Like what I did there with the title? It was a clue… see I went to the french part… again (there’s a link to the first time in case you missed it)… so I’m allowed to do that… see…
If you need proof that I went I don’t blame you… so here it is:
Is that proof enough for you? Good. I mean look at all that time between those tweets, I must’ve been gone forever.
Let me start from the beginning just so you don’t feel lost. I finished editing the weeks AFO… posted it and then all in one swift slow-motion motion I hopped on my bike and started off to the Bus station (South Station in Boston). I bought my ticket and then came the waiting. While seated I noticed a homeless man walking passed with a particularly down-on-his-luck kind of a stride. As this gentleman passed I noticed his pants were particularly low and that his ass was particularly visible. I thought to myself, “this trip is going to be interesting”. I made the bus and after I spent the night at my grandparents house in Nashua, where I met up with my uncle, Bob, and my brother,Bryce, my grandparents were there too but they weren’t going on the trip. After much catching up we all decided to hit the hay at midnight. Now I went to bed at midnight but I didn’t get to sleep until after three, I blame my weird Youtube influenced lifestyle. The next morning came too early at 6. After breakfast and a shower we decided to embark, my uncle drove and we hit the border in record time. In tradition of commuting to Canada we did encounter roadkill. It was a deer that was dispatched with over about 50 feet of road. A little bit beyond there was a truck with some people butchering the rest of the deer for the meat (I’m guessing food, but they could’ve been doing something more sinister but lets not jump to conclusions). While on the topic of animal and death lemme introduce you to Bryce. One of the car ride topics was how to dispatch certain animals. Bryce brought up a book he has, sort of an army survival guide, that details how to catch and kill every furry forest creature you could ever care to. Lets talk beaver (we’re gonna do that a lot) apparently to kill a beaver what you do is grab it by the tail (don’t ask how… I have no idea) and pick it up. Bryce told us the guide says to slowly wave the varmint around into a sense of calm. See beaver have these teeth that can chew through wood and the object is to keep it from chewing through yours. Once it is rocked into calm the guide says, no joke, to then bash it against a tree. BASH IT AGAINST A TREE. Well that’s good to know. I’ve sidetracked enough though let me jump to the border crossing/jump the border.
Passports ready? Yeah. Get them out. Ok. This was a pretty uneventful border crossing, just the standard no’s at the right time and yes’s at the others. We were going up to visit our cousins (just like last time… seriously… it’s all here). My Cousin Catherine had warned us that Canada is gray this time of year… everything is gray… just plain gray. She was right. On the other side of the border everything just got gray (it didn’t really but lets just say it did). We finally arrived in Drummondville, Québec after ~4.5 hours. We met with Catherine and then went to lunch at her aunt’s, Françoise, and her cousin was there, Valérie, and later her uncle, François, showed up (what were their parents thinking? two children with almost identical names… How Bizarre). Ate some awesome spaghetti toured her house (she has a pool table, a ping pong table, and a foosball table HA BISKY!!!).
After Lunch Catherine took us on a tour of Old Drummondville. We saw some graves and such and went on a long walk. Out of nowhere she has us climb a fence and check out an outdoor theater thing. I was really confused, especially when she started talking about a legion of lumberjacks. See over a thick french accent Legend sounds a lot like legion and so while I was picturing a legion of lumberjacks making deals with the devil she was actually talking about this. I think… then again maybe I’m just lost in translation and way off. Beyond this theater was a huge town. It consisted of at least 75 framed buildings of a recreated village. All empty and all with intact windows (weird). There was no security and yet no beer bottles or graffiti. This blew my mind, how can this exist? It was huge, and completely empty… Amazing. We then walked back to the car. On the topic of graffiti I did see a lot on the bridges and the sides of building (not in the village… still confuses the hell out of me) My favorite graffiti was in English. I don’t know what the french graffiti said but if the English graffiti was any indication… they sure hate the police.
The best anti police piece of artwork that I saw simply said “suck you police”. I love that shit… it’s like when Americans get tattoos of Chinese characters (Daniel Tosh has an awesome joke pertaining to that… and he rocks… so if you don’t know of him… go forth and find him). Oh well that’s enough of that old Drummondville thing.
We ate at LeMaire and Bryce popped his poutine cherry… mmmmmm… say that with me just once… popped his poutine cherry… doesn’t that make you want to regurgitate something that oddly enough looks stunningly like poutine “ça va faire une maudite poutine.” This place was pretty cool though, makes there own cheese curd right there. And because Drummondville is small Catherine knew one of the people behind the scenes making curd. We waved, he waved back… so we waved again… Then we left.
That night Catherine arranged that we would go to a bar and watch Saturday night hockey. See in Canada hockey reigns supreme. Bigger than Football (Probably because Canadian football is fucked up… their football has 3 downs and the feild is 10 yards longer… whaaaaaaaaaaat?)She ultimately determined that it’d be easier to stay at her house and get beer from the local convenient store. This idea was awesome because the local convenient store offers a “make your own six pack” of local small brewery beers. I let my uncle and brother pick the beer as I’m not the most sophisticated drinker… and I don’t know french. At one point my uncle turned to me and said, “can you grab me another box”. This came after my cousin grabbed a 12 bottle mix pack, my brother made a six pack, and my uncle had already made a six pack. We ended up leaving with 4 six packs and a 12 pack… all was small brews… tasty. It was the Montreal Canadians vs. the Tampa Bay Lightning (I didn’t even know they had a hockey team… and apparently the are really good). The Sunny-Floridian-Based-Lightning won 3-1 over the Cold-Comfortable-
On-The-Ice-Canadians… WTF!!! Interuption time… we were discussing the french rolling r sound… and my uncle said it’s like the elephants sub sonic call. I said if it’s subsonic then you cant hear it. He replied with a “you’d have to be there” sort of a face which the thought of has currently has put a smile on mine. After we handed it to the Canadians we watched Bon Cop Bad Cop. This movie, which I need to watch again while sober, apparently highlights the rivalry between the French Canadians and the English Canadians… but like I said… I need to watch it again while sober. That night ended and I found my bed. A makeshift air mattress cushion combination which actually wasn’t that bad. I mean I was a begger so anything was good (and Celine if you’re reading this thank you for the accommodations as always you are a wonderful hostess.)
The next day came at about nine when we embarked on our trip to Montreal. I mean there was breakfast and a shower… but you don’t really care about that do you? So off to Montreal and more graffiti. I think alot of it was sanctioned as it was really intricate and awesome. lime greens have never looked so good on the side of an industrial complex. Mostly tags, no cop hating in Montreal.
Our first stop was Catherines apartment, which conveniently enough is across the street from her school Université de Montréal (shit apparently there’s a funny “e” in Montréal… oh well… no sense in changing the rest now). From what she said ~40.000 kids go there (see that period there… that’s a french thing). 
Catherine told me that the students affectionately call that tower the phallus. After dropping Catherines stuff off at her apartment (which had oranges by the way) we headed to the Eaton Center via the Montréal metro. Awesome rig they got up there. Maybe I’m biased as Boston’s T is a piece of S but it really is nice. Expensive at $2.75 a trip (but it’s Canadian Dollars which is fake money anyway right? just kidding…) The whole system is on rubber tires, so although it bounces a little it doesn’t shake, or make more noise than a large train barreling through tunnels should. They do an awesome thing too, they put a bar in the middle of the entry way by the door, which if you’re from Boston and have ever been stuck in the middle of a crowded train’s doorway when the train suddenly stops then you’d understand it’s awesomeness/How HA BISKY!!! it’d be (while getting Poutine Catherine asked me what HA BISKY!!! meant… I laughed as it was all going according to plan.) The Wonderful thing about the Metro is that it connects to the underground, A whole city that never has to step outside (Brilliant or a Bad idea… you be the judge, but remember it gets cold… and icy up in them thar hills).
We arrived at the Eaton Center and went to see the Bodies exposition… Odd… I had read a little about this Plastination Process and so when I was looking at the sculptures (for lack of a better word) they moved. Seriously just the footsteps around gave enough movement to have tendons shaking. Kinda disconcerting, knowing that at one point that statue was a living breathing human being and now it’s a permanent fixture on exposition. So there was the weird movement but also the things are kinda dusty… as I imagine they’re impossible to clean, and because there not in cases they’re just hanging out in the breeze. All the signs say “please do not touch” but as I said… no cases… you could reach out and touch a prior human… weird. At the end of the exhibit there was a section where they had some organs one could touch if they so chose… I chose to. I held a human lung, which felt more like rubber than plastic. Sorry if you’re feeling queezy, I’ll move on. In the gift shop they were selling little stress toy hearts, and I felt as though they missed the perfect item… a hackysack heart… it’d be brilliant. My idea… back off…
Where to after looking at the innards of human brains and stomachs… food of course. We had decided earlier a trip to Canada without Tim Hortons is no trip we want to go on. So we found the closest one. unfortunately it was in the underground and more of a quick stop that a restaurant, and so it took forever and I couldn’t get soup (I couldn’t get soup dammit!!!). I got a hot chocolate which was the hottest beverage I have ever held. I put my glove on to not burn my hand (they laughed at me… but whose hand wasn’t burnt… mine… muahahahaha), dear God it was hot. We ate outside We wanted to eat outside, but in the length of time it took to obtain our food we had managed to eat most of it before exiting the underground. On the plus side, however, The donut I inhaled was awesome. Thank you Tim Hortons for existing, please find a way to exist in Boston.
After eating we started to walk down to old Montréal, crossing streets and taking names we eventually got to Beaver st. or something. There was a Beaver office building, a beaver food shop, and beaver statues on buildings… weird. On the way we passed through a park that had mini traffic cones in it to warn of small dangers. We eventually got to some cobble stones and decided it was old Montréal. 
We came across La basilique Notre-Dame and it looked so beautiful. High ceilings, gold, and stain glassed windows that God would be proud to see. It truly is a beautiful place to see, in a photo… oh… you think I went inside… no… no I wouldn’t do that… see… This church has a policy where it costs money to go inside. What? All I could think of was Mark 11:12-19 (I didn’t think that actually I thought about the event… but the actual call numbers… dear God no…). I pondered doing God’s work, but ultimately decided he was on his own on that one… I wouldn’t want to be excommunicated after-all. By the way… the guy in the photo is Bryce… Say hello…
Moving on we got to the waterfront and Celine treated us to beavertails (see the beaver theme… weird huh?), basically fried dough with toppings, I got chocolate and banana and it was delicious thanks for asking. We passed by a street performer and decided to pick up a show. He was quite funny and must’ve known like four languages as he kept switching between English, French, and Spanish (fourth was Turkish oddly enough). His thing was juggling fire, eating fire, and swallowing a balloon sword… (what’s with this bizarre theme). Like I said funny and engaging, at one point he advised us that if we saw a sword fly at us to grab a small child to block ourselves… because they heal quickly. 
Did anything else happen on this Montréal excursion… other than Celine wanting to crash a ball… and Bryce buying a Montréal shot glass… I don’t think so. We got back to Celine’s house after brutal traffic and had Pizza. I prefer American Pizza… sorry. By the way, sidetrack, in Québec they have a bunch of pizza shops that say Boston pizza… What is up with that? New York is famous for its pizza, Chicago is famous for its pizza, Boston is not famous for its pizza. Someone is confused up there, the cold must have gotten to them. Okay, sidetrack over, ate the pizza, ate some fries with vinegar, and we prepared to leave. Celine was adamant that we take something for the road, we managed to thwart the attempts, but I had to say “no” to frutopia about a million times. It’s not that I didn’t want it, I did, but I also didn’t want to have to urinate the whole car ride back.
This car-ride back wasn’t as fun as last trips, but it was still amusing. I don’t know if I’m the only one, but I love border crossings. Had a decently long conversation with border patrol. They asked where we live my uncle and brother both live in New Hampshire. I said I live in Boston and their ears perked up. Maybe they used to live there but they sure felt like talking. “What part of Boston?”,”Roxbury”,”So you take the Green Line to *some* stop?”, “No”, “Oh you take the red line?”, “No, wrong bad neighborhood I take the orange line”, “You eat at *some* pizza place?”,”nope”. My uncle said he’d talk to them about New Hampshire but he was afraid that trees are too boring. We were on our way and that about finishes this story I think… God that took too long… Goodnight…
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