Wes@Play - 2006 Vacation in Montreal - Le Village, Fireworks, High School French

Le Premiere Nuit

I decided to visit Montreal for three reasons. One, it has an international fireworks festival every year. Two, I’d get to try using my French for the first time. And, three, French-Canadian men are the sexiest men on earth. I should mention that my opinion was definitely colored by perhaps my only decent sexual experience was with a Quebecois a decade ago.

L’aeroport
I slept for most of my flight from San Jose, and I arrived on time at the airy international terminal of Montreal airport, which I think has the most comfy seating of any airport: lots of leather row seating and actual armchairs.

The taxi rate from the airport is a flat rate of $35, going or coming. Cabs are usually more like personal cars, and not painted yellow or some common color. Both drivers I had were friendly, fast, and understood my college French.

The French Thing
I took two semesters of high school French and two semesters of college-level French. That means I can hold a conversation with most 3rd graders.

I think the really important thing when visiting any country is to make an attempt at learning the local language. I’d say that 90% of the people I came in contact with spoke English about as well as I spoke French, and of those half were fluent in both languages. In businesses, most bartenders, waiters, clerks, etc. speak fluent English. Older people only spoke French.

The most important things to learn, in order of importance:

• pleasantries
• getting directions
• ordering food
• hotel words and phrases

I was amazed that I could hold held hour-long conversations every night I was there with locals, switching between English and French as needed. Of course, I'm sure I still spoke like a low grade moron, but they were sooo patient with me.

I arrived at my hotel around 7 p.m., so I took a nap in my room at the Hotel Lord Berri. There were at least four large festival happening the weekend I visited: the Grand Prix of Montreal, St. Jean Baptiste Day, a poker tournament, and the Festival de les Feu Artifice. I ended up spending $275/night, which was about the lowest hotel fair in Montreal proper. My room was serviceable and clean, and the youngish hotel staff was friendly and polite.

Le Village
Le Village is Montreal’s equivalent of the Castro or Christopher St. It stretches for about 1.5 miles down Oest Ste. Catherine Ave. There are clubs, strip clubs, sex clubs. Nice restaurants, dive restaurants, and chain restaurants. Most of the shops cater to tourists and are priced thusly. Le Village is surrounded by residential streets with neat rows of townhouses.

If you’re wondering, if you start down Ste. Catherine Ave. eastward, it’s mostly lined with straight strip clubs for a couple of blocks. The transformation to a “gay” district is fairly recent, and I think they’re still sorting out exactly what that will mean.

If you go in summer, you’ll notice an unusual number of bums and homeless, old and young, Canadian and American. They’re polite and easy to ignore. Most are 20-something slackers.

After a short rest, I zipped on my chaps and headed to The Stud, which is sort of a leather bar except sans le cuir. It’s not large and the ceilings are low, but there are several separate rooms and maybe 7-8 one-man bars sprinkled throughout. There are 3 pool tables, and two small dance floors. According to the locals, the place is busy 7 days a week; I can attest to Friday-Sunday.

Cocktails will cost you $4.50 for a plastic Dixie cup of Jack Daniels. I’m not joking about the Dixie cup. Most people drink du biere ou de l’eau which is a better deal. The bartenders were all courteous, most are amazingly sexy, and all were friendly.

Smoker’s Notes
For some reason, they don’t have matches at the bars. DO NOT lose your matches. They changed the law two months ago so you can’t smoke in the bar proper, but many places allow you to leave your drinks on a platform up front so you can step out to the sidewalk.

Cigarettes are incredibly expensive in Canada. Yes, they come with morbidly funny warning messages on them, but it’s not worth $9 for exactly what you’d get in California for $3.50.

The really nice thing is that Montreal is mostly free of flying insects in the summer, so doors are left wide open to catch the slight breeze. The weather was humid when I visited, similar to Georgia or Chicago. The temperature was a perfect 25 celsius, sunny with a few clouds, and there was always a cool breeze blowing. Lovely.

There are two dancefloors. One upstairs, one downstairs. There must be 7-8 small bars in the club, so there’s no waiting. I like that.

I met un gentilhomme vieux, Alain, qui me veuxent parler outside on the small deck out front. He got me a book de les allumettes, so I was eternally grateful. He said I should go to the l’Aigle Noir tomorrow for le cuir demain.

Asians & Other Ethnicities
Being Japanese and having a full beard gets me stares even in California, so I wasn’t surprised when it had the same reaction. Overall, the racial mix runs the gamut. Most of the black people I met or spoke with were from the Caribbean.

Le Dernier Jour

I woke up at noon (9 pacific) because there was a Native American tribal blessing of some kind going on for the Quebec National Day and went for a walk. I almost immediately ran into Alain sur son moto, a large touring bike. He remembered me and we said hello.

Eating
I felt like some Chinese food, so I decided to try the Quartier Chinoise, mais I made a wrong turn and ended up in a festival for poker players in a part of town that had a sort of college town feel—a pedestrian mall with lots of restaurants, but all of the appeal of a stripclub.

I wandered to the right and ended up in the Quartier Latin which is very similar to some parts of Washington DC. It’s packed with restaurants and bars. I mean packed. I wanted some iced coffee (apparently a new concept) and a sandwich, so I stopped at a Starbuck-like café. That cost $11.

The weather is fair but humid, which I’m not used to, and when I returned to the hotel my face was flushed and puffy. I had to take a break and lay down for awhile.

I went back to The Stud and decided to try playing pool with the locals. I met a Quebecois man from Boston whose family (including his two kids) lived in Montreal. He was very nice but kept speaking English to me. I played horribly, probably the worst game since I was a kid…but I did draw a crowd. I like that. The guy from Boston asked if I was coming back for the Gay Games, then asked if I was part Latino. That pretty much ended that conversation.

I left The Stud at around 2, which is about the time everyone from the Black Eagle goes to The Stud, or at least the tourists do. The Aigle Noir was practically empty. It’s a fairly compact bar, not unlike the Eagle in Seattle where there are multiple levels with a large space in the middle. There are 3-4 bars, one per level. Drinks were better than at The Stud but the evil measuring system is spreading.

I thought about going to the other clubs, but I didn’t see the point. There are a lot of college age Americans in the neighborhood and the last thing I want is to be around them.

I met two men who noticed my chaps. This wasn’t hard since there were only 10 people in the bar. They spoke mostly French which was great. I told them I was from California, which was a big deal, then I told them I liked to tie people up which made them giggle. Giggle.

They said that they and their friends were going to Parking, which is a big gay dance club. There were six of them, and we all wandered down about four blocks to Parking, the basement of which is free to get into after a certain hour, I think. There’s a tiny dancefloor, a pool table, and a sex room which sits behind a barricade of sorts. I was fairly wasted by this point, so I left.

I woke up late again, then went exploring south towards downtown. Le metro costs $2.50 and I believe you can transfer to another mode de transportation via the little ticket machines a tout sortie marked “conversation”. I never figured that out. The subway system is fairly clean but it varies by station.

Montreal’s Chinatown is like most Chinatowns, full of interesting shops and places to eat, most of which appear to be owned by Vietnamese-Chinese now judging from the names on the signs. I settled on a pho place for lunch, which was the most reasonable meal I had at $8.25 for egg cake, pork shreds, and a grilled porkchop. The egg cake and shredded pork were delicious, but they’re very skimpy on the herbs.

Then I wandered off to a large church, then over to the south through a business district in the old part of town which has narrow cobblestone streets. I hopped back on the Metro and got completely lost by somehow missing my station. I ended up about two stops too far at Mont-Royal, and decided to wander. Mont-Royal has more tiny boutiques, tons of restaurants, and seems livelier than the other parts of town. It’s in a section of town called The Plateau. The walk back was not fun, even though it was mostly downhill. It took two hours and my feet were aching, but I did get to see a huge section of town.

La Ronde
I headed out to La Ronde, which is on ile Ste Catherine in the middle of the river. The Berri-UQAM station connectent a touts lignes, so it’s just one train stop away. The walk from the Metro station is about 1.5 miles, so if you don’t feel up to it (the path passes by the skeleton of the Biosphere from Expo ‘67 and a pretty rose garden) take the bus or a taxi.

La Ronde is small by amusement park standards but there are three good coasters. Le Monstre is okay, but is mostly about turns; the first drop is ruined by a turn. About 3 secs of airtime. It’s the wooden coaster but quite smooth. The far better choice is the Gigantique or something like that, which you should definitely hold your feet in the air for the first few minutes at least. The first drop is killer. And sit in the back. Fantastic. Lines were about 20 mins for each.

The firework show was by Italy. The team rode out on a boat to the floating stage, and almost fell off when they cut the engine. There was a short ceremony, and then a 15 minute pause. The fireworks were either okay or kickass, which is to say they were amazing amazing, either from sheer volume or through technique. I’ve never seen one type which rises incredibly slowly while spinning. Unfortunately, la grande finale was ruined by a computer malfunction. They set off a blitz at the end but it wasn’t timed or artistic, sort of like blowing up the stage because the play had failed.

The ride back to the hotel took an hour, mostly because of the walk back to the station avec milles des gens. Everything was incredibly organized, and once on the train it was 15 to the hotel. No pushing, no shoving, very orderly.

I went to The Stud again to see if anyone was playing pool. They weren’t. Saw a couple of twins of people in San Jose, but mostly focused on one guy in a tight black t-shirt, a sexy moustache, and a very French nose. Anyway, I finally noticed which arm his leather band was on and lost interest. If I’m going to have sex tonight, then I want some French Canadian dick inside of me, not loose, faintly fuzzy, vanilla butthole.

There was another couple I was pursuing (a nondescript bear and an amazing cowboy with a thick moustache), but one of them figured it out and got pissed off; the cowboy thought it was funny. After a few drinks of my second JD, I was feeling no pain, but also faintly sick, so I left and went to the McDonald’s across the street for Poulet McCroquettes. Then stopped by a late night sandwich shop for a Cuban sandwich and some tarts. I must have looked pretty bad because the very friendly and cute clerk asked if I wanted some milk. Mon dieu!

Lundi

I couldn’t sleep for some reason so I was a bit groggy this afternoon. After checking out, I went to Geisha Sushi, which despite the horrible name and a Chinese-Vietnamese management, was actually pretty good and a bargain $17.75 for a large bento lunch of salmon teriyaki (scrape off the “teriyaki” glaze if you can), two pieces of sushi, two pieces of sashimi, tempura, rice, soup, salad, and a cookie.

So ends my premiere trip a Montreal. Quelle salade.

Cleveland

I arrived a Cleveland airport following a light shower, which I thought was causing the humidity. I was wrong; it’s always like this.

The city itself is pretty impressive at first glance. I’d always thought of Cleveland as a backwater, but it’s obvious that it has been a center of commerce for decades. The skyline is magnificent, and the downtown area is spotless if empty. The city is trying very hard to change the image of the area apparently, and we were only hit up for cash twice.

The Hyatt Regency in downtown Cleveland is in a remodeled office building with an enormous glass-covered arcade running down the center. Our room was on the 7th floor of an adjoining building because I like high floors. The rooms were very spacious and boringly decorated. The only real flaw was that the window glass was filthy, but that may have been from a big storm that barreled through a few nights before.

We asked the concierge what the best restaurant was downtown for meat and he recommended Hyde Park. The restaurant is on the first floor of a sexy deco bank building, although the restaurant is fairly nondescript inside. It is, however, dark like a restaurant should be. We started with carpaccio and a “Greek” salad. The portions are enormous; easily the size of a small entrée. For the main course, Scott had a New York strip and I had Steak Kovar, which was a filet mignon covered with two lobster chunks, wild mushrooms, béarnaise, and a pool of bordelaise below. Iove anything bordelaise. The coffee was excellent, as were the liqueur soaked berries for dessert. Dinner for two was a bargain at under $100.

We went looking for the Leather Stallion, which is perhaps two miles east of downtown. Only the back bar was being used, although I doubt I would have stayed in the front bar because of an odd mildew smell inside. The backyard patio is enormous with ivy covered walls and a small open air bar way in the back. Bars close at 2:30 in Ohio, and yes you can smoke in them.

We learned from a local about some of the rides at Cedar Point, where we were going the following morning. There are many “strategies” on how to have the best experience at Cedar Point, but in general you should try to go on a weekday.

Cedar Point
Cedar Point is rollercoaster lover’s dream. The three rides I say not to miss are Drag Speed Racer (sit in the front), Wicked Twister (sit in the far front or far back), and Millenium XL (sit in the back). Food is expensive and varies widely in quality. The home-cut fries are excellent though, almost completely grease-free.

Toledo

Toledo is basically Sacramento in 1980. It’s got a lot of history, but it pales in comparison to Cleveland which is only about 90 minutes away.

The Wyndham sits on the Maumee River a block or so from the lovely arched MLK bridge. This hotel is not done justice on the Web. It’s far nicer than its own publicity photos. Rooms are small, but pleasantly decorated, and toiletries are first rate (Golden Door). Actually, all of the hotels have bad publicity photos.

The night we arrived the chief of police had resigned because he didn’t like what the mayor was saying about his control of gangs. I mention this because while searching for gay bars, we saw two separate police arrests on the same block, which unfortunately was the same block we were heading down.

The Crowbar is the leather/levi bar, but like Renegades that just means that it isn’t a dance bar or drag bar. The place looks very grungy on the inside: a tiny dance floor upfront, a decent pool table in back (50 cents), but open the door to the backyard and it’s like night and day. They must have just added a second bar to the back with brand new patio furniture that looks like a beach resort. Well, at night at least.

Caesars, a fairly large drag bar and one of our destinations. Caesar’s in nice in a low budget way. You can tell they stretched their dollars, and the result is comfortable if not fancy. The pool table is decent with good cues.

We were told that the other Levi/Leather bar which was next door had shut down relatively recently because the manager died.

For the final day, we drove around Scott’s old neighborhood north of the city in Michigan, so I saw the environment that formed him from age 1-13. It’s sort of a typical Midwestern suburb. Medium sized nondescript houses on 1-2 acre lots next to a wooded area. The woods were full of mature trees, wildflowers, and poison ivy, which I’d never seen before. The woods are full of aggressive mosquitos, so bring some repellant. I will say that the one thing I learned about Scott this weekend, is that his conservative nature rears its ugly head more often than I think is healthy. He acts like an old man, and frankly he starting to look like one as well.