Today may have been the perfect Montreal day for me (albeit one that I spent alone)
It started, as all of my good days do with me stepping on my ambitiously named 'thinner' brand scales and seeing that my weight was down again. I'm now a full 13lbs (6kgs) lighter than I was when I got here and getting dangerously close to being Singapore weight, with some added muscle.
Delighted I took the dog out into the brilliant sunshine, a perfect 27c and just enough breeze to keep it feeling fresh and we walked along the canal for an hour before turning back for home, stopping only for fresh bread at the market.
Called Jude, who was enjoying the mountain air and felt a surge of 'gotta get me some of that' - as I did I passed a store that was advertising a workout / yoga / hiking weekend in the countryside just outside of the city. Called them and will be hiking, swimming, doing yoga, taking a bootcamp class and BBQing in 3 weeks. Perfect.
After breakfast I headed out in search of a haircut and a massage. We live in a gentrified block so it was those places that I tried first, no luck. Each place sighed sadly and then took great delight in showing me their appointment books, full to burst into the next millennial and then pointed me in the direction of someone equally busy and chi-chi. En route I chanced upon Jerry's and looking through the window spied an extra seat. I walked in and hi-fives were exchanged all around. It seems that Jerry's attracts a lot of white faces at the window, but that when people look in and see three young black guys with clippers they run a mile. I was the first white customer in 3 months and they loved it. We buzzed off the hair, sculpted the beard and did something a little Cary Grant with the moustache. I look different, but actually pretty cool.
Home to search the Internet for massage and turned down by all until I get to Miami. I call, they have a spot. I walk down, it's three blocks from the house and am offered the menu - Thai, Shiatsu, Hot Stone ($15 more), Hand job, Blow Job....
"Just a sec" I say. "I just want a massage. Is that okay? Or am I in the wrong place?"
"Up to you" says the small Asian woman who moments ago looked like a grandma but now has all of the markings of a mamasan.
"You pay me $20 for hand-job now, or you negotiate with girl and it cost more"
Too embarrassed to leave (I get very English when faced with having to offend) I walk into the small room, note the bucket full of used tissues and await my fate. In walks a girl dressed for a cocktail party/
"I only want a massage" I say
"Really? she says
"Yes I say, I'm having back problems" - I point at my back with my ring finger
"Well I make all of my money on services" she says "how about you pay me $15 for no-hand job"
I agree and her face lights up. She's from Indonesia, is learning German and Arabic, has an Aunt in Berlin and loves Bali. Freed from the idea of having to blow me she's all smiles and genuine massage expertise. I like her.
Of course only I would have to pay to get no action in a brothel.
From the massage to Dr Sketchy's - held in a dark bar away from the sunlight, but with a bikini beach theme. Mad but fun.
Back out into the street and the people are universally gorgeous. The women have decided that bags are out and that tits are in and almost to a woman have used a push up bra to create enough cleavage to act as a holster for a cell phone. They're everywhere and one wonders whether they're on vibrate.
The men are equally gorgeous. The big gay festival (well one of them) is in full swing and so the skin is uniformly olive, the arms buff and the v-neck t-shirts tight and complementing equally tightly cropped hair.
I decide to walk. Down through parks and little pedestrianised enclaves where 100s mill, eating and drinking Rose. Then down onto St Laurent and all of the fashion and boutiques. Until I come to Cinema L'amour - the biggest sex cinema in North America. I take a few shots and then a few more of the lobby. The girl behind the desk suggests I come back between shows as the theater is gorgeous and could be photographed then, but that right now they have people in and they're having sex. And here I was thinking that the sex was all on screen. This time I made my excuses and bolted.
Back home by 6.30 and realize that I've not eaten today. All of the walking has pretty much taken me past restaurants but somehow I didn't feel the urge. So here I am, contemplating what to put on my home made pizza, with the sun shining and the temperature still steady at 27c. The dog as been out and in an hour I leave to photograph a giant outdoor drag queen party... before skipping over to Parc Jean Drapeau for the fireworks and an open-air Coldplay gig.
It's been a very different day, but I finally feel like a local. Hey I almost joined my taxi-driver as he cat-called and wolf-whistled every woman he saw on the street - ruefully lamenting "And today, of all days, I am working"