Here I am, on my first morning in Montreal, trying to savor the loveliness of a breakfast with a granola like no other and a delicious cup of coffee, thinking about my excursion for the day (with the young family, to a park) and about the loveliness of this city, and I've got to put all that aside, because I have promised myself (and others) that this would be the day I will finally focus on my book, with an official release date of today. You know the title -- Like a Swallow: Looking Back at a Polish Childhood.
What lead me to imagine that a memoir of growing up in postwar Poland was a fine idea? Why did it take so long to finish it? And finally -- what am I trying to sort out in the pages of this book? I addressed some of these questions at the book launch tonight (from Montreal, of all places, though no, not in French!). But there is one overriding theme for me, one big reason for putting all my recollections down on paper: I want people to let go of preformed opinions of how life proceeded in Eastern Bloc countries after the war. Nothing is as straightforward as you may wish it to be. Here, for example, is my childhood. Little about it felt drab, dank, dark, or without hope. Yes, it's just one story of how life unfolded under so called communism in Poland, and, too, in the shadow of anti-communism in America. But maybe it'll free you to imagine other people's stories and see in them a diversity of paths followed, even though, in the end, we chased the same dreams: love, always love, and perhaps kids and a decent job, affording a roof over our heads and well cooked foods on the table.
Call me lucky, call me resourceful, but there isn't a doubt in my mind that there were a bunch of happy commie kids cavorting in city parks, eating ice cream between wafers, picking mushrooms in the woods after a rain shower, taking hikes in the mountains to the south, and I was one of them. Which is not to say that I or my parents believed in the end that Poland was on a good path forward. We didn't and it wasn't. But, of all the good endings to those tough years, we got a winner: in 1989, we had a democratically elected government that was set in place to serve the people of my country. Though now it could be argued that it does nothing of the sort, but that's someone else's story. My childhood belonged fully to Poland under (so-called) communism and to anti-communist America. That's what my book is about.
Here we are, my small group of family and friends, drinking a toast to the launch, to our past and to a better future. Always that!
I do want to take note of this very beautiful day in Montreal though! The weather was pretty near perfect. Partly cloudy, not too warm. My hotel is in Vieux Montreal (Old Montreal): I get to be immersed in the history, but I miss a neighborhood feel to this part of town. On a Friday morning, the tourists that normally fill these streets are still in their hotel rooms. My morning walk is along empty streets. Which is nice!
I'm looking for Olive et Gourmando, a cafe that comes highly recommended to me. It would help if I followed directions well, but I don't and so the walk is long and I retrace my steps and start all over again.
Here it is! Finally... Oh the familiar breakfast of granola, fruit and yogurt! With a cappuccino.
From there, I walk up to the metro stop. (When you leave Vieux Montreal, you immediately touch on the more modern downtown area. Sort of like Portland Maine, meeting up with New York City.)
I can't keep blowing money on Uber rides, so I buy a three day metro pass and learn to navigate the system. Clean, not crowded, and mask compliance is at 99%. With a good breeze circulating throughout. Really excellent!
I get out in my daughter's Airbnb neighborhood (the Plateau). Very residential, very interesting blocks. And very green. Pretty.
They headed out to a nearby park -- "La Fontaine" -- this one:
I meet them there. The kids have a wonderful time in the playground.
It's good to sit in the shade for a while and just take it all in.
We eat lunch at the nearby restaurant (La Banquise) known for it's poutine. You know that Quebecois dish? French fries, cheese curds, gravy, maybe some meats thrown in? Three of us go for it!
Me and the kids take a pass. They eat hot dogs, I eat a famously wonderful Montreal bagel. With goat cheese. (And no, Sparrow is not walking around with a dirty face. The day before the trip he had a school playground accident: Face down. Bruises remain.)
The kids are tired so they return home to rest. My daughter and I go shopping. For art supplies, for anything and nothing. For coffee!
And eventually I take my metro back (who do I pass on the way, out for an ice cream!! It is a small town after all...).
We reunite for dinner at the Boswell Brasserie.
They do like to fry things in Quebec. So, Wisconsin is not the only place where you can find fried cheese curds!
As for Sandpiper -- he ate up a full adult plate of scallops. For some reason, that little guy really loves... scallops.
And I know this is a very "facts only" sketch of our first full day here, but the day has only so many hours and I have only so many stories that I can deliver in the course of it!
Of course, one thing must be obvious: it's a joy to be here, to be anywhere with this spirited group, and it was great fun to launch Like a Swallow tonight! Onto more adventures tomorrow.
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