There were three certainties I could look forward to n every one of my elementary school years:
1. Compulsory phys. ed. class, usually comprised of such sterling athletic pursuits as dodgeball, the parachute, and the trampoline – which yielded one sprained neck, four bruised fingers, a severely broken arm, but no greater appreciation for the sport.
2. A field trip to the Dow Planetarium where, for one gloriously tedious hour, we sat in the dark, some napping, some discussing quietly amongst themselves, some striving to endure the labored astronomy lesson.
3. A field trip to Old Montreal, the city’s quaint historic center with its cobblestone streets and heritage buildings.
To be honest, I was never a fan of any of the above. I found them all incredibly boring, with the exception of gym class which was a little more interesting only insofar as every class held the possibility of serious injury. All grown up now, I’ve discovered a new appreciation for those mainstays of my youth. Well, maybe not the phys. ed. class, the memories of which still make me cringe. And certainly not the Planetarium that, while well-intentioned I’m sure, continues to be the recipient of one of my longest held grudges.
Old Montreal, however, is different. Over the years, I’ve come to love this place. Its unique and beautiful and home to many of the city’s best restaurants (and, to be fair, some of its worst tourist traps). Just last night, I was thinking that if I were to buy a condo outside of Vancouver (say, if I win the lottery or actually get one of my shows green lit – whichever comes first) Old Montreal would be the place.
Also, Vegas and Tokyo.
And possibly Hong Kong and Italy.