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October 20, 2004
Monday-Friday 10am-9pm Saturday 9am-5pm Sunday 10am-5pm; Tunnel hours Monday-Friday 6am-1am Saturday-Sunday 7am-1amMetro McGill stationPhone: (514) 288-3710
From journal YUL
November 7, 2003
Upon arriving at this station, head up the stairs from Le Metro, at which point you will see La Baie, the local department store. Turn an immediate right, and you will see some of the stores that make up Eaton Centre.
We walked around the mall, looking in stores that sold clothing, books, shoes, household appliances, as well as many other miscellaneous stores. There were quite a few sales going on during our visit, so a very nice flatware set with an oak storage chest, a pair of warm snow boots, new socks, and a Dean Koontz book written in French seemed to just jump in our bags magically. Before we knew it we were laden with heavy bags, my feet and knees began to get sore again, and it was about lunchtime. So we decided why not just have a lunch.
This time we headed to the food court in the mall, which had everything from gourmet coffee shops to Chinese, American, and Italian food. The entire food court area is very open and great for just relaxing after some shopping, talking with your companion, or simply watching the people walk briskly from shop to shop. Plus, compared to Old Port prices, these lunches were more than reasonable; this time we only spent approximately $10 for both our lunches, which included sodas, and two plates heavily loaded with freshly cooked Chinese food.
After relaxing and allowing my feet to rest, we headed back off to the hotel, as we both decided that if we stayed any longer we would just keep acquiring items here and there until we were unable to carry it back. At McGill station, we waited forthe train that headed back towards Honere-Beaugrand, our arms full with large bags, when my husband and I made an unexpected friend. A local and his son wishing to know when the next train was due sent me into a paralysis, as I tried to translate what he was saying. Soon we all boarded Le Metro, laughing as we all attempted to speak to one another, me in my rather rusty French and both father and son in their very rapid local dialect. At this moment, as I noticed others around me speaking their French-Canadian dialect, my husband standing near me, the vibration under my feet from Le Metro, the slightly musty and sweaty smell of the subway, and my feeble attempts at French, I suddenly felt like I was at home.
From journal Montreal, city of joy, love and good food
saint john, New Brunswick
August 8, 2003
From journal trip to montreal