And the beat goes on...

Before I start this let me just say that I hate Chase bank. Good. That's done and now I can get on with the catch-up.

Montreal continues to surprise... extreme heat gives way to violent rain storms, the wind gets up and the people know to take cover but still it feels like a cool place to be.

We've not done much other than rush from appointment to appointment but we've still managed to take in a sniff of the air, meet the neighbors and generally start to feel as though this was a good idea.

Next week the jazz festival starts... with Stevie Wonder playing for free and no doubt tens of thousands of people trying to look as though they haven't noticed that the blind walrus lost it years ago. 'Jazz' is defined pretty loosely it seems, but it's all very musician noodly - so I'm sure that it will be fun.

Next 24 hrs - dinner with a new colleague of Jude, a photo tour of old Montreal with a Sony Photo rep for me and some long walks with the dog.

Boring post, huh?

A new space

So today is all about doing the things that set me up for working properly.

I have an appointment at a new gym, I'm sitting in the Cluny Art Bar



And I'm working again. Which is actually very nice. Not paid work, but just doing the stuff that I need to get done.
We've (almost) arranged cleaners and car insurance, we have lovely QC plates on the car and we're tan to within an inch of Orange

Life is sweet right now... amazing what 30c and a bit of cool can do for you, huh?

Thinking like the Quebecois

Today is a kind of national holiday in Quebec. Or rather it would be a national holiday if 0.6% of the people had switched their vote in the referendum and Quebec had gone it's own way as a country rather than a province. Anyway as they'd picked out an Independence day, and being careful to guard against waste, Quebec has a provincial holiday exactly one week before Canada has a holiday of its own.

So with the sun shining, the digital thermometers saying 28c and nothing to do we decided to head for the park and for the beach. The trouble was, so did everyone else. Which meant traffic, a parking spot 5km from the beach and a long walk through the park to a beach that already looked like this and still had 1000s of people pouring down towards it, hot body after hot body.

We bailed, headed for the nearest Marina, had some lunch and headed for home.... old? Nah, just sans beachwear until our stuff turns up and sans sun tan lotion and towels (burns and sandy crevices, ouch) for the nude beach...

Countryside was lovely though

Efficiency hits a speed bump

well insured
Originally uploaded by sashamd

So today I wanted to register the car and get my Quebec plates.

I gathered up all of the paperwork and headed down to the SAAQ to plead my case.

Well I tried to... but first of all the station closest to the SAAQ was closed for renovation. Still the bus worked and I was soon there - only to be greeted by a woman as unpleasant as she was unqualified.

"You are missing a form!" she barked

"Really?" I asked, eyebrows raised in a roguish Roger Moore way

"Yes!" she exclaimed

"Which form?" I asked, reasonably

"Go 'ere and get the form!" she barklaimed

"And which form should I ask for?" I inquired

"Zay will know!" she emphatically quoth and that was that

Two hours later I'm down at the Institute du Pinstitute, located in the Chateau Gâteaux in front of customs.

"There is no other form" said the nice lady."This is everything, 'ere is my number, if you 'ave any more problems, make zem call me"

Unable to accept good news regarding the car at this point I then called the SAAQ - except that their office doesn't take incoming calls.

So I called the RIV (the people who register imports)

"You're RIV exempt" purred Catwoman "the woman at the SAAQ may not have seen that before, ask to see her superior and if there is a problem have them call us."

So tomorrow I head back to the SAAQ, Judith, two phone numbers and the same forms in hand....

but with a new Blackberry in my pocket (thank you Rogers) and with a spring in my step "Bring me your superior, you stupid woman. And I do not mean the monkey that you 'ave in the back - though it too is superior to you"

---> My life does feel like an episode of 'Allo 'Allo right now

But what does life in Montreal look like?

Well I'm glad you asked. Here's what Saturday looked like. It started early with Jude up painting things and fixing the areas where my inexpertise with masking tape was all too evident. As she slaved I walked, with the dog, along the canal. Now I usually tend to think of canals as places where old shopping carts and perverts too long in the tooth and short in the genitals to cause a real stir at the mall go to die. Throw in the odd wheezing swan and asthmatic child throwing mould sporing bread to cannibalistic ducks and you get the perfect canal picture.

But this one is a real fixer upper. They rent kayaks, people on rented bikes whiz by yelling "Monsieur, a droit" not realizing that the time it takes me to translate such a piece of information is a split second longer than they have to get around me. The houses by the canal are beautiful and the old warehouses are sprouting young professionals faster than the young professionals are spawning Jeremys and Voilets.

Anyway the walk is a couple of hours long and is followed by coffee at the local coffee shop where Velcro, usually used go being chained outside, is delighted to join the legion of big dogs resting contentedly at the feet of caffeinating owners.

Home and lunch before deciding that we really do need some clothes if we're going to meet people before the 29th - when our stuff gets into town. So we head into downtown (15 mins) and start shopping. The streets are full, the discounts are deep and at one point we stumble into "Ze largest outdoor fashion show in North America" - where it seems dancing is encouraged and hotness is a requirement rather than an option.

Newly fashioned up we head home, change, take some pictures and head across the street for pizza at a nice open air cafe before jumping in a taxi (a taxi!) to the McConnell ice arena where an ex-figure skater (or as he thinks it should be called "Flower Glider" is doing a stand-up show. He's not at all bad - therapy on wheels and better than the last rollerblading theatrical experience Jude had (as a St John's ambulance person she witnessed Starlight Express derailing as they switched from rollerboots to rollerblades)

Home again and we're just in time to watch the Spanish entry into the Summer Fireworks Festival explode over downtown... before heading for bed and watching two episodes of True Blood.

And that's a Saturday for us... me's happy