MONTREAL: NOTRE DAME BASILICA AND A SUGAR HIGH

I've never really considered Canada a foreign country, not like Germany or Japan or even England.  Unlike Mexico, we share a common language (well, except for that "aboot the hoose" stuff) and a common culture.  Until last month I had only been in Vancouver on the west end and Niagara Falls on the east end, but the rest of the country is like Vancouver and Niagara, right?

Wrong.  Quebec is definitely a foreign country.

Tourists, even American ones, do have to show their passports at the border now, but the border crossing looked pretty non-threatening compared to some of the passport control booths we've had to get through:

However, right away we noticed that they don't use the Queen's English on their signs, including on their stop signs:

In our travels, we've been surprised by how many countries use the word "stop" rather than the foreign equivalent.

Then there was this fellow, standing in the Place d'Armes Square. He definitely looks like he is related to the Three Musketeers:

Paul Chomeday de Maissonnueve, Founder of Montreal

And wait . . . isn't that Notre Dame Basilica identical to the one in PARIS, FRANCE?

Notre Dame, Montreal

Well, maybe not quite.  Someone chopped off the tops of the towers in Paris and added a few embellishments:

Notre Dame, Paris

Montreal's Basilica is quite impressive, and just a bit creepy, especially on a rather Gothic-y weather day:

When it was completed in 1843, this was the largest church in all of North America.

Did someone bonk Mary on the head?  It looks like she is seeing stars.

We were laughing and joking and ooh-ing and ah-ing, and then we went inside, and suddenly we could hardly breathe.

WOW.

You know how they backlight the organ pipes in the Tabernacle in Temple Square?  Well, this is kind of like that . . .

. . . only a thousand times more stunning.

The main room is rather dark, or it least it was on the rainy day we visited, and the blue-painted ceilings and blue lighting give the interior an eerie, almost surreal atmosphere.  It has to be the most unique use of color in a cathedral interior that I've ever seen. (By the way, this is where Quebecean icon Celine Dion married Rene Angelil in 1994.)

It's not only the main altar that is so sublime.  There are colors and patterns everywhere.

We loved the unique stained-glass windows that portrayed scenes from Canadian history rather than more traditional scenes from the life of Christ.

The art was also unusual, much of it, like the windows, depicting Montreal's history, both religious and secular. Here is just a small sampling:

Of course, there were plenty of traditional statues of Christ, carved from the warm woods of Canadian forests rather than the cold marble of Italian quarries:

I especially loved this Ezekiel and Jeremiah,:

. . . and the figures on the ends of the pews, examples of how to worship:

 

Remember this spiral staircase.  I'll come back to it later:

Because of the monstrous size of the cathedral, it was decided that a smaller, more intimate chapel was needed, and the Chapel of the Sacred Heart was completed just behind Notre Dame in 1888. Tragically, it was destroyed by arson in 1978, but it was quickly rebuilt in a slightly more modern style

The Chapel is accessed from behind the main altar, and a passageway provides a nice, quick transition from the dark glowing blue of the Basilica to a much brighter light:

 

However, the *gasp* reflex again comes into play upon entering the chapel, which is bathed in yellow light dominated by this equally unique altarpiece:

There are several style elements that provide a bridge to the main basilica, such as the use of this softer version of the blue background:

 . . . and the rich wood used for the statues of Christ:

 . . . and (here it is!) the intricately-carved spiral staircase:

 I love this Neo-Gothic confessional.  I'm glad there wasn't a priest around.  If there had been, I may not have been able to resist popping in there to confess just for the experience of it.

The chapel was full of people, cameras, and film crews who were preparing some advertising for a Christmas music special later in the year (and yes, that IS a Christmas tree):

Here is the guy from the top row of the poster above being interviewed:

Well, when we were done in there, our energy had been completely sapped and we needed a caloric infusion to get us through the rest of the day.  What could we do but search out the bakery recommended to us by our friends the Eastmonds?

Oh yeah, it was worth the subway ride AND the walk.  We ate a couple of delicious paninis and several wonderful salads, but THIS decidedly FOREIGN FOOD is what I really came for:

 I'll take one of each, please.

READING

While not technically set in Montreal, the Inspector Gamache series by Louise Penny is set on the Canadian side of the US/Quebec border. A friend introduced me to the books via Still Life, the first in the series, and I loved it so much that I can't wait to read the next nine books. The characters are well-developed and remind me of people I know. The plot is full of interesting, unpredictable twists and is intelligent (i.e., the murderer doesn't turn out to be someone who shows up at the last minute, or a character who suddenly develops all the attributes of a murderer). Chief Inspector Gamache is someone I think I'd like to know. What more could a reader ask?

Next up: Even BETTER than Notre Dame Basilica--Saint Joseph's Oratory

VERMONT: JOSEPH, BEN, AND JERRY

What do Joseph Smith and Ben & Jerry's ice cream have in common?  They were both born in Vermont, and on our recent trip, we stopped at both places.

Joseph was born in Sharon, now a booming city of about 1400. 

There was a fairly long drive from the highway to the actual monument . . .

. . . and along the way was a cemetery unrelated to the Smith family.  I especially loved this stone with its numerous "typos" and corrections:

 Some guy surely got in trouble when he reunited with "Elizabe Chuch."  I wonder who made the corrections--Saml or someone else?

Just a bit farther up the road, we came upon the monument, which would be pretty hard to miss.  I was surprised to learn that it was dedicated way back in 1905 on the 100th anniversary of Joseph's birth.  The obelisk is exactly 38 1/2 feet tall, one foot for every year of the Prophet's life.  (With the base included, however, it stands 50 feet tall.)

 The area includes a nice Visitor Center and a church building closer to the main road.  Everything is beautifully landscaped and tenderly cared for, just like all of the Church history sites we have visited.

 The large slab of cement on the left is the original hearthstone of the Smith Family cabin:

 The home was pretty modest, but probably just a bit larger than this replica:

 I always like a good Avard Fairbanks sculpture. It just doesn't seem like a true Church site without one:

It seemed a bit heretical to rush through the Joseph Smith Birthplace so that we would have plenty of time at the Ben & Jerry's factory, but (gulp) I must confess that is what we did.

It was pretty fun to see the birthplace of an important food item:

Pretty much it was a day that went from the sublime to the ridiculous, but we had an awful lot of fun on that downward slope.

EATING IN MANY TONGUES

I get a lot of comments on what tactful people refer to as our "adventurous eating style"  and what others simply refer to as our "weird food habits."

I recently read an article entitled "American Goat Cheese: From Hippie Chick to Hip and Chic."  I sent the link to my husband and children with the comment: "I adore goat cheese. Yes I do.  Dad and I have tried many different varieties of goat cheese.  It makes me happy." 

It started an interesting conversation between Bob and Andrew.

Bob: "I like the part about willingness to try new things.  So much of it is psychological.  The last few years as I have forced myself to be more adventurous, I have found myself liking things I never would have imagined.  It adds some diversity and fun to life.  I'm glad that our family is willing to try new foods and be adventurous." [Editors note: I think Bob's been "forcing himself" to try new things for a lot longer than "the last few years."  In fact, I think it started when he was a kid and his mom cooked a rattlesnake for him.]

Gjetost, Norwegian goat cheese

Andrew: "Man, I remember eating the hard brown goat cheese (that I specifically requested along with liverwurst!) when I was in preschool.  Great family. I also think that probably more than the 'exposure' that this lady and article are talking about (it takes about ten years they say), the demand for gourmet/health/imported foods has exploded in general. We now have Whole Foods, "foodies," and the popularity of macrobiotic style diets.  Think of how brie has changed from a luxury item to a common cheese!  I see brie and crackers way more than I see the classic chips and salsa.  Also think of the demand for wild mushrooms!  Did Ralph's sell chanterelles ten years ago? I think this has a little to do with exposure and a lot to do with visibility from the internet, globalization, and a new natural/local foods health consciousness."

Bob: "You're right that much of society has been caught up in the new culture of foodies, Whole Foods, etc., which I think is probably more of your world.  But I live among a significant group of people that are not caught up in that--they eat their chicken and their hamburgers, but don't ask them to be much more adventurous than that.  Theirs is a world where they've never tried lamb or duck.  There is not an interest in even trying to venture out and do anything different.  The world you are living in, the young, college, just post-college, open-to-the-world generation, is much different than the world you have left out here. You, Sam, and Rachael have each had a big impact on some of our choices and some of the reason we have ventured out and tried new things."

Andrew: "Amen! Though I dare say, despite the claimed provincial palates of your neighbors, you've managed to outdo your foodie children on the magnitude of exoticism.  I suppose Rachael has eaten some insects, but anyone can do that on a trip to Southeast Asia.  It takes commitment to order them from the internet.  Gold medal goes to you, sir, for bravery in buying raccoon, swamp turtle, camel, boa, etc. from the internet."

 

 

Being "fluent" in more than one food culture has its definite advantages, much like being multi-lingual.  Newsweek columnist Casey Schwartz, in a recent article entitled "Why It's Smart to Be Bilingual," noted, "Some of the most valuable mental perks of bilingualism can't be measured at all . . . . To speak more than one language is to inherit a global consciousness that opens the mind to more than one culture or way of life."

I would argue that experimenting with and learning to enjoy new foods does the very same thing--it opens our minds to new cultures and different ways of life.  It is a great way to participate in our increasingly global society.

Bob and I recently ate at a Nepalese restaurant in Manchester, New Hampshire: 

We were there early before the dinner crowd appeared, and Bob engaged our waiter, a Nepalese man in his 40s or 50s, in some conversation.  We learned that he had been an "untouchable" in Nepal, and that he had immigrated to join extended family in New Hampshire.  His family ran the restaurant, and they tried to keep the food as much like the food in their homeland as they could.

Momo, Nepalese dumplings that are a lot like Chinese pot stickers

My goat curry

Bob's Nepalese lamb chops

He mentioned that he ate a lot of goat in Nepal but never lamb, as that was eaten in the mountains and he was from Kathmandu.  That caused me to come home and look up Nepal. I learned that Kathmandu is the capital city and has about a million inhabitants.  It is ringed by the Himalayas. As a member of the lower-class, I'm guessing our waiter never got to travel to those mountains that he saw around him every day.

Our conversation with our waiter made delicious food even more spectacular. As superficial of a connection as it was, we felt we had "experienced" Nepal in a small way. Through their cuisine, we had a new appreciation for the country.  We could also compare and contrast the food with Chinese and Indian food that we had eaten, the two cuisines that it seemed to be most like. It inspired us to learn more about Nepal. It was as good as a geography lecture.

Bob was recently looking through a 1960s Joy of Cooking cookbook.  It had recipes for all kinds of wild game that is not part of most Americans' diets these days: squirrel, raccoon, bear, woodchuck, beaver, beaver tail, peccary, wild boar, opossum, moose, elk, and venison.   Even my old red-and-white-checked Better Homes and Gardens Cookbook, which was a wedding gift to me in 1978, has recipes for rabbit, sweetbreads, ginger-sauced tongue, chicken-fried heart, and venison steaks.  I'll bet those aren't found in a 2011 version of the same cookbook.

I guess what I'm getting at is that even within our own cuisine, there are many foods that our grandparents and great-grandparents ate that would now turn our fast food-trained stomachs inside-out.  As far as food goes, theirs was a cultural foreign country.  Eating those foods today gives us greater understanding of their times and their lives.

I hear that age makes it harder to learn a new language, and I suppose I'm getting a little old to become a linguist, but I still hope to EAT in many tongues.

That said, let's just have a nice ham for Christmas this year--or even a leg of lamb--okay, Bob?