To Montreal

A long drive to Montreal, some 800 km away. I'd arranged to stay at the family home of a colleague and said I'd be there in the evening. Highway 17 runs eastwards, north of Toronto, until it meets the Ottawa River. The east bank of the river is Province Quebec, but I would not cross into PQ until I neared Montreal. I saw a Radio Shack store but it was closed for Sunday. The camera batteries had given up the ghost. It figured. Those batteries dated from my previous trip to Nova Scotia, two years before. 

For no reason other than curiosity, I stopped at a roadside flea market. I just wanted to see what kinds of things people threw out. The usual antiques, books, utensils and appliances. 

Ottawa flew by. I remembered it as a pleasant enough capital city but I had no reason to stop this time. 

My colleague's family lived in Dorval, a western suburb of Montreal, where one of Montreal's airports is located. I could hear the planes taking off as I neared it. However there was a pretty lake shore drive with a good view of Lac Saint Louis. The house wasn't too hard to find but nobody was in. So I went looking for dinner. Finally I settled for a Chinese restaurant with a buffet dinner offer. Hot dogs aren't exactly oriental, but the rest of the buffet was reasonable. PQ sales tax is 10%. Petrol prices are also some 20% higher than Ontario. Natives said they were still paying for the roof of the Olympic stadium, started in 1972 and completed at a 500% cost overrun. 

Still nobody at home so I took a nap in the car. Finally, after an hour of waiting, I decided to get the key my colleague had told me about, in the garden shed. It took a bit of effort to find the key in the dark, what with the cobwebs and more trouble finding the door that it fitted, but finally I was in. I rested on the sofa and read. Later another resident came in and showed me my colleague's room. I didn't meet his brother until the next morning.