|From Schmidt & Weston blog|
often find myself missing Montréal, but I find it hard to articulate why. The language politics drove me near insane. The supposed friendliness of the city seemed largely mythical to me. A series of disappointing professional experiences caused pre-mature bitterness for a time. And if I think of the spring in Montréal, all I can conjure up is the slush and smell of dog shit flagrantly ignored for months.
Still, I miss it.
Perhaps it is similar to how New Yorkers feel about their city, rife with smells. "It smells like a urinal, and I love it" was one of the most memorable quotes I got from a very rough and reluctantly friendly bar denizen in the Bowery district.
So it isn't just the Fruiterie that I loved, or the bagels that caused me to gain 15 pounds over 5 years, or the sighting of Leonard Cohen (who I didn't bother to say hello to due to my bad mood at the time and I'll continue to regret that). What brings on these feelings of missing that old city is represented by this photo; the drive the local folks had to change things just subtly enough to suit their tastes... and the complete lack of drive from the city workers to do anything to correct that.