Motorcycle

The Ties that Bind

“I’d like to repeat the advice I gave you before, in that I think you should really make a radical change in your lifestyle and begin to boldly do things which you may have previously never thought of doing, or been too hesitant to attempt. So many people live within unhappy circumstances and yet will not take the initiative to change their situation because they are conditioned to a life of security, conformity, and conservatism, all which may appear to give one piece of mind, but in reality nothing is more damaging to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future. The very basic core of a man’s living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun.” (Chris McCandless, as quoted by John Krakauer, “Into the Wild”) ~ The Happiness of Pursuit

So this quote makes me think of a few things that stick in my mind, but the primary thoughts here are of change; change to both lifestyle and the abandonment of sense of security. By nature I’m not an adventurous spirit, which likely sounds foolish for anyone that knows me, seeing as how I’ve traveled to multiple countries, lived abroad, have now twice embarked on crazy motorcycle trips and countless mini motorcycle adventures across this country. I say I’m not adventurous though because to me those are such heavily calculated risks, I like to play things safe. I like to have a net to catch me when I fall and often feel like I’ve missed out on things by not just grabbing life by the horns and going for it, being afraid to change or more accurately, afraid of change. I’ve come to realize though that change is an inevitability and it will come whether we like it or not and we can embrace or fight it, and one is so much harder than the other. I also realize that I have to change, my lifestyle that is. As this self titled blog implies, I’m a big man, a fat man, and I’ve always been okay with that. Its part of my identity and I like myself, heck, I love myself. I’ve over the past few years though noticed aches and pains, and places where I never had issues now giving me issues. So I am attempting a lifestyle change, this trip is I guess, somewhat of a goodbye to the old and an attempt to welcome in the new. The last hurrah of sorts. I’m not being excessive, but working out in the morning and then still having the energy to ride for hours, just don’t match up. Not that I plan on being a different man, just a better version of myself. Some of you may know that a few months back I went to Thailand and that was scary, it was my first time in a country with no knowledge of language or culture, and a crazy long series of flights to get me there. Though I had to do it, I couldn’t let this opportunity pass me by. I had to take the leap of faith that it would be successful. Then reality set in… I was out of shape. I decided it needed to change. At some point I was going to be in Thailand, and I was going to have to walk up some temple stairs and I didn’t want to be that fat guy dying at the top. So I asked my friend Jason, who trains people on the side to help me with a workout plan. For months I went to the gym, I lifted, I did cardio, and I broke a sweat… a lot of sweat. Mind you I also last year found out I have a torn meniscus which hampers movement drastically and causes pain in my left knee. So it’s also an attempt at beginning this rehab. Either way I did this every morning, at 5:30am, for months, and I walked those temple steps. I came home and I kept working out, and I began jogging on the treadmill everyday. Now, I’m not running anywhere unless being chased and that’s only if I’m not able to take them in a fight, animals included. So jogging is big. Jogging hurts. But nonetheless I jog. I jog for a few miles every morning. I’m slowly trying to add to this, eat healthier, and make better life choices. Granted on this trip, I’m not. I’m enjoying a gym free month and will hit it again when I’m home and start anew. I just need to be a healthier me, a better me, and that means changing my lifestyle. It’s scary, because this is the only me I’ve ever known. Don’t get me wrong I still embrace who and what I am, I don’t cringe from the word “fat” I laugh at it, I use it for motivation, but I also push through it everyday in that gym. I remember the man I was in 2010 when I went through this to lead my first study abroad, I worked out like a madman. Even while dragging my students through the streets of Europe for miles, everyday I woke up and walked, as well as sprinted 5 – 6 miles a day to begin each day. I had college students begging me to stop as I pushed on to the next location. I want to be better than that, not for a trip, not for anyone else, but for me, for life, to prioritize myself. With that change though comes realizing it doesn’t just happen on one front, I have to embrace newness all around me. That started with a job and location change, it’s become an attitude change, health change, and now an attempt to change how I see the world. Not as a place that I’m so very cynical towards, but one that I can find my place in somehow – leaving behind the grudges and anger that have held me back and lived with old attachments that hindered my future. Some of that is happening on this bike, with every mile I leave behind a past memory of failure and replace it with one of success. Not having forgotten, but having moved past, and each mile closer to completion does that. Maybe it’s this place, Detroit, that has made me think of change. I have so many memories here and so much love for this place that so many have discarded. It’s a beautiful place rich with black history and narratives that tell the stories of triumph and struggle. Behind every layer of paint, beneath each crumbled building there is knowledge that goes lost and information that shouldn’t be forgotten, but is hidden by the stigma that plagues this once great city. To me, it’s still beautiful, differently beautiful, and I don’t want that to be lost. I want it to be reborn, to find new life under the sun and stars. A new life to be better, not something else completely, just better. With that in mind, step by step, mile by mile, I’m trying… I really am trying. 

Day Eleven What a day. I’m dark, like dark chocolate dark, with milk chocolate tan lines showing exactly where my goggles were today and where my sleeves stop. I’m definitely getting my raccoon on. Haha. So in other words I’ve spent some time on the road. Honestly it wasn’t a terribly eventful day because the goal was to get to Indianapolis by a certain time so I had to move straight through. Though I did get to start the day with some family time. My cousins that I stayed with last night had plans for breakfast with the rest of the local family and some friends to celebrate Chris’ recent birthday that I mentioned in the last post. So even though I first thought I’d leave before that point I figured I could stay and at least say hello to everyone, even if I couldn’t stay for breakfast itself.

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Cousins… Jody is feeling the flow, doing the bull dance.

The day started with taking more photos with the family on the way out to the restaurant. Which I guess is fair, we haven’t seen each other in a good while. This included of course everyone on the bike, taking my little cousin for a ride and eventually my cousin Holly too. It’s nice to share in everyone’s excitement and give them a new experience. My younger cousin was really digging it after being hesitant at first, I think we may have a bike fanatic on our hands one day.

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Jean, Lady Luck, and I, headed around the block.

Then it was time to head to Kuzzo’s a chicken and waffle place they wanted to go to. Following them to the spot gave me a chance to head into Detroit not far from where they used to live and I used to spend a lot of time both as a kid and when I was here for grad school. Between that time Detroit changed a lot, those memories color the place it is for me now. I see this ruin and loss, but I also see potential and possibility. I also see beauty in the decay to some extent, the layers of posters peeling atop one another, the color shifts in fading paint, the new places springing up amongst the old. 20170723_115531 This is one of the most interesting cities in the country and most important to some extent to its financial and socio-economic history, so it’s always a marvel to me to watching what it was versus what it is. As we arrived at the restaurant my cousin Ricky came out to greet me as I circled back to park.

Ricky was one of the coolest guys I knew growing up. It’s been great to see him age into a salt and pepper haired “adult”, and all of these cousins to some extent. While there’s a closeness there with all of them, it’s not until now that I realize just how much older than us they were, but that was the great thing about it. We always felt welcome and present when we were with them, age was never a factor or hinderance. This morning hasn’t been any different. From hugs all around to laughs at the table it was a great experience to see everyone. I met one cousin’s new husband, friends, and smashed about 6 glasses of water before hitting the road in the increasing warmth. The best moment though was sitting with Ricky and Judy who proceeded talk about the old neighborhood so longingly. In this conversation they told me about the race riots and the ensuing “white flight” that eventually started the downturn of this city. They told me about the national guard coming to “protect” neighborhoods as tanks rolled down their street and sat in the park across the lot from them.

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Judy and Ricky schooling me on history

 

They almost romanticized the moments of this tragedy, but I get it. It was beautiful. Not what happened, not the riots or the fall of the economy that resulted, but the moment that people decided to stand up for themselves, the moment they as children saw something new in their space. Even if Judy did miss seeing the Tigers play that evening, they were left here with a memory that would last forever. They saw the beginning of it all.

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This is family, this is love. This is my Detroit.

After lots of hugs and repeated goodbyes, I said goodbye to this city once again and my family. I’ll be back but for now I have to go. Indianapolis bound. Onto the highway and headed out, it’s a fairly straight shot to Indy, about 5 hours southeast. There was rain starting in Detroit and current downpours in Indy, I assumed the overcast day would hold, even if it was warm out. For this reason I hopped right on the bike and hit the road. The ride itself was the uneventful part, other than the lack of rain and clouds I prepared for, so that’s where my chocolate tonal conversion happened today, on this wonderful stretch of I-69. I at least found a nice Harley shop to make a stop at along the way where they had a little history of Harley Davidson museum set up inside. It was a nice break from the heat and fast riding.

Here’s the interesting thing about this stop. I intended to go to Indy either way to see my family. Though my father requested that I arrange a dinner for my sister, brother and I to meet with him while home. Why, you ask? To discuss his funeral and end-life wishes. It was just weird. Not that he’s sick or anything, he just wanted to randomly get this stuff taken care of and settled. This ended up after a last minute location and time change being a dinner at Joe’s Crab Shack. Not the place I’d assume one would have such an important conversation, but alas. It was. Now he and I had spoken before, I knew that he wanted to be cremated and no sad funeral, but a celebration of life. Which if you know my dad, he’s a character, so there will be plenty of stories to tell. The upside is that it was easy.

The decisions actually ended up being pretty simple. Green cremation, no funeral but a memorial service, no tears, each of the kids gets a vial of ashes, done and done. It’s a strange thing to discuss the death of a parent beforehand, probably the death of anyone, not just a parent. Even with the tumultuous past we’ve had I don’t revel in the idea of it by any means. Though there is something to be said for getting everyone on the same page, I’ve seen too many families (including my extended family) torn apart over a death and the fallout from dividing of things or what someone would want. I refuse to see that happen between my siblings and I. In the end I guess this was a positive. Conversations like this are hard to have but important to sit down and hash out.

Other than this it was good to catch up with my brother and sister. We actually had a long conversation after dinner, just the three of us. We talked about job changes, kids, life stuff. I feel like this was honestly probably the first of these we’ve ever had with just us. It was good, really good. Enough so my sister suggested we do it a few times a year… a few is adventurous but I’m in. Living where I do now it’s the first time I’m close enough to do real weekend visits, so I need to take advantage of that. As we’ve gotten older, we’ve gotten closer and I really cherish that.  Beyond this the rest of the night has been exhausting just from being tired. I pounded that ride out so fast and in the heat, it was short but exhausting. The night ended with some talk time with my mother in the kitchen, hilariously showing her how use Netflix, and a phone call that pretty much had both of us about dozing on the other end of the phone no matter how hard we tried to keep going. Smiling and fighting I accidentally dozed off like some little kid. Sleep won, sitting in the oversized armchair in my mother’s family room, everything just seems right with the world… at least at this moment.

Detroit to Indianapolis

Day Eleven: Actual Mileage – 331 miles Best Song of the Day – “So Amazing” by Raheem DeVaughn Best Moment of the Day – Family Biggest Laugh of the Day – These milk chocolate tan lines

Day Twelve Today was just a busy work kind of day; running errands, tightening some nuts and bolts on the bike, looking for a shirt to represent my hometown Harley dealer, working on the blog, paying the bills, etc. Busy work. In other words it’s been a boring but important day. These are the kind of days I need sometimes just to play catch up on life during a trip like this. The upside was that my sister brought her kids over in the morning to spend the day at my mother’s house so I had two of my favorite little people in the world around all day. Through the work there was lots of playing and goofing off with them, at ages 5 and 8 they’re at those great periods where they love playing with one another and just running all over the place laughing their heads off. We had a notion to go to a movie but they couldn’t decide, and by the end we just had a good time at home.

Eventually I got things wrapped up and ran to the Harley dealership, I found a number of things but only snatched up two. I was supposed to head to my cousins house and have a patch sewed on the vest as my patches were mailed here to Indy. We kept missing each other though, so the secondary thoughts was to have dinner with my mother. Knowing I was out in the morning, I knew I wanted to have some good conversation time and with her before all was said and done. So we headed out to a Mexican place that my sister recommended Red Habanero. The meal was subpar, the service was even less, and I about cursed this man out when he didn’t listen to my mother when placing her order. I don’t take kindly to anyone disrespecting the people I care about. He almost caught it that evening. Either way it was good to catch up and fill in gaps about things going on in my life and things here in town. I miss these moments with family, they’re important and necessary for sanity.

 

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As the night drew to a close I kind of wanted to take it fairly easy but ended up running to my boys house. Big Red had picked up a shirt for me on clearance sometime back and gave it to his mom to hold onto for me until I came to Indy. Growing up together we watch out for each other like that and admittedly will pick up odds and ends for each other and have a strangely close but awesome brotherhood. I’m best man in this dudes wedding in a few weeks and I couldn’t be looking forward to it anymore than I am. Back to the point at hand though, a quick stop turned into an hour or so of time spent with basically my second parents. It’s all good though. Dirty Red is the prez of the oldest black club here in town, he and the wife are too cool. They always watched out for me when I’ve needed and are always a stop worth making. It’s also a good chance to catch up and talk shop, catch up with my Indy people and ride, it’s always a plus. A true sign that family isn’t necessarily by blood.

Once I got back to the house I had to do a quick load of laundry as I wanted everything clean before heading out. I actually was leaving a day early because of an unplanned stop that I decided to make a few days ago. Now I’m just trying to pull everything together. So getting everything in the dryer before bed is the plan, a late night snack, and shutting it down for the evening. Tomorrow I hope to catch the kids again as well as my aunt on the way out of town before I leave. So it’ll be a busy start but I just have to make sure I stay on target tomorrow. Time to make it happen.

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How is it that bathroom wisdom is often the best wisdom.

Northernmost Points

“Instead, clothe yourself with the presence of the Lord Jesus Christ. And don’t let yourself think about ways to indulge your evil desires.” ~ Romans 13:14

Change of pace today as I felt like my devotional was more reflective of the recent experience of the trip. It went on to talk about how the idea of how we as Christians should aim to appear as Christ, basically living and representing ourselves appropriately, hopefully in the goal of demonstrating the role of our faith in life and maybe giving the opportunity to speak about Christ in some way. Now most who know me in my faith know that this is a challenge. My faith is deeply personal and I generally choose not to share it unless a specific opportunity arises. I’m not one to feel the desire to try and convert others, but I will talk about my faith in depth if I’m given an open door and mind to do so. What this did make me think of though was crossing the border. That I and many of my friends, and others have been profiled, because we looked like bikers. It seems that no matter where I go I can’t escape being judged because of who I am, whether it be as a black man, or a biker in this case. It’s painful to realize that we are rarely ever seen for who we are, but instead who people are afraid that we will turn out to be without ever giving us a chance to prove ourselves. I’ve been a victim of being too judgemental myself, but I’m trying. I really am. I try to be open minded, and when I sense I’m unfairly thinking negatively I try to change that. The way we dress or the color of my skin are not a reason to fear us or treat us differently. Just like neither is a handicap, language difference, or anything else that separates us somehow. It pains me but I don’t think the world will ever get to a place where we stop judging people from the outside, that saddens me. I’ve tried to do my part, to change the way people look at us, taken jobs where I know I’ll be the only black person, I’ve hoped that my role will make it easier for the next person. Be a positive model for my students to potentially change how they view race, but in the end I don’t know how much good I can do. Or if there’s anything any of us can do. 

Day Seven Today I hit the road from Massachusetts heading for Montreal, Canada. This may be my shortest post yet because I want to get right to the nitty-gritty of the day and the most anticipated and dreaded moment of this trip. We’ll get to that though.

This day took me through what was some of the most beautiful countryside I’ve ever rode through. The hills and mountains of Northern Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Vermont are stunning. 20170719_092358 Traveling through the north during the morning fog and breaking afternoon sun makes for moments of incredible beauty and that feeling where it seems that you’re closer to nature than ever, and as close to a religious experience that being on the open road can give. The only trick is you’re in the middle of nowhere for a lot of that time, and when in the middle of nowhere it’s easy to think you’re lost or off course. I think I’ve finally figured out the way around that. Ride until you think you’re lost, ride about 45 more minutes and you’ll usually hit your next destination. So far it’s been working out!

Either way during the drive I met some friendly faces and saw what was as much as I can call it the most impressive babbling brook, maybe only babbling brook, that I’ve ever come across just outside of Vermont. Now mind you the last time I was in Vermont for any time, I was with my friend Jamie in undergrad. While we were out photographing I slipped almost went through the ice into a frozen river. He reached out and grabbed me just in time to save me from nothing more than wet pants. Cold and wet was a fair exchange for the save, in place of under the ice and pulled by the current, banging on the ice from below TV movie style. Needless to say this trip was a little more dry and warm along the mountain passes and well worth the trip. So after a few more gas stops and more mountainous roads that twisted and turned their way north I found myself finally hitting the Canadian border. At this rate I’d be in Montreal by 2pm with almost a full day of exploring ahead.

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The infamous babbling brook

I decided to cross at a smaller crossing because frankly I wanted something more rural as an experience. I had heard from multiple people that bikers were treated harshly at the border if they appeared to be a part of a club, and in full dress, colors, etc. Even to the point of having guys I know get turned away. So I packed up the vest and leathers, and went across as bare as I could. As I got to the crossing I realized there was a crazy long line and I’d be sitting in the sun for a little bit, but at least it was dry. So I decided to take off the helmet and just try to pace myself, take a few photos of bikers in line, the flags, random stuff for the blog…. Let’s get to the point though, the adventure of it all.

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The last remaining photo of anything other than random shots of my bike

Apparently the photos were the first mistake. As I got up to the border, after about an hour plus in line the agent begins with all the normal questions. Why I’m there, where I’m coming from, how long I’ll be there. Etc. Then they get interesting, why were you just in Thailand (seen in the Visa on my passport), why were you taking photographs in line? That was my mistake, apparently it’s illegal to take photos at a border crossing, but what else would a photography teacher do sitting outside for over an hour! Well, I was cool about it, I offered to delete the images and I understand the policy. I thought it was over, nope. I was asked off to the side and told that an officer would be with me. So I park, and two officers come over and they were pleasant. They said they had to see the images on the phone and I had to delete them (and again be told the rule on photos), I also had to have the bike searched. Every bag, nook and cranny was searched, as was I, questioned about every obvious tattoo, meaning behind my rings, anything that remotely looked like a biker. Then I was asked to come inside. Sitting for another 30 minutes, I was called up asked a few questions and then told to take a seat, 30 minutes later more questions and another seat. Finally I’m called up again, now almost 2 1/2 hours in and questioned again. They’ve at this point run a FBI background record on me, question me one more time, and proceed tell me that normally photographing alone is enough reason to turn me away but in this case they’re letting me cross only because I’m a high school photography teacher so it makes sense. Eventually all my items are returned to me and I’m back on the road. With two hours left, this will pretty much end my day.

Oddly the rural areas of Quebec look a lot like the Midwest. Corn, soybean, and cattle sprinkle the landscape, and the roads are just as bad.

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I guess that’s a difference, snowmobile crossings.

At least I felt like I was home. Two hours later and heavy traffic, I roll into Montreal, find my Airbnb and go check in. Despite an initial hiccup in checking in we got it worked out. I then went to find parking for the bike at a local garage a few doors down and walked to grab a bite to end the night. It looks like the exploring has been reduced to a single day to begin in the morning. Though I did get to sneak in a pretty solid burger before calling it a night, complete with some delicious onions rings and beers.

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DeVille, Bar and Grill in downtown Montreal

Day Eight I thought I should at least try to catch up on the blog a little bit today. So after sleeping in a bit I wrote and posted for the day. Did a little reading and my devotionals to get the day started and then headed up and out. What do you do when you’re in a city like Montreal for a day and want to figure out the lay of the land a bit and see what it has to offer. After having a few friends here this summer, I realized the city has good museums, food, sights, all the things you could want. Though after a few days of eating a haphazard or subpar meal at the end of the day I decided clearly the best way to experience the place was to eat my way through the day, so a plan was made. First coffee was needed. A rare treat for myself, so a trip to the corner coffee shop, and an order placed in French as I felt the need to practice my well worn grasp of the language. My day was planned as such; coffee and a pastry, poutine and beer at La Banquise, cheese at La Fromagerie at Atwater Market, walk around to the Jean Talon Market and buy more pastries for the morning, snack and beers at 3 Brasseurs, dinner at Joe Beef.

Meal One: I was off for the day of eats, via Uber. I couldn’t figure the best way to park the bike over and over and I just felt like I needed to take it easy. La Banquise put a hurting on me. I went for the bacon, swiss, scallions, and peppers poutine… which is topped on top of the already cheese curds and gravy. Along with a porter it was a great but heavy meal, even the smaller size. I couldn’t finish it because I knew I had to pace myself.

Today was a marathon, not a sprint. It really was an experience though, I can’t recommend it enough, the best poutine I’ve ever had, and their options are vast and the local beer selections are limited but perfect for the meal. A quick walk around the neighborhood after eating closed this chapter of the day. Time to continue my gluttonous journey.

Cheese: So if you know me well, or just slightly, you may know of my passionate affinity for cheese. So the idea of French cheeses at a French-Canadian market are right up my alley. La  Fromagerie Atwater came recommended so I won’t pass it up. A quick uber over to the market and I was in cheese heaven.

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I want all the cheeses… ALL THE CHEESES.

Not too mention the glorious selection of meats and a variety of other delicacies. Now this is also a good time to mention that I hate Foie Gras. Many friends love it, I am not one of them. As much as I’m encouraged to eat it, and I will eat most anything I couldn’t do it again. Once was enough. The texture was enough to turn me off. Either way, hard to get items like this were in high quantity at the shop and of course I thought of my friends back home who’d kill to be here.

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Get in my belly!

Either way I was here for cheese, and after what had to of been a frustrating experience for the cheesemonger letting me taste everything I inquired about, I saw my holy grail of French cheese, Beaufort d’Alpage. It’s a hard cheese with hints of sweet, nuttiness, slightly grassy and a smooth finish. It’s the perfect cheese in my opinion and it would be mine. So a hunk of cheese later I was on my way out knowing I’d devour this whole block on the way to Toronto tomorrow.

Exploring through Snacking: Jean Talon Market is your classic outdoor, open air market with a number of vendors and fruit and vegetable stands. It also has a number of shops, pastry, cafes, butchers, ice cream, and a broad variety of options inside, and surrounded by shops on all sides make it a great location. I couldn’t resist snacking on pastries and trying cheeses and meats along the way through the market as well as tasting some of the fruit that was cut up. I also popped into a great bakery and grabbed croissants and pain chocolat for the next morning and the ride. Combined with my next stop this was essentially another meal for the day.

Beer O’Clock: I had heard from a good friend that 3 Brasseurs had great food, but I also knew they were a brewery so it seemed like an idea stop for the afternoon. Well here’s the plus. The beer was awesome. They had a special stout on tap that was out of this world. I also had a taste for a classic, french onion soup and along with soft pretzels, that was a perfect round out to meal two for the day.

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Minus the french onion soup because I ate it, this was a perfect finish to a hodge-podge meal

Plus there’s nothing like real french onion soup, there’s something about the way they handle its preparation that just seems right. Now it was time for a walk back to my Airbnb, put my purchased food away and wait to head out to dinner after resting off my meal a bit and some light reading. It was also good to walk and explore a bit. I was staying downtown so it was a real hustle and bustle kind of place that reminds me a lot of Chicago as a city, even with the suburbs just outside the city, even though the brownstones remind me more of a Brooklyn style housing with deco flair. It’s a great city so far.

I’ll also sidebar and say on the way to 3 Brasseurs, I had the greatest uber driver ever. He was Haitian and grew up in Montreal. We joked around and he told me about the areas we passed through, looked at grafitti as we passed by them and talked about living in the states versus there. When he found out I was from the U.S. the first thing he said was, “where they kill black people without reason.” Good to know this is our reputation. We also talked about the diversity of the city which is one of the things that I found really pleasant, everyone seems to get along. I know it’s a city and everyone has their issues, but it’s nice to not feel like that tension is palpable. The topper to the ride was him asking if I wanted to play music off my phone, which leads us down a path of old school hip hop conversation and when “I Got 5 On It” comes on we’re both singing at the top of our lungs. Solid trip.

Final Meal: The stunner for the day and my triumph was a two part effort. Joe Beef is one of the hottest spots in the city. It took 4 phone calls to get a reservation and I think they took pity on me and just squeezed in one seat for me. But after four calls, one reservation request placed in French, one in bad French, two in English, I finally got a yes for 8:30pm. 20170720_203107 Upon arrival my table wasn’t ready, but they took me out to the garden to wait along with a beer, their own Joe Beef ale. An outdoor kitchen caught my eye as much as the garden where they grow their own salad items and vegetables. They also work with locally sourced foods to create weekly changing seasonal menus. 20170720_202353 Once I was called in to seat they offered me the bar or continue waiting for a table. I took the bar and got the rundown on the days meal options from the bartender. I went for the fresh salad to start and for my entree, filet de cheval… filet of horse. While waiting two kind women from NY sat down next to me and we struck up conversation, which undoubtedly led to me about to eat a horse. Literally. The portions are all huge, which is a great start and the salad was delicious, the meal came out and was as beautiful as I could have imagined. The filet was served with peas and diced ham in a parmesan cream sauce, it was so very tasty. The filet itself was topped with escargot and a fried egg, all served with a red wine bearnaise sauce. Here’s the thing. It was maybe the greatest meal I’ve ever had. EVER. It knocked me off my feet.

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Joe Beef… I can’t even. Hands down a stellar meal and thoroughly the best food experience I’ve ever had. A filet of horse… so good, I’d literally fight a grown man for this meal. Literally.

I talked the hesitant women next to me into trying it and they regretted nothing other than their choice of meals that didn’t compare to a HORSE STEAK! The ladies had steak and lobster spaghetti, Joe Beef classics and they kindly offered a taste, they were good, but nothing in comparison to mine. Needless to say by the end of the meal I was in food euphoria. I couldn’t help but go for dessert. A sundae of twisted brioche and berry sorbets mixed with meringue and topped in raspberry compote. I was through, it’s a wrap, take my chips I’m all in. Montreal wins.

After some late night conversation the day was done. Again, I can’t even begin to say enough how well this city treated me today. Maybe next time I’ll look at some art, bring some company, really enjoy it for a few days. This was just a taste of things to come. Terrible pun intended.

 

Worcester to Montreal

Day Seven: Exact mileage – 357 miles, Best Site of the day – babbling brook, Best Song of the Day – “Baby” by Ghostface Killah, Best Random Person Met – Mark: delivery man for a dairy farm, met in Fitzwilliam, NH