far too much writing, far too many photos

runswithscissors


Friday, January 27, 2006

[continued from entry of January 25]

The date:

Three or so months back, I received an email from a friend telling me about a woman she'd connected with at a seminar in Montreal, a native Montrealer. In one of their conversations, my friend mentioned she knew someone who really enjoyed the city, a charming, brilliant, hilarious male who intended a return visit north of the border sometime soon. The Montreal woman -- M., let's call her -- suggested giving me her email address, saying she'd be happy to connect, maybe get together for coffee. No pressure of any kind, no agenda apart from two nice people linking up.

A few days after receiving that note, I sent a short email saying hello, mentioning I was writing pursuant to M.'s conversation with our mutual friend, saying I intended to be in Montreal after the turn of the year. The response: silence. No answer. Nothing, not a peep.

Weeks passed, a month, two months slipped by. Until December, when a note appeared in my virtual mailbox -- from M., it turned out. Saying hello, inviting further contact. Not long after, I returned stateside, we spoke by phone, agreed to get together when I made the trek north.

That trek happened last weekend. We spoke after my arrival on Thursday, arranged to meet up for dinner the following evening, She'd swing by and pick me up at six, we'd take it from there.

And so it was that a week ago, seven days almost exactly to the hour, I found myself in a BMW, being driven through Montreal's nighttime streets. Next to an interesting, attractive woman, on the way to a meal.

We drove to one of the city's Friday night main drags, M. turned down a driveway, nosed the car down an alley and into a small private parking lot belonging to a friend. (It's good to be connected.) A thick sheet of ice covered the lot, we joined hands for mutual support, shuffled slowly out to the street.

Holiday lights shone out from front windows along the avenue. Our feet navigated snow and ice encrusted sidewalks, taking us into a Thai restaurant, where a young woman guided us to a window table. The only other diners sat at the neighboring window table, the hour being early for a Friday night (one of the ways Montreal reminds me of Madrid).

The restaurant: large, strange (a variation on the tiki look predominated, all chairs featured faux leopard skin fabric). The wait staff were almost exclusively young, pretty Asian women, the food turned out to be pretty damn good. Conversation hit a speed bump or two as dinner got underway, then recovered, cruised along from there. When we pulled on warm coats and headed back out into the cold, diners sat at most tables, the atmosphere buzzed with conversation and the aromas of good food.

I suggested stopping somewhere for an after-dinner cup of, er, something, leading to a second window table, this one in a large café. Cappucino. Conversation. Another cappucino. More conversation. She hiked off to the use the facilities, on the trip back noticed a display case featuring sweet stuff. She mentioned one tempting cake in particular, did a pretty good sales job. Next thing I knew, a waitress had brought the single largest slab of chocolate mousse cake that I'd seen in years, maybe decades. I took a taste, banking on my usual discipline and disinclination toward sweets to keep me on the path of righteousness. Turned out to be so good my hand and fork began acting of their own free will, the cake disappearing in next to no time, me scraping away at the plate when the last bits had vanished, stubbornly searching for the final remaining microns.

M. began pooping out, we called it a night. During the ride to the hotel, we talked about possibly hooking up again before I bolted on Sunday, left it to be decided the next day, said good-night.

Nice woman. Great smile. (Looks like Jodie Foster when she smiles, now that I think about it.)

Anyway.

End of day 2.

[continued in next entry]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Late January, northern Vermont:




España, te echo de menos.

rws 5:44 PM [+]
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BLATHERINGS

August 2001
September 2001
October 2001
November 2001
December 2001
January 2002
February 2002
March 2002
April 2002
May 2002
June 2002
July 2002
August 2002
September 2002
October 2002
November 2002
December 2002
January 2003
February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
June 2003
July 2003
August 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
May 2004
June 2004
July 2004
August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
June 2009
July 2009

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


MORE FOCUSED BLATHERINGS


Travels:
London '01
Pamplona
Italy '03
U.K. '03
Sevilla
Casablanca
Stoke-on-Trent
Barcelona
Québec/Ottawa
Boston/Lisbon/Madrid
Italy '04
Montréal
La Sierra

Events:
Madrid -- arrival
9/11
Emergency Room I
Holidays 2001
Holidays 2002
Holidays 2003
Holidays 2004
Holidays 2005
A neighbor's passing
Madrid -- March 11 bombings
  and aftermath
Emergency Room II
Israeli friend/Madrid Marathon
Madrid -- Royal Wedding
The DELE exam

GONE, a novel:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10

THE BASTARD CHILDREN OF
JOE ROCCO, a novella:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3

BURBANK SHRUGGED,
a screenplay:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3
-- Part 4

Short stories:
Murphy's Wife
Another Autumn
La Queja de Una
  Hermanastra Muy Conocida

Autobiography
-- Personal History
-- Hormones On Parade
-- Accidents, Random Mishaps,
    Personal Problems

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


OTHER SOURCES OF WHOLESOME ENTERTAINMENT

People/Weblogs:
dooce
foxvox
fudge it
fear not
rebekka
bookslut
802online
idle words
madhaiku
wockerjabby
grow-a-brain
rebel market
letting me be
out and about
kung fu grippe
fanatical apathy
baghdad burning
wfuv's music blog
kexp's music blog
mimi smartypants
between the miles
just a hippie gypsy
the impossible cool
tomato can brushes
vermont homestead
sugar mountain farm

Good Clean Fun:
gizmodo
futurismic
postsecret
dave barry
human clock
mcsweeney's
spaceweather
book-a-minute
internet archive
self-portrait day
my cat hates you
out of context quotes
surrealist compliment
  generator
strindberg and helium

Makin' Musical Whoopee:
last fm
stereo8
pandora
soma fm

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


ABOUT RWS/CONTACT





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