This past weekend I flew to Montreal to partake in one final au revoir to Concordia and all things MA-related. Convocation was on Monday, and the weekend was spent catching up with friends, and catching up with the city that I’ve always felt I left too soon. It was glorious, albeit far too short a visit.
Thanks to Peter for the Photo…
While I know that I’ll be back many more times (I can’t seem to stay away), it was still sad to leave on Monday, especially given how happy I was this weekend just being back in the city and seeing everyone. While I know that right now I’m in the right place (living and working in Winnipeg), there is still, and will likely always be, a part of me that wishes that I had never left. Montreal is the city that got away.
On the shuttle bus ride to the airport Tuesday afternoon, I was thinking about the conversation Matt and I had this past summer about moving to a different city, and whether or not I’d still want to move to Montreal if the friends I had made all decided to leave. I’ve realized that my answer would be a resounding ‘no’. Living in Montreal without the people I’ve met there would be the same as living elsewhere while they’re all in Montreal. It would be a reminder that I had missed an opportunity, or something along those lines. I’m still not sure that I really know what I’m talking about, and perhaps the sentimentality has taken over my ability to form coherent thoughs, but I suppose I’m just a bit bummed that this last trip has made it clear that I’m definitely a Montrealoutsider (Peter’s appropriate terminology) and never really had a significant enough chance to be a Montrealler. Any tiny bit of French vocabulary I once had has disappeared, my knowledge of the city has been reduced to three or four main streets, and the tourist feeling you get when you’re in a city you’re not familiar with felt all too strong this weekend. I’ve been thinking over the past few days that I’d like to take French lessons, but today I’m wondering if that’s not just some effort by my subconscious to prepare myself for a midnight bolt to the City of Smoked Meat.
As cheezy as it sounds, part of me has been mulling over ‘what would have been’ had I stayed in Montreal, learned French, got a job, and lived in some darling neighbourhood with picturesque walk-ups and local fruit and vegetable markets.
But, back to reality. There’s still no reason why I can’t go back. And go back I did this weekend, and it was fucking fantastic:
