Montreal “City of a hundred Bell Towers”

I drag my eyes away from the Jade sculpture at Vancouver International and I head towards security..

I gaze outside the window-
wanting to say goodbye
But dark mountains they roll under
They stay with me for awhile
And Mt. Baker lords it over
Keeping watch till sunlight lowers..

It is calming to have Rocky Mountains chaperon me for a while. My reverie is gently broken into by a voice “Marinella – something special.. because I like you”. I play along pretending that my on-flight meal wasn’t paid for in advance!
My Air Canada flight makes a smooth landing at Trudeau International. It is past mid-night as we walk out of the arrival lounge onto the street in Canada’s Cultural capital: Montreal; originally known as ‘Ville Marie’. It is different from Vancouver where nature fills in the scene scape; the urban landscape shows off a mixed heritage of architecture. It all depends on where you are – and one can engage in a spot to spot analysis.

It is a crisp summer morning and we are driven up the slope of Mount Royal; soon we step out onto the paved path and make our way towards the Blessed steps that lead one to the largest church in Canada: Saint Joseph’s Oratory that sits on a promontory overlooking Downtown Montreal. Pilgrims filled with hope, climb their way up the middle set of a hundred steps literally on their knees. They come here to seek intercession through the kind heart of St. Joseph –the Patron saint of Canada. The giant copper dome – second largest in the world after St. Peter’s in Rome, majestically occupies the sky scape. Styled in period Italian Renaissance, the Basilica boasts of a collection of sculptures and breathtaking stained glass panes and an impressive pipe organ. We spend time at the sacred museum and pay reverence to the embalmed heart of Blessed Bro. André: who envisioned the dream that led to the realization of the Oratory. We walk through the door of an unusual Museum - of Cribs from around the world. At the little souvenir shop we browse through and eventually pick up some Holy oil, trinkets and a couple of mother-of-pearl rosaries. We then step onto the terrace and look out onto the spectacular view of the city. Towards the end of our pilgrimage, we pay homage at the shrine of Bro. André and soon we walk away knowing that St. Joseph will be watching over us.

It is early evening and we exit the Metro; our heels click on cobbled streets past some old world architecture; pretty lamps adorn the streets. Old Montreal is charming; the aura is artsy and sort of liberated. There is a mixed choice of out door cafes and formal restaurants, some chic Boutiques and Art Galleries.
We then start to make our way towards the Quays of Old Montreal, where the St. Lawrence meets the city. We amble around Place Jacques Cartier: a Plaza so busy with a Chinese Street Circus, there! a juggler act, caricature artists you can pose for and even get your portrait in a frame. We stroll towards Champ de Mars a park in front of City Hall. On the way we check an ancient sailing yacht that is visiting one of the Quays. Soon we are heading towards the destination of our outing – the Clocktower Quay which offers a spectacular view of the International Pyromusical competition – the annual Le Mondial Fireworks Festival. We are lucky we get the grand view at the railings. We get to watch Portugal perform and she does in splendorous pyrotechnical bursts: luminous colors splashing like from a paintbrush onto a midnight blue canvas with the Clocktower and Jacques Cartier Bridge spanning the Lawrence adding to the milieu. We walk away when it is over with a satisfaction that cultural extravagance offers to the spirit.

Next morning we are back in Old Montreal and I can see why it is “the city of a hundred bell towers”. We are in the Cathedral of Mary Queen of the World – the seat of the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Montreal, in Gothic style. And once inside what occupies your eye frame are Bernouli’s Columns that canopy the main alter; a replica of the ones in Rome.
Horses and buggies
Calèches all neat
Clip clop down
Old cobbled streets
We are dropped off right in front of Basilique Notre Dame the crown jewels of Montreal’s religious heritage. A neo Gothic structure of most dramatic architecture. We pay an entrance fee and walk through the doorway. The interior is breathtaking: from the exquisite sapphire colored ceiling with golden stars, the stained glass windows and rich furnishings to the sanctuary in a “polychrome of azures, blues, purple, reds, gold and silver”. We spend a while in prayer and as we turn to leave, our eyes are drawn upwards to the impressive Casavant Frères pipe organ, from where glorious sacred music begged us to stay.. we had to pull ourselves away from this beauteous consecrated space, blessing ourselves with holy water from the marble font at the doorway.
We are on cobbled streets again and make our way towards a subway cafe, pick our favorite muffin – mine is always a blueberry and sit down to leisurely sip our frothy cappuccinos.
We walk up to the sunlit street and then into Saint Patrick’s Basilica where one can’t miss the Irish influence. The wooden pulpit holds our eye; we sit awhile in reverence…me and my Aunt Dolores.

It’s a cloudy morning, the streets are wet from a light shower; you can smell the freshness of tree bark. My last day in the city and we take the Metro into Downtown Montreal.. now steel and glass towers, now period church steeples. There are stylish resto-bars or hardy ethnic cafes. The culinary landscape is abundantly diverse and is sure to gratify your gastronomic preferences. We take our time making up our minds; in the meanwhile there is shopping, shopping and more shopping. The rue Sainte Catherine is the heart of street shopping, from where one can come away with some good bargains especially on shoes. We pick up a half dozen Tees at one of the summer sales at Simons. Then we grab a light lunch at an Italian café and continue our hike through several malls.
Late evening.. and I am driven past the Old Cemetery and some gorgeous homes in fancy brickwork and even cut-glass panes, to the lookout on top of Mount Royal. We stand and gaze out at the fairy lights dressing downtown Montreal. What a lovely farewell to a marvelous culture trip to Ville Marie. We end it with fine dining at Lincoln’s and Carmen’s – superlative Cajun Salmon with a bowl of nutty pumpkin on the side and home styled rice.
My classic summer rendezvous with Montreal will stay with me forever.

Saint–Sauveur: Cradled in the Laurentians

From the city of Sacred Steeples we take the highway north towards Quebec’s Laurentians, a professed hippie haven. We could tell by the change in landscape that we were soon traversing foothills of Canada’s eastern range. It is summer and so we have the bluest of skies. Attractive country side: forests in green, while ski-runs marked the slopes.
Soon we drive into one of the prettiest of villages: Saint-Sauveur. She sits daintily, embraced by the Laurentides. European styled, (mostly French colonial) old character buildings, almost like toy houses; one wouldn’t be surprised to run into Hansel and Gretel! A picture perfect village, the best way to get around is to park your vehicle and stroll along footpaths that line the streets.
Now- we are standing in front of a stairway that leads to a pretty church. Somehow the moment is unforgettable: the crisp sunshine brings out the sky blue and our eyes look up to the stone chapel; the lovely bride and her groom and a host of family and friends crowd up the doorway…
I feel a cold ‘something’ on my hand, I look down to see a mighty great Dane nudging me for a head-rub. Now there are two of them! We are now a colorful gathering, all intent attention on the little church; Harley Babes, (their mean-gear parked not too far away) look up and get mushy too.
We continue down the street- a Tea House here, an Ice-Cream Parlor there; perceptibly a delightful selection of restaurants. We take pictures of a little house that is perpetually over dressed for Christmas! If you are crazy about wheels, you can eyeball a range of Hot machines showing off on narrow streets.
We walk through the doorway of the Ice cream parlor and soon exit holding old fashioned cones doubly filled with scoops of hand made delight. We sit out and watch the world go by..
Lazily we stroll down the main street past quaint inns while colorful hanging flower baskets adorn pretty doorways; past a Mohawk in traditional attire selling some priceless native ware: drawstring rabbit skin pouches, necklaced shell, a kangarookin shirt, deerskin leggings, ankle wrap moccasins.. a rolled up deerskin knack pack- the likes of which I last saw in ‘McKenna’s Gold’!
I love it here and I am told in winter it morphs into a swanky ski resort. What I find attractive is its proximity to Montreal: open, tolerant, artsy counter culture city engaged
to these quaint little towns on her periphery.
On our way back we take a picturesque detour past Lac-des-Seize-Iles. Take a rest stop at the charming jetty with little boats moored till each may be let loose to ferry its owner across blue lake waters to homes on little islands. This is something to be delirious about: that is if you own one of the swank island homes!
The surrounding foothills of the Laurentians have their own attractions. Scattered log cabins abound and some can be rented for a season. Summers are spent hiking, cycling, boating, fishing.. Walking along a path we come to pristine meadow and stop by an abandoned tepee; a little way beyond, the grassy banks dip into the bluest of lake waters.
What a picture…

Summer in Vancouver

As my BA flight got ready to land us down at Vancouver International I got to momentarily view the dark mountains of B.C. A smooth touch down and a while later moving down escalators, I was pleasantly confronted by a shoal of fish whooshing down towards me as if I were in deep-ocean! Gliding downwards enchanted with the art installations: culturally depicting their First Nation’s People symbols and ethos, I feel encompassed by an ethereal aura….. that is until I join the very real Q at Immigration and Customs.

Being driven to my place of residence for the next eight days, what is calming are the trees: the ever-present Maple and different type of fir, rooted in abundance; ebony squirrels cavorting around an inquisitive starling, whilst a raven catwalks on green grass amongst the sprays of wild flower. A pretty treat for your senses are the road islands landscaped with lush summer flowering, as also are the baskets of flowers hanging from street lamp-posts.

From the location that is Richmond – Vancouver, I venture down a boardwalk by the Fraser river; an invigorating morning stroll past trumpeting swans and a family of loons. This morning, I tour the old heritage building that is the Gulf of Georgia Cannery. Its six o’clock in the evening and I take to the boardwalk again; this time with an old friend and we are soon in a quaint little fishing village – Steveston by the Fraser river. We pass by riverside cafes, fresh seafood markets, fishing boats moored at the wharf where you can also book yourself on a whale-watching trip; the waters around Vancouver are visited by Orca pods. We shop at little curio shops, take a picture of the little Post-Office and stroll back to Pajo’s at the wharf; an on the water eatery among the moored boats. We choose everyone’s favorite: Fish ‘n’ Chips and mushy peas. It’s a clear day and we stare at Mt. Baker on the distant horizon, that would be in the state of Washington, U.S.A.. Walking away from the village we encounter a convoy of Bikers; could they be a platoon of Hell’s Angels who were converging at Langley, B.C. for a special anniversary? I get a picture of my friend with one of them, a cool photo-frame for keeps. We sip at our after dinner coffee, walking back past cherry trees with little dots of red – the remnants of the season. A few hours after sunrise and we are driving down to Lynn Canyon Park; since I was too chicken, I chose to do the Baby Brother of Capilano Suspension Bridge: at fifty meters high it felt like Capilano anyway! – over the rush of water below.

We drive down to Stanley Park: the green jewel of Vancouver; a rainforest of towering ancient red cedar and Douglas fir. Jutting out into the ocean, the park lay vulnerable to a windstorm in December of 2006, that knocked down thousands of precious trees like matchsticks. Stopped at the impressive and famous Hollow Tree and took snapshots at Prospect Point; no we didn’t feed the raucous raccoons ! At Brockton we stared at tall Totem Poles that mesmerized us back in time. At the gift shop, picked up a couple of hand crafted miniatures and a little jade bear on amethyst, the semi precious rocks of B.C. Best way to end your trip at Stanley Park is a horse drawn carriage ride along Park Drive.

Shorts/capris and tees and smart sandals on your feet, a hat shielding you from the very crisp sun are just the type of day-wear that one needs in summer; Jeans and blouse tops should do for the evenings. If you are going to be walking a lot then a comfortable pair of shoes should ease you through. A lite-jacket for early morning strolls when there is a nip in the air.

Shopping in Vancouver is easy; the stores/malls have all that you want: shoes? jeans? blouses/Tees? perfumes/cosmetics? evening wear? Well the only important factor that you have to boldly deal with, is the weight of your luggage! Summer fruit is in abundance; the biggest red and cream-colored cherries, strawberries, raspberries, blue berries, cranberries, berries, berries and more, that you can fruitfully gorge on. You have a global choice when it comes to deciding on food; there are specialty and ethnic restaurants/bistros/cafes and of course the usual fast food stops.

Some of the items that can be bought at the duty-free shops at Vancouver International: hand-crafted by the First Nation’s People – jewelry: dream-catchers, trinkets made with inlay of turquoise/jade/amethyst; hand crafted miniature totem poles, art cards and Tees with Native Indian symbols etc.

If you need to catch a bite, there is a food court: hot meals or fast foods and beverages; or you can pick up fresh salads and boxes of cubed fruit.

Before walking through security, go feast your eyes on the tall Jade sculpture…….

Marinella Proença

Vancouver, B.C. has a soul as pure as her Mountains

On eagle’s wings she soars past Heaven’s domain. ©

Milestones of Victoria, (British Columbia)

Another day before I fly on to Montreal, Quebec. We take the early BC Ferry from Tsawwassen Terminal, Vancouver, a one and a half hour journey pass some very beautiful scenes of little islands and private homes by the water, all with their own little bobbing boats moored at private jetties; then on to a bus ride to the city of gardens and Capital of British Columbia: Victoria. We dock at Schwartz Bay on Vancouver Island on the Pacific side and take the Big Bus tour that drives through picturesque countryside of Sydney, B.C., north of Victoria. A one and a half hour ride past some very beautiful landscape of farmland and cattle; even horses in corrals and preserved heritage homes and we are in downtown Victoria. We jaunt towards Victoria’s Inner Harbour area; walked passed well preserved heritage buildings/homes, where streets are decorated with hanging flower baskets on English styled lamp-posts. We pass by the Fairmont Empress Hotel which also houses the Miniatures’ Museum. We have time to just have a quick peek at few of the exhibits and they are fascinating. Soon we are at the Inner Harbour, the hub of Victoria. The Marina makes a pretty picture with sail boats and whale-watching tour boats, a plaza where hawkers sell fast food and at artisan stalls, hippies sell their paintings; either the work itself or prints. Some sell hand crafted oak curios like whales, eagles and the maple leaf and even jewelry. There are portrait artists and cartoonists who you can pose for: something special to carry back home. And there are buskers doing their thing: blue grass or country on the fiddle or usually a one-man-band. Since we have to be back in Vancouver to party the night, we choose to have lunch at the hip and happening Milestones, a grill bar looking over the marina and skip the choice of High Tea at the Empress. When it is only a day trip, one has to choose and pick from various attractions available to the visitor in Victoria. Done with lunch, we walk to the other end, towards the Legislative Buildings - the architecture is typically English. We take the short staircase from the harbour to the street above and we are pleasantly confronted with a father/daughter team of street performers; Dad in kilt playing the bagpipe and his teenage daughter also dressed traditionally doing the Scottish Highland dance, a little battered suitcase has a flyer propped up that said ‘‘towards university fees’’. We toss our change in and look around – it’s a beautiful view of the Inner Harbour back down there--- and the imposing buildings around us, flower baskets hanging on lamp-posts…everything delightfully English. It’s time to catch the Big Bus and head towards Schwartz Bay to embark on the journey back to Vancouver. The Ivory Gulls are calling, the Ferry sets sail…..©

Marinella Proença

Whistler, British Columbia 'Bear sighting at Column 13'

From Vancouver it was a long drive past river and mountains dusted with snow, a bald eagle spanning on casual winds; and for a moment time stood still – I look at eagle and dark mountain and I am transported amidst a People who lived in complete reverence to their awesome landscape.

We curve into a highway rest-stop at Squamish; a short walk from the car-park to your regular Tim Hortens or McDonalds or Taco Bell…On the road again and soon we reach the village of Whistler – ski resort in winter (one of the venues for the coming Winter Olympics 2010), now busy with summer’s holiday vagabonds. A village with cobblestoned pathways, restaurants and coffee houses, summer activities are numerous; the ski-runs are now green, though the peaks are still holding white. We take a gondola up to the peak; on the way we watch below, extreme adventure cyclists riding down the runs on their hot mountain bikes, while some of them take the ski lift up challenging heights to eventually daredevil down. We stop at the first gondola port and I read on a little board the chalked-out words “bear sighting at column 13”! As we ascended counting columns, No bear at “13”. Soon we were up and the kid in us enjoyed the snow; noticed how it was slowly melting to form these little droplets that run into trickles, eventually into streams and all this melting is what feeds the water bodies; their faithful presence that very much gives Vancouver her beauty. Our digitals go silently clicking the post-card pictures around and the beauty of Mt. Whistler, its top dressed in sheets of snow against dark surface of rock. People of all ages and sizes, girls and boys enjoying whamming snowballs at each other; just having a mountain of fun. We soon embarked on the descent in the enclosed gondola intently counting pillars; came to “13” no bear in sight?----pass “13” and there he is - the Big Brown Bear sauntering on green meadow. Was so relieved I was up high in a gondola gently sliding down to base station. Whew! Imposing peak and exciting bear-sighting.

Back in Vancouver and we drive down to Stanley Park: the green jewel of Vancouver; a rainforest of towering ancient red cedar and Douglas fir. Jutting out into the ocean, the park lay vulnerable to a windstorm in December of 2006, that knocked down thousands of precious trees like matchsticks. Stopped at the impressive and famous Hollow Tree and took snapshots at Prospect Point; no we didn’t feed the raucous raccoons ! At Brockton we stared at tall Totem Poles that mesmerized us back in time. At the gift shop, picked up a couple of hand crafted miniatures and a little jade bear on amethyst, the semi precious rocks of B.C. Best way to end your trip at Stanley Park is a horse drawn carriage ride along Park Drive.