Celine and Poutine

Last week I ditched my beloved children and husband and spent in six days in Montreal, Canada with one of my dearest friends, E. We’ve been friends for 17 years and have taken many trips together, all of which were fun and marked by our truly impressive ability to get hopelessly lost. Spoiler alert: we got lost on this trip too, so some traditions were built to last.

A lot of our time in Montreal was spent walking around and looking at cool buildings, including the Notre-Dame Basilica. This is the inside of this obviously hideous building:

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We walked in and I reverently whispered “I bet money this is where Celine Dion got married” and, yep, it totally was.

I’m kind of in love with these houses

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We spotted those beauties on our three hour bike tour of Plateau area of Montreal. I highly recommend the tour, especially if your vacation has involved multiple trips to a cheap but tasty bakery in Chinatown.

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On our last night in Montreal, post bike ride, E and I went on a hunt for smoked meat and poutine for dinner as we’d been told that it was a must do. We ended up at a 24 hour poutine place (a concept that I’m sure has made many a drunk person happy, I’m sure) and as we waited for our order, a Celine song started to play on the radio. I felt like had really hit peak Canadian at that moment.

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Pictured: Brisket BLT and poutine with onions, bacon, cheese curds, swiss cheese, and sour cream. Not pictured: my quiet gratitude that I had chosen to wear stretchy pants that day.

My only sadness about this trip is that I failed to meet Justin Trudeau and convince him to annex Minnesota into Canada. That would really have been a terrific souvenir. Alas, my kids had to settle for some Kinder Surprise eggs instead of universal healthcare. Maybe next time.

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