How Things Change!

Two months into living in Montréal, I’ve had several people ask me if I miss Halifax. After all, I lived there for 22 years! Yet, generally speaking, the answer is No. But — there’s always a “but”! — in no particular order……

  • I do miss dropping in on my canine nephew Boy-Boy (a.k.a. Jackson) and his mommies.
  • As summer begins, I know without a doubt that I will miss Crystal Crescent Beach. The nearest equivalent here prompted me to remark, “You call that a beach?”
  • And I do miss Friday Night “Whine & Wine” sessions with whom I shall henceforth refer to as Tarzana.

Other than that, no, not really. For instance, back in Halifax, I wouldn’t have done what I’m doing right now: I took public transportation to go to another part of town (the Village) to have coffee and connect via wireless Internet to write in this blog. That there’s a gay village here and not in Halifax isn’t why I wouldn’t do something similar in Halifax. It’s just that, with a 8- or 9-minute headway for the metro, it’s super easy to go from uptown northwest of the mountain to the east end of downtown, as it doesn’t take outrageously longer than by car, not to mention that it’s a lot cheaper considering how gas peaked at $1.43,4 last week and parking on the street has to be paid until 9:00 pm on weekdays. Even on a Monday night like tonight, which is mild but on-and-off rainy, people are definitely out of hibernation and walking about. Being surrounded by that kind of activity is what always drew me to Montréal, even if it’s not as “wow” as it was for me initially. Now it’s more about comfortably being, which in my mind is a different and more nuanced notion than being comfortable.

Indeed, things change over time, as do plans and perceptions. A few don’t, though. My dwelling is much as I long imagined and in some ways better. What I didn’t see coming is that there would be a roommate with me in Montréal, and no, here I’m not referring to Esposo. As I told many friends and colleagues at work, the move here would not have been as successful had Cleopatrick not been there. And we’ve agreed that until Esposo is able to move in, Cleopatrick will live here, too — at first part-time, although eventually full-time as he gets his footing back in Montréal. I have to admit that I very much like having him around. We lived together before in the early ’90s in relatively tight quarters, back when we were together, and like with the Queen of Sheba, we didn’t get in each other’s way and still don’t. It’s not easy to find someone like that, and I think it gets harder with age as we get more settled in our ways. But for me, the current arrangement with Cleopatrick works perfectly: he does the lion’s share of the cooking and cleaning, at which I’m horrible (especially the latter), and he pays for some food and stuff which amounts to way less than half the rent since he’s putting in his fair share in kind.

I also didn’t anticipate the time-consuming complications resulting from Québec bureaucracy, let alone the bumpy first two weeks courtesy of Bell. Nor did I know that two months starting from the move until now would be unusually busy time at the day job. I’ve put in way more overtime than I care to think about and been asked to participate in peripheral projects I knew nothing about before leaving Halifax. Regrettably that’s been a setback for the seemingly endless to-do list outside the day job. And one change I really didn’t expect, which I only learned about last Friday, is that The Woman is being promoted (deservingly) and will no longer be my boss. Hers will be big shoes to fill and I’ll miss working with her, for while she can be demanding, she is irreproachably fair and the furthest thing from a micro-manager.

Of course, as recently as a year ago, I wouldn’t have believed you if you had told me that I would be married, let alone to a beautiful, tall, long-haired Mexican who absolutely rocks my world ♥♪♫♥, which would then lead me to enrol in Spanish classes some 15 months later. Exactly a year ago, I hadn’t unequivocally decided to move to Montréal, although I had been thinking about it for a very long time and finally convinced myself to take the plunge through a five-part series of blog posts later in June of last year. The only thing I knew is that since I turned 40, I’d been itching for change. And indeed, after a rather long stagnant period, how I made sure to change just about everything!

{1} Thought on “How Things Change!

  1. Awwww…we miss you too! Just the other day we thought about inviting you over for a bbq. I’m going to try to call you this weekend! It’s been so long!

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