A view of Montreal from the mountain, early September, 2022

The adventure begins! Not with a bang but rather the steady silence of a train, stopped in the middle of farmland in Ontario as the engineers changed out a suspicious bearing. Better to be safe than sorry, of course, and perhaps a late arrival into Montreal is a fitting start given the delay caused by my second bout with covid, and the frustrating feeling of stasis from the last two-plus years of dealing with the pandemic.

I am here, though. And here is a charming two-bed apartment on rue saint Dominique in the Plateau area of Montreal. I'm three blocks from the mountain (Mount Royal is, after all, what gives the city its name), a stone's throw from the myriad of interesting shops, cafés and restaurants on nearby streets, and the apartment itself is full of character and wood and plants and comfortable furniture, with a balcony overlooking the chaotic backyards of the old jumbled-together buildings, along with half a dozen tall trees. I am happy there is a bird feeder.

Now what? I ask myself. It's an interesting question, and of course there is no answer. Whatever happens, happens. I will wander the streets, sit in cafés, look for a yoga studio perhaps, sign up for any random classes I come across, meet up with the couple of friends I have here and, of course, read and write. I'm turning my back on a life ruled by to-do lists and domestic demands, because they will never end no matter how much I focus on them, and opening myself to unexpected encounters, sights and thoughts. 

I started my first morning in the city with an amazing wander (half walk, half run) along the maze of paths on the mountain. It was fresh when I started out, only 14 degrees, but I was soon warm as I made my way up through the forest to the Belvedere Camilien Houde (a lookout point). I got hopelessly lost, but can you call it that when one doesn't know the lay of the land? A bit like life, perhaps; an exploration or a meander in unknown parts. It was gorgeous.