When I finished my community college degree in 2017, I had some money saved from what I had worked. I didn’t know what university I would transfer to, or what career path I’d follow, but I knew I had the whole summer ahead of me. I don’t know if it was destiny or coincidence, but by that time, I had one of my best friends living abroad in Canada. Before I figured out what to do about my formal education, I decided to spend my savings on traveling to Canada. I did as any other responsible adult would have done; to spend it all traveling (or maybe not), but now that I look back, I know it was the right decision.
Traveling alone and covering all my expenses indeed gave me certain independence, but it was the traveling itself that gave me the greatest freedom. To roam Montreal’s streets and be shaken by its indomitable wind was exactly what I needed to clear my mind. “Bonjour, Hi!” I heard every time I walked in a store, a restaurant, a bar… The linguistic assimilation of the two languages in Montreal’s population never ceased to impress me.
The hike to the Chalet du Mont-Royal is a must when visiting Montreal. I can’t remember how long the hike was, but my friend suggested that we needed to take the long way in order to enjoy the trip. The hike wasn’t a regular adventure – we could walk slowly and talk freely while we were surrounded by trees as we greeted runners in the trails… And to catch our breath, we had this view.
I’d title this picture “La dolce far niente.” One of the greatest experiences of the trip was ditching the planner, the schedules, the daily worries of work and the due dates of college… I simply told my friend “Here, let’s lay down here. Look at the trees, look at the sky. Don’t talk, don’t read, don’t think… don’t do anything – and enjoy it.”
“Au Revoir!” she said closing the door behind her in a rush. With books in one hand, a coat hanging on her arm, and the tingling keys in the other hand, she came down the stairs with little jumps. Her curly hair danced on her shoulders as she descended. She then emptied her hands in the backpack and took off on her bike.
I thought the scene came from a movie or perhaps a book. Can you see it? A flash of a busy life rushed in front of me as I walked with that distinctive carefree attitude of a tourist. My only thought was that the architecture of the town houses with a short staircase was charming.
The Notre-Dame Basilica of Montreal holds so much more than history and religion… it has a majestic architecture that takes your breath away.
Part of the experience included a weekend trip to New York. A weekend in The City that Never Sleeps was enough for me to realize the euphoria, the talent and the wonders of such a busy place. We explored the City when Trump had been in office for a couple months – and I could feel the anxiety in the atmosphere. But the Big Apple is magic enough to immerse you into its tall buildings and busy life regardless – and it kept me in constant movement, where the only grasp of time was dictated by the hands of a watch…
I don’t consider myself a good drawer, but that day I couldn’t think of any words to print in my travel journal. I’ve heard that the Statue of Liberty is the only place where liberty in the United States exists… I can’t help but chuckle every time that I hear this nonsense. Anything that I could say about this place would be cliché – but visiting her will always remain an essential part of the New York experience.
The Chelsea Market hides underneath a clear blue sky. As I stand on the bridge, New York fills my ears with car honks, my nose with urban food, and my mind with endless thoughts.
As a devoted reader, the greatest spot that I found in the whole market was a bookstore that allowed readers to write book reviews.
I can’t remember where I took this. Perhaps a remote place in New York, about a corner away from the city life.
We spent the whole afternoon at the Rockefeller Center walking around the rooftop in a sea of people, unable to process the immensity of the city… or maybe it was also the vertigo that inhibited our thinking process, because no words could describe what we felt up there. Also, the grey sunset of that day painted each picture with different colors.
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