Bromont 02-2022
Sun:
Getting out, oy, as usual.
Uneventful drive in the KIA SUV rental.
At Canadian Customs I forgot where we live:
“Where are you coming from?”
“Westport.”
(Sht, why do I do that? Where do we live, again? West- something.)
Same thing happened in Nova Scotia. Same question, same wrong answer from my mouth.
“Does their mother know they are with you?”
<<Elle est morte.>>
“Oh, ok.”
<< Dommage. Huit ans.>>
“Ok. Enjoy your stay with us.”
Mon.:
Buffet brkfst at hotel.
At the pancake station:
Danielle: “Can I have a crepe?”
Pancake Lady: <<Quoi?>>
D: “Do you make crepes?”
<<We have a-sev-e-ral sauc-es ->>
D: “Crepes!”
PL: <<?!>>
Waitress: “what is it? Een English?”
Me: “Crepe and Crêpe! It’s the same!”
<all laughing>
PL: <<Ah, c’est la même chose: Crêpe and Cake!>>
Me: <<Auugh!>>
Danielle got her crepe after all; they call them pancakes.
Shuttle bus to mtn., ski passes, rentals (poles for D, skis for B, helmets for all. Hard to keep it all straight), ski school check-in. Oy, so complicated. Ran 8 min late for 1pm leçon.
The kids completed their leçon, instructor was pleased, as were B and D. Danielle expresses sadness that ski vacas feel like so much work (“I don’t even like skiing that much”), and feels guilty for all of the above. But I see her smiling when she skis. Benjamin too, when he is satisfied with his performance, and accomplishes getting down a challenging slope.
Hot tub après ski. There are 4 tubs in a cluster on the rear deck. I said, “this is the life. If that post were not blocking the sunset, this would be the life.” The hot tub is more of a lukewarm tub. Danielle: “it just needs to get a few degrees hotter, then this will be the life!” A nice couple relinquished their tub and offered it to us – ours apparently was known to be on the blink. Some 12 yr old snots came by, jumped in the other tub, remarked, “this sucks!” And jumped out. It took them 8 seconds to figure out what took us about 15 minutes.
Researched intensely and, eventually, drove around (gingerly) in search of an eatery that was not a brew pub. Had a promising lead on an Italian joint that turned out to be a specialty shop. With the hour advancing, settled on Hyperlodge.
Tues.:
Slept late again, took the KIA to local breakfast joint, super menu (en Français) with omelets, skillet dishes and mimosa (tho’ tempted, did not partake). The all-too-familiar experience of getting stuck on the snowy hill back to the hotel revealed that our SUV was not all-wheel drive, as advertised (and requested). An attempt to back down the road was interrupted by driver’s failure to negotiate a turn, yielding an even worse stuckness. Naturally, this occurrence was 40 minutes before the kids’ lesson (we had already gotten a tongue-lashing for our tardiness, the day prior). Waited about 30 seconds and a friendly Quebecois named Simon offered to pull us out. Tow truck? Winch? Nah, this is Canada. Simon had in the back of his SUV all that was needed for he to hitch us up and pull us clear (including snow tires, as is the law in Quebec. Wish I knew that). Another helpful Canadian stopped by and /commiserated/ with Simon. All that was required of me was to ride the break and keep the kids out of the way of both vehicles. I wish he had waited for me to take the car out of park.
The other fellow drove the KIA to the base of the hill. It is Canada, and thereby fine to let any stranger drive your car. I took over and gingerly followed Simon to the mtn. parking lot, where we loaded our ski gear into his car and he drove us back up the hill (we had to go back for Danielle’s meds; that is why we were headed back in the first place) in time for our shuttle to the mtn. We expressed our thanks and said our goodbyes. Next problem: the shuttle will not be driving up the hill due to the slipppery snow. Wish they had told us sooner. We carried our gear down the steps to the hotel’s lower lot (wish we had parked there). Getting to the lesson 5 min late was a remarkable feat. Off they went – and off I went to explore some other parts of the mountain.
But first, I went inside to put my boots on. I held the door for a fellow on crutches.
<<Merci, vous êtes très gentil>>
I started to say, << de rien,>> but went with, <<Bienvenue>> Both he and his companion smiled and laughed, <<Oui! Bienvenue!>> So, YouTube was correct: “Your welcome” in Québécois is different than in continental French.
It snowed a steady 1 cm/hr through mid-afternoon before tapering off. Met a nice fellow and his granddaughter on the lift, we spoke in combination of French and English. She goes to high school in NY. He said Bromont has more snow than Sutton.
I skiied 3 runs (including what passes for double black – narrow, bumps, short) before picking up the kids. We tried the gondola for a change. Gondolier asked, <Combien?>> I said, <<trois>> He (with a grin): <<No problemo!>> Everyone is a comedian.
Lunch at top of mtn. Bromont has lodges in spitting distance of every lift, top and bottom. This one has a contemporary yet warm design with lots of light. Serves mostly coffee, pastries, and lots of alcohol. We had soup and fruit cups. Danielle had the one kind of sandwich available (three guesses). Benjamin objected to our eating there. At least the view was nice.
A final run together, the three of us from the top, at 3:30pm, the wind really kicking up at the summit. We could just stand in place and the wind would push us along at a remarkably good clip. Hard not to break out into peals of laughter.
Room service for dinner. No table, just trays. If we ordered poutine, do we really need two additional sides of fries? We left them in a giant pile.
Wed.:
Breakfast at the hotel, in the service of time-saving, and my new driving phobia. Brunch closes a half-hour earlier on weekdays than weekends. Just tell me the rules. The lady told us to “eat quickly,” which got Benjamin a bit spun up. I explained that she was blowing smoke and they would not kick us out (he: “how do you know?”)
I learned why no one understands me saying, <<Lundi à Vendredi.>> “Lundi” in Québécois is pronounced something like, “Lunzdi.” Must recherche.
Booted up in hotel. Our skis waiting on-mountain where we had left them, with time for several runs before lessons. So fun to ski next to the kids. Danielle was looking pretty tired by our last AM run, but said she was up for the lesson. Guillaume’s gray-bearded Dad is also an instructor, which is pretty cute (“he’s a good boy”).
Took the lift up with G, B, and D before splitting up. Moment of discomfort as G asked how we like staying at “the castle,” which I took to be a derisive ski-instructor term for the hotel where rich people stay. No, it is merely English for “Château,” which, for some reason, I always thought meant “house.”
Tried twice to follow Guillaume’s directions to backside of the mountain, ended up first on left side, then right. Two teens were studying the map by the chairlift, animatedly debating in Québécois, and one suddenly says, <eh, wat deefak?> My thoughts exactly. Skiied mass blue glades and practiced carving on the blue and green cruisers. Skiied into woods that turned out to be specifically for randonee/telemark, got stuck and fell over.
Arrived at base 20 min before end of lesson, enough time to buy a pair of glove liners (D had borrowed mine). Approaching me from behind, Guillaume caught me dancing to Def Leppard (“Nice moves”). B and D went all over the mountain. I could see Benjamin enjoyed himself. I am proud of him, and Danielle too – it was a lot of skiing for her. Lunch at base lodge.
A final run after lunch. Windy, getting colder.
We got separated, but Benjamin was fine with that.
Fielded another call from car rental. Apparently, they feel terrible about renting me a 2WD vehicle and telling me it was AWD. I told them I feel even more terrible about it, since they put my and my kids’ lives at risk.
Attempted for fifteen minutes to de-ice the vehicle before taking it as a sign and deciding to stay in for dinner. Had another iteration of same 5 items constituting every meal (still tasty). Swapped usual beer for tea, having had one at lunch. Benjamin and I played pool. Our rules: Winner is whomever sinks the cue or eight ball the least number of times.
Talked to A— for 2.5 hrs, probably the longest phone call of my life.
Thursday:
Skiied backside. strixly black and double black.
Lunch at cafeteria (save $CAN).
Back to hotel, changed, drove to Montreal. Flat, straight route 10 East for 70 minutes.
Entered Montreal via magnificent Champlain Bridge (turns out: Montreal is an island). First stop (recommended by Guillaume) was Oratory of St. Joseph – an impressive engineering project itself, its foundation literally bolted to the bedrock of Mount Royal. You can view part of the structure’s foundation, adjacent to the crypt of the mission’s founder (has a real “On this rock I build my Church,” feel). St. Joseph is a multi-faceted patron, evidenced by the several crypt shrines, each with a different theme.
Danielle said it was a lot of regard for “some random Jewish guy” who was probably Jesus’s real father. But she was most amused by the mock-Hebrew depicted in the diorama of a young Yehoshua holding court in the Temple, the Kohen Gadol and Pharisees looking on, intrigued and impressed (the High Priest is additionally chagrined, if not gay, his hand against his sternum), Miriam and Yoseph kvelling in the background. D also liked the religious figurines.
No Catholic shrine would be complete without a Reliquary, and St. Joseph does not disappoint: The heart of the Oratory’s canonized founder is on display in a steel-doored alcove.
We found the Basilica but, to Benjamin’s and my disappointment, somehow missed the dome. Stood on the terrace and took in the Montreal sunset.
Made it down Mt Royal in our 2WD vehicle, using engine braking, without mishap.
Drove toward Museum of Contemporary Art and parked in nearby Complexe Desjardins. Museum had a handful of open exhibits – experimental audio-visuals, one to a Kanye West song that stuck uncomfortably. Danielle starting to get cranky; we should have taken snacks. She was looking forward to the mango and green tea ice cream at Sota BBQ described by Guillaume (fun fact: Sota is a Talmudic tractate and, ironically, arguably the least appetizing next to Ta’anit and Yoma. Online reviews of Sota were mixed and it was not close by. We walked to nearby Sesame, an Asian fusion place which had both green tea and mango ice cream. We sat near the window and watched as acrobats, clad in yellow skydyving suits, lept off a platform into presumably freezing water, to the sound of high-bpm dance music. Naturally, I planned all of this.
Listened to Star Wars vs Star Trek vlogs on the drive back.
Fri.
Slept late.
Awoke to lovely text from A–, apologizing for monopolizing our phone call. I replied that it was quite alright as it has been said recently that I talk too much, and so our chat gave me a chance to listen, for a change. She sent an image of a portfolio headshot, looking tough and alluring, a combination of bedroom and switchblade eyes in 4:1 ratio (she said it was supposed to be 1:4).
Brkfast at usual place. Managed to spend even more than yesterday, despite my vegan choice.
Met Guillaume just in time for the kids’ final, two-hour, lesson. I did a lap from the top, a single black, then went to the side for 2 double black woods, Boston and Pembroke. Battered, did another black from the top and met the kids, said our goodbyes to Guillaume (gave him his well-deserved tip),
and took a final run together (I ducked into a last woodsy siding halfway down). Lunch, hotel, hot tub with Benjamin taking in opalescent sunset over ridge adjacent to Mt. Brome.
mhanaupsychmd 