Back from "French Canada"

Back from Montreal, a place surprisingly more French, and more European in general than I had expected. More than once I ran into people I had trouble communicating with. That I was okay with. More than once I ran into snootiness, bothering on rudeness, that i had been warned about. That I was not okay with.

Did I enjoy the sights, the scenes, the scents, the cuisine? Oh yes, I did. From my first introduction to McGill with students in red swimming trunks, and nothing else on (and this is November) to the tropics of the Amazon at the Biodome de Montreal, from a $6 poutine at Patis Patata on Rue St. Laurent to a $28 cheese ravioli (worth every cent) at the Hotel Europea on Rue Montague. From the powder blue gold star spangled ceiling of Basilica de Notre Dame to the crutches and candles at St Joseph Oratorie. From a metro station named Pie-ix, which sounded very suspiciously like a male body part in English to my woefully French-untrained ears, to archaeological digs at Pointe-à-Callière, which is all about the French history of Montreal, not about the natives who were there before them (why do they even mention them, I do not understand).
By the way, the above was accomplished in a day, as I was in Montreal for a conference at the Hilton Bonaventure (huge plastic flower arrangements, no less), but that is another story.