We arrived in Montreal on January 24th.
Enchanted by the cobblestone, gas lantern lit streets and centuries old architecture I could care less about the bone-chilling cold.
Mr. Something? – not so much...
We stayed in the heart of Vieux-Montreal (Old Montreal) at a lovely little place called Auberge de Passants de San Soucy.
Somewhat intimidated about trying to speak lousy French, I was thrilled when the cabbie spoke perfect English. The ‘Auberge’ is a relatively unknown converted stable, circa 1650-ish. No elevators..."all part of the charm", I thought.
As my sweet husband carried our bags up three flights of a narrow, creaking, spiral staircase...
Mr. Something? – not so much...
We stayed in the heart of Vieux-Montreal (Old Montreal) at a lovely little place called Auberge de Passants de San Soucy.
Somewhat intimidated about trying to speak lousy French, I was thrilled when the cabbie spoke perfect English. The ‘Auberge’ is a relatively unknown converted stable, circa 1650-ish. No elevators..."all part of the charm", I thought.
As my sweet husband carried our bags up three flights of a narrow, creaking, spiral staircase...
Our room was just what I would have imagined – lace curtains with windows that opened out onto a view of the quaint street below. Character seeped from the stone walls and it wasn't difficult to imagine what Montreal could have been like back in the day.
Mr. Something was less impressed with me opening the windows in –30C (-22 F).
That evening, Mr. Something insisted that we dress appropriately before heading out on the town - to the tune of - ski bibs, thermal underwear and neck gators. A little overkill (in my opinion) but he insisted and I caved. All in the name of "keeping the peace" and I'm so glad I did.
That evening, Mr. Something insisted that we dress appropriately before heading out on the town - to the tune of - ski bibs, thermal underwear and neck gators. A little overkill (in my opinion) but he insisted and I caved. All in the name of "keeping the peace" and I'm so glad I did.
For the remainder of our trip to Quebec, we may have looked like masked 'Michelin Men' but we wouldn't have had it any other way.
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It looks lovely.
Don't you hate it when they are sensible about the weather? I swear I never wore a hat in the Indiana winter until Troy insisted I do so. It really does keep you warmer, but I'm not a fan of the flattened hair look. Ick.
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