Strasbourg – La Capitale de Noel

Strasbourg has declared itself the capital of Christmas, aka la capitale de Noel in French. Chris says that no one can really claim that about themselves, but hey, Strasbourg was bold and decided f- everyone: we can call it like we see it and believe it! Strasbourg is one of the capitals of the EU. It has gone back and forth between being a part of Germany and France, and now, it’s currently part of France and is located right at the France/Germany border. It is famous as being one of the least French cities in all of France, and of course, for having some of the most magnificent Christmas markets in all of Europe. Its Christmas markets are one of the oldest in Europe, going strong since the 1570s, and now stretches over 300 markets stalls across the entire city. Strasbourg’s Christmas tree is known as the tallest decorate Christmas tree in all of Europe, and with all the half-timber houses lining the city, it is beyond picturesque during Christmas time. And with all the gorgeous reflections of lights and half-timber houses along the Rhine River, walking through it has felt like a fairy tale adventure.

We’ve been lucky and privileged to have visited various European Christmas markets for the last 11 years, except for 2020 (pandemic) and 2021 (when I was pregnant, then Kaia was born). We started in Hamburg and Berlin, Germany, in 2013, moved onto Vienna (2014), multiple cities across Switzerland (2015), Brussels, Brugges, and Amsterdam (2019). And this year, we’re in Paris and Strasbourg for their Christmas markets. I do not say this lightly since I never rank or have favorites for places I’ve visited: Strasbourg is likely one of the very best European Christmas market destinations we’ve ever visited; in my opinion, it really lives up the self-declared “Capitale de Noel” designation. Berlin and Hamburg were truly epic with a flying Santa with his reindeer and sleigh in Hamburg (!!) and endless, humongous, and elaborate weihnachtspyramide, or Christmas Pyramids. And here in Strasbourg, it seems like almost every house, shop, and building decks out its facade for Christmas, with Christmas themed teddy bears, Christmas lights, holly, wreaths, and endless ornaments. The markets all have local, Alsatian handmade goods, lots of edible delights (oh, the food at these markets is better and far more varied than in Germany given the French influence!), so there’s lots of fascinating, intricate, artisan-crafted goods to see as eye candy (or purchases, if your luggage has space). And the Christmas tree in Place Kleber – oh, my goodness. It’s likely my favorite Christmas tree of all the European Christmas markets we’ve been to. It’s so, so tall, and it has lots of interesting ornaments and lights that change different colors. Every 30 minutes to an hour, the lights “dance” to a light and music show that is a medley of familiar and favorite Christmas tunes. And my favorite part: it has little gingerbread people all over it! I just loved this tree SO much!

Sometimes when I walk through these markets, I feel like a child again, wide-eyed with wonder at all of the beautiful twinkling lights, mouth-watering scents, and all the fun and festive vibes emanating around me from both tourists and locals alike. I suppose each and every one of us adults has an inner child in us. But oddly enough, as I’ve gotten older each year, I have felt even more like a happy, innocent child at these markets, admiring the simple joys and pleasures of life and taking it all in like there might not be a tomorrow.

Third time in France

When I was young, I used to have all these fantasies and idealizations of France as some paradise on earth, where people simply understood la joie de vivre (“the joy of living”) and lived life to their fullest. But as someone who is about to turn 39 and nearly entering her 40s, I have realized as an adult who is only getting older that there’s really no such thing as a perfect or ideal society, that every city, country, and place on earth has its tradeoffs. You cannot have one great thing without sacrificing another. The things I love about France can also be the things that frustrate me about it, in the same way that the things I love about the U.S. are also the things that make me absolutely detest it and want to run from it. But alas, that certainly does not mean I do not love France and look forward to every visit here. I feel very lucky to say that I have visited this beautiful and delicious country three times now. It’s one of just a handful of places on earth where I feel like I need to save extra luggage space for all the delicious things I want to bring back home with me (not to mention all the incredible French skincare finds that are so much cheaper here!).

We spent the last day in Paris unexpectedly given my unanticipated ER visit and a delayed arrival in Europe. I got to visit Paris’s Chinatown for the second time (the first time was for Chris’s cousin’s wedding back in October 2015), but this time, we actually got to explore it. We found Chris’s cousin’s ex favorite durian cake spot and got some durian flaky pastries to enjoy. I noticed how much more Vietnamese than Chinese the neighborhood was. Paris’s Chinatown doesn’t look at all like any other Chinatown I’ve been to in that 1) it’s not really that Chinese, and 2) it feels more like a suburban neighborhood where everyone gets around by foot, but the shops, stores, and restaurants don’t really live on a main street or drag. Rather, they are all spread out just within blocks of each other for you to stumble upon.

One interesting thing I learned while looking at how Asian foods, particularly breads or “bao” are labeled in France is that they basically call all bao (soft, fluffy milk bread/buns) “brioche.” When I think of “brioche,” I think of a very specific type of extremely soft, buttery French bread. But “brioche” in France, it seems, is used a lot more loosely. They use it to label all Chinese buns, likely because Chinese bao (good quality ones) are all light, fluffy, and soft in your mouth. This kind of tickled me and gave me some more insight into the French language. My grasp of French is pretty poor now, but it has been coming back to me being surrounded by it here for the last day, and I’ve started remembering basic phrases and have been able to understand what people are saying to each other based on context. But I do love learning nuances of linguistics, especially of Chinese and French because they are the two languages I have formally studied.

Travel while sick

“Are you excited about your Luxembourg/France trip?” my friend happily texted me yesterday morning. I grunted when I saw her message.

I felt like a poor little rich girl when I saw that message. I should be happy that I have this fun European Thanksgiving trip filled with Christmas markets across three cities the next week. But honestly, nothing is that exciting or satisfying when you are not feeling well, especially when it’s a challenge to talk, eat, and breathe. Going on a trip, especially for over a week, means I have to pack and organize all my stuff. It means that I have to pack and organize all of Pookster’s stuff. It means I have to think about which bags/rollers to take and which not to take. It’s a mental load that when you are sick, is not very fun. Oh, and then I realize that I didn’t even compile lists for things to do/eat while in two out of three of the cities, so I had to spend time doing that yesterday.

At least one fun thing I did between preparing for the trip and napping is watching cooking videos (hi, Kenji and Pailin from Hot Thai Kitchen), and also watching people take out all their Trader Joe’s grocery hauls. I love watching people reveal their grocery purchases!

Toddler moments: chasing after a squirrel

On Friday when we arrived in Albany, in the late afternoon we went to the State Capitol area and let Kaia run around the buildings, green areas, and The Egg. It suddenly dawned on me while we were roaming around the area how rare it is that we just let her run free in any open area without being within arm’s reach of her. She reveled in it and soaked it all up, running and giggling with glee everywhere. She especially got excited every time she saw a squirrel, as she’d try to chase it until it ran up a tree. Then, she would whine and wave her arms up and down, yelling, “Why’d you go up the tree! Come back! Come back!” She’d feebly attempt to wrap her arms around the tree trunk in a weak attempt to hoist herself up the tree, then would immediately stop and just whine that the squirrel got away. I documented some of it via video and laughed each time. It was just too adorable to watch.

Her innocence in a photo is one thing, but video certainly takes capturing her moments to another level. It reminded me of when I listened to the YouTube star/food influencer Mark Wiens years ago, and he talked about how he originally documented all the food he ate on his travels via his blog. But after a little bit of time, he realized that while he enjoyed writing and and taking photos, it just wasn’t enough to capture the three-dimensional side of food, energy, and life. He needed to incorporate video to truly make his experiences come to life, and to allow his audience to experience what he was experiencing as though they were there.

I’m grateful to have easy access to technology to so easily document all my moments with her and her growth. That evening, I played the video of her yelling at the squirrel and commenting how she didn’t want it to get away over and over. This goes into my memory box of moments I never want to forget because of how innocent and truly adorable she is at this moment in time, at this age. Each day, Kaia is growing, getting bigger, smarter, and more mature. Each day, she changes. But I’ll always have these videos to go back to and watch and remember how amazing these times with her were at this point in time.

Indian Ladder Farm and Oysterfest 2024

A short drive away from Albany is a cute farm in Altamont, NY, called Indian Ladder Farm, which offers lots of fresh produce grown on the land, as well as dairy products and meat from neighboring farms. They also make their own apple cider donuts, pies, pastries, and other desserts. The farm has a large pumpkin patch where you choose a pumpkin, as well as endless apple orchards where you can PYO (pick your own) apples and pay by the weight. In 2003, Indian Ladder Farm, named after the Indian Ladder Trail, a Mohawk trade route, became the first farm in Albany County to receive a state farmland protection grant to protect the land from development. The land has to remain available for agricultural development and can never be developed. The space is definitely well used and laid out, with a full fledged store full of local goods and produce, lots of outdoor space for kids and families to hang out and play, as well as areas for riding ponies, a large sandbox for littles to dig holes and build sand castles, and an entertainment area with a stage for live music, a pizza oven/outdoor restaurant setup, an alcoholic drinks area where you can purchase local beers and wines, and endless seating, both indoors and out. It was quick to see why families and friends who are local would be happy to spend a full day hanging out at a place like this.

We got lucky with our visit to Indian Ladder Farm, as the annual Oysterfest was happening this weekend. Blue Point oysters, which are grown on oyster farms in the Great South Bay in Long Island, are served right on the farm. So we got to indulge in a dozen local oysters while also enjoying a white clam pizza (one of my all-time faves) that came fresh out of the coal pizza oven. An interesting thing that we didn’t try that I saw was an oyster stout, which is a dark semi-sweet beer brewed with oyster shells. It’s supposed to give the beer a richer, more savory flavor with a hint of brininess. Who would have thought that was a way to reuse oyster shells?

The area Kaia loved the most was one of the simplest, which was the sandbox. She spent a good amount of time using the different bucket and shovels, digging holes, creating large sand piles, handing the buckets to me, and then repeating the process over and over again in different spots. She didn’t seem to tire of this no matter how much time passed. It was a reminder to me how simple her desires are and how it really doesn’t take much to entertain or amuse her for hours (potentially) on end. A sandbox seems so basic, but oddly enough, we don’t really have one near us in the parks and playgrounds on the Upper West Side that I’m aware of. So I’m happy she was able to indulge even if just for a bit.

Autumn in New York state is in full force now

Growing up in California, I didn’t really know what autumn was. Fall was this nearly mythical, far-away concept that had no bearing on my life. While leaves did change color in San Francisco, it was usually from green into a sad beige or brown almost immediately. As a child, I was never exposed to the brilliant yellows, golds, bright, nearly fluorescent oranges, burgundy-reds, and even deep purples that you can see near in the Northeast of the U.S. Then, I went to Wellesley for college, in the heart of New England, and every fall once the new school year began, I was thrusted into all this endless and beautiful color. Although I am never that happy when the temperatures start cooling and the days get shorter, I always love the fall leaves and the changing colors right before my eyes every day.

Last year, we went to Springfield, Massachusetts, the first week of October in search of fall leaves, but alas, due to global warming, we came a bit too early. Everywhere we went, all we saw was green, and the locals told us that we’d be unlikely to see any autumn leaves until the end of the month. So, this year, Chris booked our fall long weekend trip for the last weekend of October, and this time, it’s in Albany, the state’s capital. And the timing was pretty spot on this year: all along the roads we drove on and everywhere we went, we saw the vibrant goldenrods, fiery burnt oranges, and deep crimsons that scream autumn.

On our way up to Albany, we stopped in the cute little town of Kingston at a well loved coffee/donut shop called Half Moon Rondout Cafe. They had a delicious variety of donuts, some of which are made to order. Here, we shared a pistachio honey latte, a pistachio bombolini (Italian style donut), a freshly churned out cinnamon sugar donut, and a slice of their signature and decadent chocolate babka. The latte had just enough pistachio flavor, the bombolini had a sweet nuttiness to it, and the fresh cinnamon sugar donut was deceptively light and airy while being not too sweet. The chocolate babka slice was clearly the star of the show, though, even with such delicious donuts. I couldn’t believe how much chocolate they had managed to pack into this slice, and all the layers of dough that just melded together and formed what is likely the richest babka we’ve ever enjoyed. I was tempted to get a whole babka loaf to bring home, but I decided that it would be a bit too gluttony of us given other delicious things we’d be eating on this trip. Every time we leave the city, I always marvel at the spacious cafes and the ample seating; not every cafe out there is packed to the brim with people on their laptops like in New York City.

We also visited the Emerson Kaleidoscope, which is supposed to be the world’s largest kaleidoscope. We did the kaleidoscope show, which lasted about ten minutes and required you to stand leaning on these back “rests.” You also have the option to lie or sit on the floor while looking up, which is what Kaia did. It doesn’t seem to matter whether you are 3 or 63, but if you like colors, kaleidoscopes would appeal to anyone at any age. Kaia seemed to enjoy it, as she didn’t fuss at all during the short show and was looking up the entire time.

Another highlight of today was visiting the Kleinke Dutch Farm, where Kaia got to see lots of farm animals (and even got bitten by a couple when she tried to fake-feed them…), touch lots of fresh pumpkins, and throw and kick in endless fallen leaves everywhere. While kicking and throwing leaves with her, I thought about how fun this was and how I wasn’t sure what I enjoyed more: seeing autumn colors and leaves, or hearing that lovely sound of them crunching under my feet. These are experiences I never got when I was little, but now, I get to be a kid again and enjoy all this with her together.

We had two notable meals today: a late lunch at the historic Olde English Pub, in a beautiful house that is one of the original buildings in Albany, constructed in 1736, previously called the Quackenbush House. There, we enjoyed maple roasted brussel sprouts, a buttery and belly-warming beef pot pie, and fish and chips; plus, dinner at Shwe Burmese Restaurant, where it felt like we were dining in someone’s house. The staff all seemed like family (and the kids even played with Kaia towards the end of the meal). We had Burmese tea (sweet, creamy, and strong, almost like Hong Kong style milk tea), tea leaf salad, a Burmese egg noodle salad (tasted like a savory-sweet mix of tamarind and sesame paste), and a Burmese fish curry. Our mains came with soup, salad, and an interesting shaved ice dessert that had grass jelly, raisins, peanuts, and a fruit syrup topping. I wasn’t expecting grass jelly, but I enjoyed this dessert!

Albany isn’t considered a “major” metro area, but it has quite a number of eclectic restaurants and cafes to keep you interested. The fall colors everywhere have been a gorgeous backdrop, so we really got lucky with our timing this year.

The grass is always greener on the other side – from a food perspective

Whenever we travel, and especially to places with really strong food cultures, like France, Italy, and pretty much anywhere and everywhere in Asia, I always think how amazing it would be to live in a place that truly values food and freshness. The U.S. was built to feed a lot of people en masse, which basically means that we’re feeding for the sake of feeding people here (quantity matters, full bellies matter) instead of thinking about quality or sustainability of raw ingredients. So whenever I hear about people who are of a similar age as I am, originally born and raised in a Western nation like the U.S., but have done the “reverse migration” of going back to their country of origin, I am always intrigued, and my ears tend to perk up.

In the last year, I discovered the freelance journalist Clarissa Wei and her cookbook Made in Taiwan. She is of Taiwanese descent, but she was born and raised in Southern California. She has since moved back to Taiwan and is living there with her husband and young child. When I did a search for her, I actually realized I had read endless articles she had written about Chinese and Taiwanese food previously, but I had just not remembered the by-line on those articles. Her cookbook reads like a journal or blog, peppered with lots of heavily researched factoids and also personal stories of her own experiences in the U.S. and in Taiwan. She says that when Costco opened in Taiwan, she and her husband got a membership and treated their visits there like her parents used to treat treks to Ranch 99 in California: while her parents would get excited at stocking up on all their favorite Taiwanese and Asian ingredients and fresh produce, she and her husband now meticulously plan what they will buy at Costco: avocados, bagels, and all the Western things that you cannot easily find in Taiwan that they missed having easy access to while in the U.S. “The grass is always greener on the other side,” she lamented. Prior to moving to Taiwan, she used to get excited about having easy access to the night markets and all her favorite Taiwanese dishes. Now that she has all that literally at her doorstep, she wants the American things that are either far more expensive in Taiwan or more difficult to find.

Another funny anecdote she shared that actually made me laugh out loud: she said that her standard Taiwanese stove top was able to get so hot that it would make restaurant-quality fried rice with real “wok hei” as I always get excited about. I always love getting stir-fried noodles and rice at restaurants because “wok hei” is just impossible at home with our stove top. On the flip side for Clarissa, it was very challenging to impossible to slow simmer anything on her stove top. So she went to a shop to see what it would cost to get her range replaced with an American-style one. The shopkeeper looked at her like she’d gone crazy and said, “Why would you do that? Do you want food with no flavor?” The sheer horror!

We always want what we cannot get easily and romanticize the things we don’t have. Off the top of my head, I think that if we leave the U.S., I would most definitely miss not having to think about how to read food labels (this is a funny one, isn’t it?). In New York City specifically, I’d miss easy access to literally every cuisine on earth, somewhere across these five boroughs. I’d also probably miss easy access to boneless, skinless chicken thighs, or trays of neatly cubed beef chuck, or a boneless leg of lamb. I am American, after all, raised in a western country that is used to having its citizens being quite far removed from the process of animal slaughter.

Boston: like a third home

While New York is my current home and has been for the last 16-plus years, San Francisco will always be my hometown. The next place that would be on the list would be Boston. I went to school in the Boston area for four years. I commuted back and forth between New York and Boston for three years after I graduated from Wellesley for a long-distance relationship. At minimum, I was there one weekend every month in that three-year period between 2008-2011. So much is familiar to me in Boston, as during my school years, I remember spending a lot of time just walking everywhere in Somerville, Cambridge, and Boston, exploring random streets and seeing what all the little neighborhood quirks were. Looking back, I remember that it felt like I knew the city better than friends or former classmates who actually studied and lived in Boston and Cambridge because they spent so much of their time just on their own college campuses. I’ve always been a city person, so whenever I could and didn’t have a midterm, final, or major paper holding me back, I wanted to be in the city and escape the ‘burbs of Wellesley.

Once that long-distance relationship ended, I didn’t return to Boston again for another six years. Chris planned a long-weekend trip in spring 2017 to take his parents to Boston, so the four of us went and explored the city once again. Then, between 2017-2019, I’ve had at least 2-3 work trips a year to Boston. When I would take these trips, I’d always leave ample time for myself to wander around and explore, try new bars and restaurants, and also catch up with local friends/former classmates if they were available. Sometimes, I’d be reminded of things I did at certain restaurants, locations, or neighborhoods. I’d reminisce on fond memories I had with friends in different areas. Other times, I’d be rudely reminded of dumb things that were said or done on specific streets. That’s what Boston is for me: it’s full of lots of memories, the good, the bad, and the neutral, because I spent a good chunk of my late teens/early-to-mid twenties there. And every time I went back on a work trip, I’d debate whether I’d want to eat at an old haunt (assuming it was still around), or try something fun, new, and/or trendy.

The last time I was in Boston was July 2019. I came back today for a customer onsite meeting, and it hit me that it’s been just over five years since I was last here. I arrived early this morning, so I decided that since I needed to be near South Station by noon that I’d have breakfast in Chinatown. I went back to an old favorite dim sum house called Windsor Dim Sum Cafe, a small restaurant on the second floor, which made dim sum to order after you marked what you wanted on a little sheet of paper. Since it was just me, I ordered pork and preserved egg jook and a bowl of sweet soy milk. Both came out piping hot and were delicious, though oddly enough, I actually think they added a bit too much sugar to my fresh soy milk (I really never thought I’d say that. This must be my aging Asian taste buds talking…). I really enjoyed being the first guest to open the shop at 10am. I sat down and enjoyed my congee while slowly sipping my soy milk as some grandmother/father-aged guests came in. Two friends also came in who looked around my age. They must have had a break from work and/or parenthood because both were having a very intense discussion about breastfeeding, pumping and under-supply. I was almost tempted to join in, but refrained since I was enjoying my alone time quite a bit and really couldn’t be distracted from my own food and drink.

After nearly four hours this afternoon at my customer’s office, I then spent several hours wandering through multiple areas: the Seaport, Downtown Crossing/financial district, Chinatown, the Boston Commons and Public Gardens, and Back Bay. So much is the same and felt nostalgic, but much has also changed. Newbury Street had more “for lease” store fronts than I had imagined. I figured it would have been hit hard by the last several years, but didn’t think it would be this dismal. Newbury Street also has far more Asian businesses in the form of casual restaurants, bubble tea shops, and shaved ice/fancy nail shops than I’d ever seen before.

I was saddened to learn ahead of time that my favorite Chinese cake shop of all time, Eldo Cake House on Harrison, had shut down mid-2022, due to unfavorable lease renewal terms. I was never fond of any Asian cake growing up because I found them boring and flavorless, but Eldo completely changed my mind about this. In my college years, I purchased two large cakes from them for two different friends’ birthday parties/dinners. Every time I’d be in Chinatown, I’d stop and buy something from that shop because it was just so exceptional. On every single work trip to Boston between 2017-2019, I always made sure to drop into Eldo for at minimum, a single slice of their mixed fruit and whipped cream cake, even if it was completely out of the way. THAT was how damn good that cake was. It was truly special, one of a kind, with just the right amount of sweetness, the most fluffy and bouncy sponge cake, always super fresh fruit, and perfectly whipped (non-dairy) cream. I don’t know if I will ever have Chinese-style cake that is that perfect ever again. In addition, Gourmet Dumpling House, which was my favorite Boston Taiwanese/Chinese restaurant on Beach Street, has also closed down at a similar time that Eldo shuttered. The story is similar to Eldo with a pricey rent hike, but on the plus side, it looks like they have a second location that is still humming along and quite popular in Cambridge. A few new trendy-looking restaurants have opened in the Chinatown area. I remember trying one during a 2018 or 2019 work trip and being completely underwhelmed. Sometimes, it’s the old traditional stuff that is just more satisfying than what is trying too hard to be unique.

I had dinner tonight with a college friend I hadn’t seen since my last Boston visit in July 2019. We ate at Saltie Girl on Newbury Street and shared a huge, luxurious salad and two warm and decadent lobster rolls. It felt so good to see her after so long. We talked about and caught up on so many things over three-plus hours together. I’m still processing what we discussed and trying to remember it all. It just felt really nice to be reunited with an old friend after so long, and after we spent so much time in college together.

I used to be sad shortly after graduating from college to think that I only had two good friends that I left college with, plus a small handful of friends like this one who I loosely kept in touch with. Socially, I did not think Wellesley was a great place for me, even if academically, I was decently suited to it. In my twenties, I was envious of other people who seemingly had endless friends from college who would be their 10 bridesmaids or have epic 10-20-person girls trips annually. But now nearing 40, I realize that what I have is actually really great, and I am grateful for the connections I was able to make and continue to keep. I have people from college who I can reunite with after years of not seeing or speaking with in depth, with maybe the occasional text or Instagram message, and it feels like meeting up with family again. They feel familiar, you feel familiar, and everything just feels comfortable. There’s no reason to front or posture over how great or perfect our lives are (because God knows all our lives are pretty imperfect and full of annoyances and tribulations). We just say what we think even if it sounds stupid, and we discuss it. There’s really no right or wrong answer when it comes to your thoughts.

Or, maybe that’s what approaching middle aged status means: being comfortable in our own skin, not giving a fuck what other people think (or, less than our younger years, relatively speaking), and well, being extremely cognizant of our own imperfections, our aging, and ultimately our mortality.

St. Viateur Bagels in Montreal: The best damn bagel in the world

As someone who has lived in New York City for the last 16+ years, I can honestly say that while the bagels here are delicious (to this day, my favorite bagel in all of New York City is at Absolute Bagels in Morningside Heights in Manhattan), they are not quite on the same level as Montreal bagels. The reason is really simple: New York bagels are… heavy. Once you’ve eaten half or one, you KNOW you have eaten it. It weighs on you. It makes you feel heavy and like you cannot eat anything more. When you have a Montreal bagel, somehow it manages to be light, airy, and crisp, and you can easily eat 5-6 of them and not even realize you ate that many freaking bagels. I’m going to say it, and I don’t care what you think (especially if you’ve never even been to Montreal and had one of their bagels: Montreal has the best damn bagels in all of North America, if not the entire WORLD.

How are Montreal bagels different from New York bagels? Montreal bagels are wood-fired. When you walk into any St. Viateur, you can immediately see the open wood-fired oven. That’s why Montreal bagels have that delicious crispy exterior, which is then contrasted quickly with its very light and chewy interior. This is all heightened by (what I think is) the best type of Montreal bagel: the sesame. THE SESAME BAGEL IS THE BEST. We came back to St. Viateur after 10 years today. Ten years ago, we visited their location on Mont-Royal Ave E, and this time, we visited their more old-school location on Rue Saint-Viateur O, right in the heart of the Jewish ‘hood, which had at least three thousand more reviews on Google. And for four Canadian dollars, we got three bagels: sesame, all dressed (what they call the “everything” bagel), and apple maple (for Pookster). All dressed was delicious. Apple maple was good. But the sesame – AHHHH, the sesame. The sesame bagel was truly perfect. The first bite was exactly the same as my first Montreal bagel bite ten years ago, everything from the contrasting textures to the taste and the flavor. The toastiness of the sesame seeds on the outside of the bagel just sang. It really SANG. We ate all three bagels just like that. And we didn’t feel heavy at all.

Also, you know how people in New York slice bagels and put the cream cheese in between? Here at St. Viateur when you watch people eat their bagel, they take bites and DIP the bagel into their tiny containers of cream cheese. Yes, that’s how they eat them here! It is no doubt a lighter bagel here in Montreal!

Dreary Montreal

When I look back at all the major cities we’ve visited in Canada, while I loved Toronto, Quebec City, and Vancouver, for some reason, I do not feel the “L” word is quite fitting for Montreal, and I’m not completely sure why. In 2014 when we first went, it was dreary and raining almost the whole time we were there. I am sure that did not help. But the other part that threw me off was that even though I know basic French since I studied it in school, when I listened to people speaking in French in Montreal, it didn’t sound anything like the French-French I learned in high school. I remembered people constantly bumping into me. I wasn’t sure if they were tourists or locals, but it was really annoying.

And somehow, similar things happened this time around, too! On our first day in Montreal, people were constantly bumping (or almost bumping) into me on sidewalks and streets. It was as though they lacked peripheral vision. Then, the weather was also crappy this time around, as well! It nearly poured within hours of our arriving, and we ended up having to duck into a little Italian cafe to avoid getting drenched by the torrential rain. Plus, with the rain came lower temperatures: it’s at least 10 degrees F lower than what the weather report showed for this area before we left. I was being stupid and naive when I packed for this trip, and the heaviest thing I brought for myself to wear was a flimsy cotton cardigan; the part that annoyed me the most about this is that I usually always pack an extra layer or two just in case (it’s my San Francisco “you can’t trust the weather” mentality). I have no real shoes and only two pairs of sandals. I was freezing here today.

I don’t know when I am going to Montreal next, but I do hope that if and when that next time comes, that the weather actually holds up and I’m not constantly getting wet while I’m there. Because if you are walking around a city as a tourist under dressed and freezing, it will never bode well for how you remember it.