Saturday, February 25, 2006
I opted to spend an extra full day in Montreal in order to have a look around. But there is a reason why tourism isn't a big thing in this city in February, and this day underlined that fact: it was cold, and a brisk wind only made things colder. I was glad I had brought my warmest winter coat, though occasionally as I turned a corner and was blasted by the wind shear from an adjacent building (thank you architects everywhere!) I wished I had brought a scarf along as well. I was determined to learn more about the layout of the city, and for me that means being a pedestrian, so I was determined to walk to the Old City and find the Archeology and History Museum there.
After a brief, nondescript breakfast I decided to tackle my first goal however, which was to find presents for my girls. I ducked into a (warm!) mall, and found a dollar store that had plush animals as well as several French-language activity books, which I hope will travel with us when we head to France next month. For an armload of goodies I only paid about $10.
After much trudging (and after some non-disastrous slips on the sidewalk, wondering why Montreal businesses did not clear the accumulated snow in front of their businesses), I found my way to the maze of underground passages that led me closer to my goal. When I emerged from underground and found my way about the Old City, I noted that many places there were alive and hopping in the summer were understandably closed in the depths of winter. Only a few art galleries and the odd shop or two seemed to be open.
I found Pointe Calliere and paid my admission. It turned out that there was a special discount, which applied to visitors who came to museum when it was below zero. One of the people said that it was a "Saturday Night Fever" discount, and I replied that it was more like a "Saturday Morning Hypothermia" discount, at which he laughed, and then translated the joke to the rest of his colleagues in French, which drew a similar round of giggles.
The highlight of the tour was a traveling exhibit on the works of Jules Verne from a museum in Paris, which was done to commemorate the centenary of the writer's death. In addition to many copies of his work appearing in rich bindings, and the lavish and evocative illustrations (improbable flying ships, a giant squid grappling with its victims, and of course Captain Nemo and his equally-famous underwater craft the Nautilus), there were appropriate examples of invariably oversized and ornate Victorian-era underwater mechanical contraptions, sometimes accompanied by animations depicting how they were supposed to work.
Afterwards I spent my time having a good look around the archeological exhibits, as my time was my own and I could spend the time and linger over given exhibits at leisure (that and the prospect of heading outside again anytime soon wasn't something I was necessarily looking forward to). After wandering around the underground exhibits I also went to see a very "fluffy" exhibit on love in Montreal.
I picked up a small English-language catalogue of the Verne exhibition to peruse later, and then made my way over to the Science Museum that lay by the waterside, which I had never been to before. Had lunch there, then paid admission to get in. On the whole I wasn't that impressed, as most of the exhibits are computer-based, with much of the "hand's-on" experiences meant placing one-self in front of a computer screen. Other items were aimed squarely at kids. My timing was also not great, since by the time I had discovered where the complimentary movie on the Snowbirds aerial acrobatic squad was, the English showing was well under way and the next such show wasn't on until much later. The most fun I had was actually a tongue-in-cheek pataphysic concoction by Florent Veilleux that ostensibly turned electricity into water. Very much like Rowland Emmett's fantastic machines from "Chitty-Chitty Bang Bang".
In the end it was not a place I am likely to visit myself again on my own, but one I would definitely take the kids too.
I then trudged up the hill, which happened to take me by the basilica. More out of curiosity than anything else, I decided to go in. It turned out that there was an admission: $4. Upon entering the basilica proper I couldn't help but think of Dawkin's words ringing in my ears as to religion ultimately is useful to those in power. The whole of the building, with its statuary, stained glass windows and often ornate wood-work was beautiful to look at, but the various regional authority figures depicted on the windows, the garishness of the "miraculous visions" that were depicted and the signs prominently displaying the charge for lighting a prayer candle helped drive home to me how much of this is very much a human rather than a divine endeavour. Organ music dramatically crashed down from the upper floor, and people were scattered about; some in prayer, some gawking at the sights and others aimlessly milling about taking in the sights. I took many pictures of the place, but was happy to face the cold again in order to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the place.
I located the nearest subway station and made my way to Bonaventure, which is the station nearest to my hotel, and made my way back to my room.
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