Little could have topped our previous accommodations. Mounted antlers provided the only charm in our new, centrally located digs but we enjoyed ourselves pigging out on poutine and watching the Philadelphia Eagles win Super Bowl LII.
Keep in mind that "pigging out" on poutine is a relative term. In our case, it means more than three mouthfuls. Even Joe couldn't rise to the challenge of polishing off the leftovers back in Boston (trust me, the classic Quebecois dish looks a lot more appetizing plated than it did in a styrofoam container).
A bright sun warmed our slushy trek downtown on Monday.
Banners outside the Place des Arts promoted an exhibit about Montreal's favorite son at the Musée d'art contemporain. I'm sorry we didn't go.
We stopped at Simons just to make Thom jealous.
Knock-off Gucci is the cat's meow north of the border. I'm not sure even Jared Leto could get away with this print.
We began our walking tour of Old Montreal in the opulent lobby of the Royal Bank building, the tallest in the British Empire when it opened in 1928. It's as magnificent as the interior of Grand Central Station.
The incredibly blue sky silhouetted some nearby gargoyles.
Mandy's more than met Magda's lunch needs. Delicious grain bowls, interesting pop art and most important of all, fast wifi.
Some of the architectural details really do make you feel as if you're in an Old World country.
But there's plenty of contemporary eye candy, too.
After Magda gave me a lengthy lesson in Excel back at the Airbnb, we took the Metro back to Old Montreal to redeem my Christmas gift from her and Joe, a meal at Barroco. I had the beef bourguignon. They ordered the paella with lobster. Deelish all around.
They dropped me off at Gare Centrale on Tuesday morning. I took the Adirondack train back to New York City. If not for the 90-minute delay at the border crossing, it would have been a lovely and relaxing way to end another great getaway.
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