"Yo no compro pan"

For those keen on the Spanish language, you understand that the title translates to "I don't buy bread." On a visit to France, my Spanish significant other and his brother were instructed to repeat the phrase if a French person asked him something. It's a clever mnemonic to say, "I don't understand [French]" or, je ne comprends pas.

I didn't go to France. I took a weekend trip to Montreal, Canada, which is conveniently located a few hours from the New York Capital Region.

As sarcastic as this may sound to some, crossing the border was accompanied with quite a dose of culture shock. Driving through the mountains and rural counties of upstate New York was shocking enough, but I was quite surprised to see that road signs and radio stations were posted and broadcast in an unfamiliar French. Both French and English are spoken in Montreal, but everything was overwhelmingly French (albeit French-Canadian). Canada is (more or less) the first country I have visited where I didn't really know the language.

My excitement for a foreign, French-filled weekend in the French Quarters was quickly extinguished when I learned that the hostel receptionist was from Spain. Of course.

Just kidding. Many great things come from Spain (as I will sarcastically note in a future post).

Highlights of the weekend, more photos can be found on my Facebook page in the album "Your breath smells like poutine":

The Jean Talon market had fresh, colorful crops and a variety of food. Unfortunately, you can't legally cross the US-Canadian border with meat or vegetables. It was a shame that I couldn't bring the bison meat over. Lucky for me, I found a kilogram of buckwheat (gretchka) to bring home as a souvenir to remember my life in Russia.

A large part of traveling is trying new cuisine. I find it extremely stressful to do in a short period of time. People said that we had to try the crepes, poutine, this restaurant, that bar, and so on. I won't lie--stress tasted delicious.

Montreal is known for this dish, poutine. It is everything I love on a plate: crunchy french fries topped with creamy cheese curds and a rich, gravy sauce. We ordered it with sauteed onions and ground beef on top. Finishing this dish may leave us finished on a cardiac hospital one day, but I certainly enjoyed it (up to a certain point).

Besides the food, landmarks, and clubs that people suggested to us, one thing I learned too late was that almost everyone who drives to Montreal leaves with a speeding ticket. The photo above was the first photo taken in Montreal. It's a driving school and I thought it looked funny. On my way home, I may have been going a little bit faster than the posted speed limit because the roads were empty. A state trooper saw me first. I did not have the last laugh, of course.

NOTE: Follow the speed limit posted because the laws of physics always win. Also, if you are going to have poutine, a "regular" portion should suffice for two people.