Summer in Montréal

Hello readers,

I regret my absence, and I am sure many of you have spent sleepless nights wondering what I’m up to. This summer I decided to work on my weakness of staying in contact. I started sending weekly email newsletters with updates to a few people and slowly I’ve been growing this list. I write most of the things I might otherwise write on here, so I’ve had nothing major to share. But, I guess it’s come time for my great return.

I am currently at work supervising a lunch. For those of you who don’t work in Bronfman, this means I am sitting in a chair facing a group of seminar participants while they eat. I kept making eye contact with people mid-chew so I decided to take one for the team and go on my phone.

Summer days have been moving quickly, my days seem packed and long but I’m really doing nothing at all.

Back on my summer ‘23 schedule, I have been waking up most mornings before 9. On mornings Charlie works, it takes me a bit to hype myself up enough to make my way into the (hopefully) empty kitchen.

I always do, as I am a breakfast person. Recently, this breakfast has been eggs. I’ve gone through a few different egg phases and this is my current process:

• I start with toast. I usually buy the cheapest one, pre sliced of course. I recently got to take home a loaf from work and the knowledge that I was eating free bread allowed for a great start to my day.

• Two eggs (sunny side up)

• While they cook, my toast is usually ready. I put on a generous amount of kewpie mayo.

• Next comes feta. I like to get the PA Canadian extra creamy one, it’s the same price as the crumbly version and it spreads way better. (If you can’t piece two and two together, I spread this over the mayo)

It’s pretty delicious, and I get the added benefit of patting myself on the back for starting my mornings with a dose of protein.

While I eat I either listen to music (I have been listening to an album a day and am very dedicated to the spreadsheet I made to document it) or I watch Real Housewives of New York. I am on season 2.

Anyway, where my day takes me next varies. There’s usually three options:

• Work

• Comp sci with Eliza and Siobhan

• The park or roof, where I have been working on my tan and my pile of to-read books

My most recent roof tan brought to my attention the growing difference in shades between my arms and neck/face. I like to wear Jaimie’s baseball hat and my sunglasses while I read and I guess it’s caused my face to stay pretty consistently in the shade. Eliza said she’d help me self tan if the difference gets any worse. So far, I’m still in the clear. Because self tanner has always scared me, I’ve spent many quiet moments recently brainstorming troubleshooting methods. I guess my walks outdoors haven’t cut it?

Anyway, those are my mornings. The day could take me in many directions, most recently taking me to two different events involving stilts. It feels a bit like I’m being taunted; I’ve always considered myself someone who would be a natural at walking on stilts and I’ve never gotten the opportunity to try it out.

I am secretly glad about this, as I think the possibility of failure is too daunting. I quite like thinking of myself as someone who could easily stilt, and I don’t really want to face the consequences of trying this out.

If it’s Tuesday, Thursday or Friday, I send one of my various newsletters. I like to narrate the weeks activities so it usually takes me a long time to piece my day’s together.

I usually spend a good chunk of my day on Paprika, perusing the groceries I have and thinking about recipes. Charlie recently downloaded the app too. It brings me so much joy knowing that the Paprika love is spreading. I also love to consider myself an influencer and this helps.

Whether or not we met to code, I most likely see Eliza. We do a great variety of things, like sit in the park, sit in the kitchen, go on walks, and make our way through our list of animated cat and mouse movies.

Come night time, Charlie and I might work on a puzzle, go to a park or watch true detective. The world is our oyster.

I hope this helps you all visualize what I’ve been up to, so you can imagine yourself here with me.

Xoxo

Violet

April 30th on the Train

It is 8:38. The train was supposed to depart 3 minutes ago. It has not. I don’t mind this too much because just like my trip down to New York, I have gotten very lucky with my seating arrangement. The couple beside me just took off their shoes which I noticed before looking over. It feels nice knowing that even though we don’t know each other, they feel comfortable enough around me to let their natural pheromones free. It’s not every day that you get the question of what the feet of the people beside you smell like. 

They look like a typical Montreal quebecois couple, the man sporting a mustache and an arm full of patchwork tattoos. Looking at him you can almost see the beanie that might rest on his head, surely rolled up above his ears. Traveling feels detached from reality, so this Montreal sight grounded me with the reminder of what I was coming back to. 

I have no Wi-Fi, no data, and no phone. Luckily, my April playlist is 12 hours long and I’ve outsourced about ten albums to download. While most of you may see me as a super off the grid person , my lack of phone worries me. What am I supposed to do for this thirteen hour journey if not keep on refreshing instagram just to see the couldn’t load activity banner pop up? How can I cope with the spotty upstate service without checking my email over and over, knowing nothing will load?

Well, these questions are yet to be answered, but I do have lots on my itinerary.

In an effort to look at the positive, I began to think about the gum Georgia bought me sitting in my suitcase. I thought about rooting around trying to find it in hopes it might cover up the foot odor that all these minutes later still finds its way into my nose. There’s two packs of gum, one cinnamon and one bubble gum. 

It’s 2 pm. The scent is mostly gone now. I get whiffs of it every once in a while but it’s like last day of a cold… it reminds me to be grateful for what I have. I am alternating between working on a mixtape and reading a page of my book. It is open in my lap and my feet are falling asleep. 

The man with the feet has left his position in the row diagonal from where I am sitting. His girlfriend wanted to nap using both chairs and the train car is relatively empty. He decided, with this change, to move to the row directly in front of me. Once again, the tangy odor wafts backwards. 

We are approaching the border. He stands up and I can feel him eyeing me. Does he want a pen? If he dares to ask I can only hope he puts his shoes back on before coming any closer. 

He’s gone back to sit beside his girlfriend, and they both keep getting up. He’s in the aisle seat, so when she needs to move he does too. The disturbance in the air sends the scent right back over here. 

The woman’s socks are deceivingly tan, I thought for a second that she took off her socks too leaving her bare feet to rest against the chair in front of her. This deeply unsettled me, and I hoped that the border patrol agents would see it as a threat against the nation, letting them in on the ultimatum that they behaved with decency and covered their sweaty feet back up. 

I think he was listening to Niska. I rustled and rustled through my stuffed bag and eventually came upon some bubblegum. The scent reminded me of last winter and was a welcome distraction from the sour aroma I had come to know. 

Investigating the Tastes of Canadian Corporate Leaders

To all my readers: I imagine it must have been a lonely year with my sparse posting. In an effort to relaunch my blog, I decided I would post the post what for Luca here too. Here it is, and more to come.

After Luca guest posted on my blog, I thought and thought about what to send in return. As an inquisitive person who sees the world in a uniquely deep way, I decided my talents would be best put to use doing some investigative journalism. Where do I have more access than the average person? McGill’s Bronfman building. For those of you who don’t know, I have the lucky opportunity to work on the hospitality staff, cleaning up after leadership seminars for the employees of Canadian corporations.

The shifts during lunchtime hours allow me to see, and more often than not, taste, the food that the upcoming generation of leaders sustains themselves with. You are what you eat, so one of these days I might start to make the transition myself. Who knows? With these insights, you could too.

The leaders of tomorrow do not like raw vegetables. Especially broccoli. And cantaloupe. Platter after platter got sent out, and despite them requesting healthy options they returned to the kitchen mostly untouched. Things are different when hummus is involved. In such a case, carrots fly off the shelves.

This picture disproves the point I just made, I know. It is misleading because of the inclusion of hummus. Please trust me that this is the most that got eaten throughout the week. People get hungry, especially when there’s hummus and a Perrier to wash down their dry, room-temperature veggies! Ask yourself, what would I have to gain by lying?

They love bagels. (Specifically the St. Viateur grocery store bagels). I hate that they love these because sesame seeds get all over the kitchen and classroom and I can never seem to escape them. I am fond of sesame seeds but this tests my limits. I also have some reservations against Montreal bagels, but I will admit it’s mainly because I have been scorned in the past. I am open to changing (even if I doubt it’s possible).

I had the closing shift on Wednesday so I only saw the aftermath of the Mandy’s they had for lunch, but I know they had some sort of salad with chicken. Four of them had food poisoning, and that is what they blamed. Still, it doesn’t feel very leader-like to get food poisoning, so I don’t know how highly I would value this.

They liked this pink goo dessert. (Not too much. Semi-liked). While the fact that I never tried this goo keeps me up at night even weeks later, I can find solace in knowing that my coworkers did. From them, I know that it tasted like strawberries with a texture stranger than jello. I like to imagine the experience of eating it being similar to taking spoonful after spoonful out of a jam jar.

I’m not sure how much they liked these matcha energy balls. Still, I am glad they had them because corporate life can take a toll and it’s important to keep your energy up. I didn’t taste them because I was scared they would have nuts and I still had a few hours in my shift. An allergic reaction would have been a struggle all alone in Bronfman, curiosity satisfied or not. (Lesson 1: never let the leaders of tomorrow see you at your weakest). I did give them a sniff and they smelled like seeds.

They do not like dried apricots. (Overheard on a dried fruit day: “the snacks aren’t snacking”). Who can blame them?

A couple of shifts ago it was the end of the night, I was cleaning up the classroom and one of these future leaders decided to strike up a conversation.  He asked me how long I’d been working there, whether I liked the job, what I was studying etc.

When he asked me where I was from, I tried to keep it vague and short because he was standing in a really inconvenient spot, blocking the path between me and my trusted cart of sprays and keys and important cleaning products. I told him I was from the states, but I guess this was the wrong move because it only prompted further questions. “Which state?” God. How dare he? I wanted to jump off the building. I told him New York and he smiled.

He told me he had visited once before. (You and 30 million people a year. Shocker). His friend’s girlfriend was from Queens and she gave him a map with the most dangerous spots circled in bright red ink. Before I could answer, he smirked and told me slyly that he went to them all. I congratulated him on this, stopping my cleaning to write down my number and commend his bravery. You don’t meet men like that anymore, willing to travel to places such as Williamsburg (one of those dangerous spots he mentioned) just to “check it out” and see if it was “really that bad.”  Hey, N 6th street left of Bedford can be a frightening place. It’s normal to feel lost now that the Urban Outfitters there is permanently closed. What, are you meant to shop at Madewell?

This trait of courage he displayed is one I hope to gain through keeping track of the diets of those attending these leadership seminars. I have not taken very many pictures of their food so this is simply a vignette into their lives, but I promise I will keep putting in the work. If I am the Hoover Dam, these young Canadian powerhouses are the Colorado river, and I will do everything in my power to educate the masses.