Aight so today I packed up my shit again, had an early dinner with train friend J, and hopped on the Vial Rail to Quebec City. Also man, those trains are pretty nice — yay for single window seat, although the WiFi was sketchy. And then I remember how spoiled I am for being irked by spotty WiFi on transportation.
Naturally I got lost immediately. I don’t have 3/4g here, because Canada, but in Montreal usually Google Maps would give me a decent approximation of where I was/what was around. In Quebec apparently I landed directly in the middle of the Saint Laurent River and remain there still.
I also, until tonight, was blissfully unaware that the Old City is evidently atop fucking Mount Everest. And I wonder if I’m missing something, because while I saw plenty of people strolling/stumbling down the streets, I didn’t see many other assholes gasping and wheezing their way up with me.
Quebec feels strange and lonely in a way Montreal didn’t, for some reason. Well, for a lot of perfectly reasonable reasons, I suppose. I mean, I’d been there before, after all. Only once, and only for a long weekend, but I arrived with a vague idea of where shit is in relation to other shit, and knew more or less where I was going. And I got into Montreal mid-evening, when it was still light and the normal daily activities still lingering, versus wandering lost and exhausted through streets that were either dark and empty or full of drunk tourists/partiers, since tomorrow is apparently la Fête Nationale.
And I had already made a friend before I even got off the train in Montreal, and had plans to get together, so at least there was one person in that sprawling city that knew my name. Here: absolutement personne.
The hostel is weirdly impersonal as well — which is fine, but it resembles a hotel, with door after anonymous door opening into identical bare walls and bunk beds. And I’m alone right now in my six-bed dorm, which is kind of nice, but it’s also been two weeks to the day since I’ve slept alone in a bed in an empty room. It’s disorienting.
And now I need to decide whether brushing my teeth and oh god showering is worth clambering down from my top bunk throne.
At least the drunk rendition of AMERICA FUCK YEAH ringing up from the alley below makes me feel right at home.