Citadel

A few days ago I was striding through the snow and I happened to spot some trees and inhale simultaneously. The snow, the sun, the smell evoked for a split second the serene feeling of standing in a clearing on a small mountain.

Wait. Isn't there a small mountain twenty blocks from my apartment?

Yes. There is.

Looking forward to a slippery, spellbinding hike in January.

Montreal Counterpoint

Morgan's recent post evoked a "gems in the shit" sentiment in me; This old city has been falling apart since it started, and we have to find small, secret moments of beauty in the "mangle of neglect". The constant state of disrepair contributes to most visitors' impression of Montreal as a historic, charming, creative place. As residents, we have to look harder. We see that it's not the decomposing infrastructure that exudes 'charm', but the creative people who re-make their surroundings to be functional, comfortable and unique. Like hermit crabs who inhabit whatever shell the environment provides, making a temporary home, we cannot expect this shell of a city to give us any aesthetic hospitality. It's up to us to find, renew and imbue.

Hipsters with good organizational skills have banded together all over Mile-End and Grifftentown to do just this. Converted warehouses such as lab.synthese, Eastern Bloc and L'envers host musical events, parties and art shows in an unconventional space with unconventional alcohol licensing (read: none). These places could be seen as ugly. They have exposed pipes, chipped paint, broken windows, uneven floors, poor heating & plumbing and terrible architecture. But they are alive! There are beautiful young people pretending to be bored, getting drunk, talking about art and ideas, touching each other and fixing up the wrecked parts of the city in order to continue doing these things. The ugliness of these places has been overtaken by the brightness of youthful enthusiasm. It's guerilla beautification.

Technicolor Dream-Abrasion

Montreal is a dilapidated city. Don't take my word for it, just open your eyes. You will see it everywhere. Where it is not dilapidated, it is tasteless. My roommate hates it. "What am I doing here?" he asks. He takes photographs of its ugliness every day. You can see them here. For the most part I agree with him. To glorify the decay of human structures is to glorify the decay of humanity. But on occasion something charming reveals itself in the mangle of neglect.

For instance, where aged, useless buildings have detached themselves from their younger passengers to slink away and crumble. They leave a tattered patch of their furry skin exposed to the air. Shimmering against a gray or brick surround.

It is an enchanting technicolor lichen.

Design Flaw

Every morning, on my way to school, I have to walk across Mont Royal.
Every morning, I walk down Rue St. Urbain and I stop at the red light next to Beauty's Lunchonette.
Whenever there is a break in traffic, I step into the street.

I am an expert Jaywalker.

As I move through the intersection, I look to my left, right down the centre of the road.
It's quite a view.

The Olympic stadium, Montréal's most spectacular failure, is perfectly framed by an endless busy commercial stretch. As I was walking up the mountain, towards the graveyard the other night (which you can read about here) I caught another perfect glimpse of it, this time surrounded by trees and expensive Outremont homes.

It is probably Montréal's most easily recognizable landmark. Like some kind of tusk jutting out of the city, or perhaps a giant deformed question mark. It is so iconic that I've even seen photographs of people who have it as a tattoo.

Last summer, I used to keep a notebook in my back pocket. Red cover, black coil; mead. It flipped vertically. I wrote many things, I filled it up after three months. Dozens of drunken scrawls, song lyrics, images. One such page read:

July 8th, 1:26 am

After three pints,
The Olympic Stadium tattoo makes sense.


Montréal, I'm smitten.
Even your flaws are adorable.

The City!

My name is Lola. I am a Canadian. I have lived in various Canadian cities and I have travelled throughout Eastern and Western Europe, Scandinavia, Japan and North America. Now I find myself in the nation of Quebec, studying and pursuing my artistic vision in Montreal. After only one year here, it is my belief that this is the best city in the developed world.


This blog is named in honour of a famous neon sign hanging in the window of a depanneur on Ave. Du Parc:For me, the constantly stimulating (and often overwhelming) sensation of living in such a diverse city is accurately expressed in this sign. There are twenty-five electrifying hours in every day!

I want to be able to approxmiate this feeling for those of you who don't have the fortune to live here. Through stories and photos, I hope to show the beauty that is unique to Montreal.