street to the little corner store and pick up a couple of bottles of my beloved Unibroue. I took a Blanche de Chambly and an 1837 and smiled at the clerk, an older gentleman who smiled back. Back at my friend’s place, we had put away a couple of bottles of La Don de Dieu, which he had saved just for me since it only comes out once a year in December, and now I was seeing double – two older gentlemen smiling back at me. I grabbed a Fin du monde and paid the bill then promptly dropped to my knees outside and skied home. It was just across the street, but I was so afraid of falling, slashing some article of clothing open and having some part of me exposed to that temperature. Burrrrrr!
 

Generally speaking, if you put a Louisiana girl in a swamp, she’ll manage. But put her in cold weather and she’s useless.

On my knees and skiing, a couple of kids looked at me and smiled like I was not crazy at all for what I was doing, like it was no big deal, like I knew why I was skiing on my knees and had my reasons. And I did. I arrived safely across the street in my friend’s front yard. Then, wet knees, I called to my friend who lowered down a bucket with a rope tied to it. I sent up the three bottles of Unibroue then made my way up the stairs one flight, step by step, very slowly. Inside, warm and dry, my friend had a glass of 1837 ready for me and we danced around to celebrate my conquest. Generally speaking, if you put a Louisiana girl in a swamp, she’ll manage. But put her in cold weather and she’s useless.
 
Though Montréal is Canada’s second largest city, it doesn’t feel like a big city. People are still nice. The consensus seems to be that causticity and impatience don’t serve any purpose so no one should be mean to anyone. Even when I was down on my knees, clutching three glass bottles of beer, people treated me with respect, as if I knew what I was doing and not like I was a drunk lunatic.
 
Ah, Montréal. Wonderful people. Beautiful parks. Amazing buildings. And…something else, something unexplainable.
 
American architect and visionary, Buckminster Fuller, designed Montréal’s Biosphère for the 1967 World Fair, which is known as Expo '67 today and considered one of the most successful World Fairs ever. Habitat '67, designed by Moshe Safdie, was also in Expo '67. These two structures are still standing and still influencing and impacting thousands of people in the city of Montréal. Safdie and Fuller were both influenced by the French architect, Le Corbusier, who prioritized building and designing "for more harmony". And while Safdie designed Habitat '67 with families in mind (at the age of 23!), Buckminster Fuller’s spheres introduced synergetics to humankind and challenged every theory known to man.
 
The point is that Safdie, Le Corbusier and Fuller were men who thought about harmony, development, community and improving life and their thoughts went into their designs and their designs are still standing in Montréal. This must mean that their ideas are still twisting about and touching the hearts of the people there, including people like me, who pass through, even just once. And when those ideas touch our hearts, something hard to describe is created: something connective, an inside-out feeling, something warm, loving, something...maternal. In Montréal, that feeling is wonderful.