By EDWARD M. EVELD /
Even if waiters automatically hand you the English version of the menu, hearing the language and sampling the Gallic energy make it almost like being in Paris.
To me, the whole point of going to Montreal is to swim in French.
That's not to say you must know how to speak French; it's really more fun if you don't. Better to let the French swirl around you and occasionally throw in a few easy exclamations en francais.
In Montreal everybody speaks French. The menus are in French, signs are in French -- even those scrolling emergency freeway signs. But no one expects a French conversation out of visitors.
"Bon soir," you say to the desk clerk at the hotel. "Good night, sir," he responds with a kind smile but serious eyebrows, telling you in not so many words that you can cut it out now.
What Montreal offers visitors is a French immersion, as much language and culture crammed into as few days as you want to spend, just 60 miles from the New York border.
The issue of language, of course, is a serious, ongoing dialectic in Quebec. Passions have calmed since Quebec residents voted in 1995 against separating from Canada, although by the narrowest of margins.
While I was there this summer, a proposal surfaced to introduce English instruction in first grade rather than in fourth.
What's amazing is that Quebec's French heritage can survive at all, surrounded by English Canada and the American juggernaut to the south. Montreal promotes itself as the largest French-speaking city outside Paris, which makes for a great, close-to-home opportunity for U.S. travelers.
All Montreal travelers must make a pilgrimage to Vieux-Montreal, the oldest part of the city. That's okay, filled as it is with cultural and historical highlights that hark back to Old World France.
But I also knew the place would be sticky with tourists, Americans and Germans and others, all yammering away in their native, non-French tongues.
So I decided on the Quartier Latin, the Latin Quarter. I'm thinking cafes, where stylish women tug on short skirts as they take a seat next to men with impregnable five o'clock shadows, everybody smoking like crazy.
I ducked into the nearest subway stop and in a few minutes popped out in the right neighborhood. Clever thing, the Metro.
Immediately I saw two older men, each hugging a brown grocery bag with a half-dozen baguettes jutting out the top. Cafes, indeed, lined the streets, and their patios _ front, back and side _ were packed with Montrealers not about to miss a flicker of sunshine before the steel jaws of winter tightened again. I didn't find an exact re-creation of the scene I had in mind, but everybody was smoking like crazy.
It was then that I recalled a colleague's comment, that a disproportionate number of people on the streets of Montreal would be noticeably good-looking. That seemed unlikely, but as I strolled and stared, I found some truth to it _ and if not necessarily beautiful, at least quite nicely turned out.
Even a squeegee boy _ one of those lads who rush into the street to wash car windows for tips _ looked fashionably put-together in his grunginess: T-shirt and shorts appropriately tattered, shiny black rubber boots that reached his knees, a spiky bracelet on one wrist and a silver chain on the other, and a hooded sweat shirt tied around his waist. His hair was a long, wavy-blond Mohawk. Premeditated? I think so.
I stopped for a bite at a sandwich shop along Rue Ste.-Catherine. The server, who chattered in French at the next table, turned around and immediately switched to English to take my order. "Cinquante-trois," I said, indicating the number of the boeuf sandwich I wanted.
"Fifty-three," he responded in English as he pointed to it on the menu for additional verification. When my food arrived, he at least offered "Bon appetit!" rather than "Enjoy!"
I came upon Square-St. Louis, a leafy spot with a fountain in the middle and a low, wrought-iron fence. I was not happy that the sign said "Square-St. Louis," square sounding suspiciously English. Turns out square is an okay French word, too. I should have known: The Quebec government is adamant about French signage. For instance, the red, octagonal signs at intersections here say "Arret" rather than "Stop." Even in Paris they read "Stop."
On the lawn next to the fountain, a 30-ish man and his two young children were tossing a miniature football and calling out "un, deux, trois _ hut!" before launching passes. Nearby, an older couple playing harpsichords entertained a small crowd gathered on benches in the shade.
My tour was going well. Except for "hut," which I'm not sure qualifies, I hadn't heard a word of English in quite some time.
Meanwhile, I was discovering what great street life Montreal offered. Just off the square, on Rue Prince-Arthur, I stopped to watch an artist whose work was attracting a crowd.
I envisioned Impressionist landscapes, but the fellow didn't even have a paintbrush. No beret, either. He wore a mask over his mouth. His hand darted among cans of spray paint as he created a cosmic still life of colorful planets and far-off stars. Magnifique!
It occurred to me that Montreal reminded me of New Orleans. That makes sense historically, but also in the look and feel of the two cities: the thrown-open windows on cafes and clubs; the street theater; the late, late night life.
The connection came to me as I walked through a neighborhood called Plateau Mont-Royal. Maybe it was the ironwork on the narrow, three-story townhouses up and down the side streets. Curving exterior staircases gave the neighborhood that French Quarter charm.
Charming in summer, at least. Come winter, I'd like to see the statistics on residential mishaps attributed to icy metal stairs.
I picked a place called L'Express for dinner, and I could tell right away this was a good choice. The door on the men's room displayed a big "H" for hommes rather than an "M." Not only that, the burgundy walls, black-and-white tile and a giant front window for people-watching gave me that French bistro feel.
Best of all, the menu was all in French. I scanned the offerings, with some confidence about their meanings, but the server hardly waited two minutes before returning with an English version. Interesting that it had no prices on it. My lamb entree was excellent.
I stayed at the Hotel Versailles on Rue Sherbrooke, within walking distance of the Musee des Beaux-Arts de Montreal. This Museum of Fine Arts is a must, with a collection that includes French masters.
I happily happened upon "From Renoir to Picasso," a touring exhibition from Paris' Musee de l'Orangerie. The 81 works were wonderful, from Renoir's paintings of son Claude to Andre Derain's Harlequin and Pierrot to Maurice Utrillo's Paris scenes to Picasso's large bathers. All in all, a nice big dose of French culture.
As I expected, the French spell was broken when I finally began my tour of Vieux-Montreal.
There, among the gray stone buildings from the 1700s, below Montreal's Hotel-de-Ville _ the City Hall building with the French Second Empire design that appears to have been airlifted from Paris _ is the wide plaza called Place Jacques-Cartier.
Artists, flower vendors and outdoor cafes were tending to hundreds of tourists. A street performer with a silly unicycle routine addressed the crowd only in English. I decided to walk across the plaza and drown my sorrows at Ben & Jerry's.
At least two places in the old city cheered me up. One was Pointe-a-Calliere, one of the best city history museums anywhere, on the spot where the city began in 1642. A multimedia show unfolded above old city ruins, with video screens and suspended images moving up, down and sideways as characters told the story of Montreal.
The other French-infused place was Notre Dame Basilica, a twin-towered, neo-Gothic structure built in 1829. The intricate if overdone interior seemed Old World: the finely sculpted and painted woodwork and statues, the ceiling of gold stars amid a blue background, the rose windows and French stained glass.
I was a little surprised to be charged a $2 (Canadian) admission fee but was also happy the brochure was folded so the English version, a particularly garbled translation, was on the reverse side.
In old Montreal, as in other parts of the city, I saw more empty storefronts and a louer _ for rent _ signs than seemed healthful. Quebec's politics have a way of dampening the economy, although the city has supposedly been on the upswing with the quieting of separatist sentiment.
Plenty of panhandlers were working the subway stops and many street corners. One fellow, wearing a stunningly retro green plaid suit, told me he needed some change for the Metro.
"Please," he implored in English. "I'm asking you, as a citizen of this country!"
It was the first time anyone had mistaken me for a Canadian, although obviously not a Quebecer. Little did he know: He might have gotten some change out of me, here in Quebec, had he used the mother tongue.
If you go
GETTING THERE: Canadian authorities will ask for proof of U.S. citizenship: a passport or a certified copy of your birth certificate plus photo identification.
STAYING THERE: Hotel Versailles, 1808 Rue Sherbrooke Ouest, (514) 933-8111, (800) 361-7199. Excellent location in one of Montreal's tonier neighborhoods with above-average accommodations. A standard double room runs about $165 Canadian, or about $110 U.S., depending upon the exchange rate. Under the same management is Chateau Versailles, across the street at 1659 Rue Sherbrooke Ouest, where rooms cost about $120 U.S. and include continental breakfast.
Holiday Inn Montreal Midtown, 420 Rue Sherbrooke Ouest, (514) 842-6111, (800) 387-3042. A double room ranges from $80 to $147 U.S., depending on the season.
Auberge du Vieux-Port, 97 Rue de la Commune Est, (514) 876-0081, (888) 660-7678. A 27-room inn in a 19th-century building in the city's old port area. Rooms range from $94 to $178 U.S., depending on the season and accommodations. Price includes a full breakfast.
TOURING THERE: Mont-Royal. The mountain in the middle of the city is one of Montreal's main characters and worth your time.
To explore Mont-Royal Park, walk the winding road to Lac-aux-Castors (Beaver Lake), a summertime playground for city residents, then continue up to the Grand Chalet. The terrace at the chalet provides a gorgeous view of the downtown skyscrapers and, beyond, the St. Lawrence River.
Nearby, you can take a long series of staircases straight down the "mountain" _ a modest mountain at 700 feet _ in 10 or 15 minutes. Don't try ascending this way.
Montreal Botanical Garden, 4101 Rue Sherbrooke Est. The serene and stunning 180-acre setting is spoiled only by the jutting appendage of nearby Olympic Stadium. My favorite spot was the Chinese Garden with its "Dream Lake" waterfall, bridge, terraces, footpaths, grotto and tower. Also stop by the Insectarium to see the exhibit of giant tropical butterflies. Adult admission is about $6.35 U.S. (514) 872-1400.
Clock Tower. The city's Vieux-Port, the old port, has plenty of distractions, including an IMAX cinema, science center and boat rides on the St. Lawrence River. But walk to the far east end of the area to the 1922 clock tower, or tour de l'horloge, and climb the 192 steps to the top. (You get to see the giant inner workings on the way up.) From here you look down on the roiling waters of the St. Lawrence on one side and on the other a rising panorama from the port to downtown to Mont-Royal in the background. Very cool, and it is free.
Notre Dame Basilica, 11 Rue Notre-Dame Ouest, is big and breathtaking. It was designed by James O'Donnell, who was so moved by the experience that he converted to Catholicism after the building was completed. The basilica's hours change with the season. Admission is about $1.35 U.S., and tours in English are available. (514) 842-2925
Pointe-a-Calliere, 350 Place Royale, an archaeology and history museum on the site where Ville-Marie, the settlement's original name, began in 1642. Excavations unearthed artifacts from Scottish merchants to French trappers to American Indians. The multimedia history show is lively and educational. For hours and prices call (514) 872-9150.
Musee des Beaux-Arts, 1380 Rue Sherbrooke Ouest, is the museum in Montreal you shouldn't miss. Exhibits are displayed in the fine arts museum's original 1912 building and in the 1991 annex across the street. (514) 285-2000
FESTIVALS: Your visit might coincide with one of Montreal's many festivals, such as the Snow Festival, La Fete des Neiges, in February, (514) 872-4537; the International Jazz Festival in late June and early July, (514) 871-1881; or the Just for Laughs Festival, Festival Juste pour Rire, a comedy fest in July, (514) 845-3155.
FOR MORE INFORMATION: Contact Tourisme Quebec at (800) 363-7777, or check the Web site at http:// www.tourism-montreal.org.
The Kansas City Star