roadtrip!

ah yes.. Montreal!

Ryan and I took a great road trip this weekend... before we left, Micah said something to the effect of, "Don't you have a plan? All you'd have to say is, We're going to climb mountain X, and then I'd come." Well, we really didn't have much of any plan, except that Vermont would be involved. We set out in the morning.. stopped by the university, where I tossed my 75%-completed quantum homework into the box, picked up a couple lonelyplanets at the public library, some sandwiches at rubino's, and then we were off on the New York State Thruway (about the thruway: "we'll take it, but we won't like it!" :-).

rochester to syracuse to vermont

in the car we discussed our expectations of Vermont, how we expected the low plains of new york to suddenly fall away into mountains, how we ought to have a video camera so that we could make our video documentary of our trip, of our expectations and everything. The sun set as we bumped on by Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute in Troy, NY and over the border into Vermont. The first thing after the Vermont border was some pricey lodge, and this seemed to set the pace for Vermont. From the car we called up some hostels -- one had a disconnected number, the second was full, but we found lodging at the third, the very lovely Trojan Horse Hostel in Ludlow, Vermont (312 miles from Rochester, New York).

ludlow, to rochester, to ben and jerry's, to burlington

The next day was our day for exploring Vermont. We had wondered why there were so many hostels in vermont (compared to northeastern new york, where we found none). As we began driving up through the center of vermont (along highway 100) we realized that the whole state seemed full of upscale inns and lodges, everything neatly painted like the whole place was run by pottery barn or bath and body works. We established a running challege to find a business not tourism-related, and hours passed before this was fulfilled. Nonetheless the scenery was wonderfully scenic. We stopped in Rochester, Vermont for some blueberry pancakes (me) and a muffin (ryan) and concluded that every Vermonter drives a subaru.

In Burlington we explored the campus of the University of Vermont (almost completely devoid of students on this sunday afternoon) and wandered down to the waterfront (on Lake Champlain -- would be quite fun with a boat) and the downtown, which is a huge and relatively bustling outdoor pedestrian mall. We were beginning to feel rather pro-vermont, we had almost banished the feeling that it was all a Disney creation, but then up a block it turned into 100% gap, starbucks, urban outfitters, etc. We noticed on our map that Montreal was not so far away, so we ducked into Borders in Burlington to shamelessly exploit their collections. We sat down with a notebook and a pile of guides to Quebec, wrote down all the hostels and so forth -- in particular there was this one hostel called "Chez Jean". Details were sketchy, but it seemed that this guy Jean operated it out of his Montreal apartment. I called dibbs on the couch and we were off.

On the way to Montreal I telephoned the "hostel".. a girl answered the telephone.. she didn't speak much English, but we established a reservation for two. And, oh -- I have to say, she had me at "bonjour."

vermont to montreal

Montreal is a huge city (on an island in the St. Lawrence Seaway!) of more than three million people.. we arrived completely without orientation, but a guy at a convenience store sold us a map and was abundantly helpful in telling us where to find things. (I was really quite impressed with just how amiable and sincere everyone seemed to be.) In particular he directed us to the Chez Jean, which turned out to be located in the Plateau du Montreal (?), a wonderful old town area with some brick streets (think cobblestone) full of neat old restaurants.. I would love to go back and spend a week sampling them. Anyway, by magic we found rue Henri-Julien, and, just as described there was apartment number 4136 with "JEAN" chalked onto the mailbox.

I could hardly believe the place when I walked inside. This warm and cozy apartment is full of people, lounging around, someone is playing the piano, everything is bright and happy. There's a loft that's sort of partitioned off with some loosely draped sheets, there's a hammock, there are people having tea, there is all of this in this little apartment. As all of this soaked into my senses, I was full of surprise and glee, I'm thinking "This is the most bohemian thing I have ever seen in America" before I quite realise we're not really in America anymore. We find the french girl with whom I had spoken on the phone and she seems to speak even less English in person. A few syllables into this situation I'm thorougly mesmerized.. somehow it's established that ryan and i might actually want two beds.. Ryan and I are going to go get some dinner... I'm about to swoon under this girl's mysterious francophone spell.

Outside again, I'm completely energized by this incredible hostel. Later I came to see it as a sort of tree-house, a hostel built on the scaffolding of a three-story apartment (nestled between two apartments with regular people living in them), complete with some beds even outside and a massive spiral staircase and even extra showers grafted into odd places on the outside of the building, people sleeping on mattresses and couches in every corner (nonetheless carefully catalogued), a VW minibus tucked into the back yard. And the staff, by which I mean this guy Gabriel who was subbing in for the mythical Jean, was just so earnestly friendly. It was a warm and happy home.

Our dinner arrangements were nearly as novel. Ryan and I ended up ducking into a little Tunisian restaurant in the downtown, where we were brought narghilla and mint tea and where the proprietor seemed more interesting in fraternizing with his compatriots than serving his customers. Still, it was entirely hilarious and delicious.. a boisterous group of about our age came in, reacted enthusiastically to TV footage (direct via satellite from Tunisia!) of some leader jabbering on in arabic, dubbed over in French... it was quite a spectacle. chicken schwarma sandwich (ryan), soybeans in some kind of meat soup with bread (tobin), creme brule and baklava. mmm.

In the morning today we bid adieu to our friends at Chez Jean and ventured out to explore the Mont Royal (mountainette in the center of Montreal), with beautiful views out over the city and french canadians powerwalking up and down. down into the Latin quarter, we checked into Cafe Vienne for coffee and pan au chocolat. It was divine.. but then we had to go.

181 miles from Montreal to Science 44 Co-op

From Montreal we drove down to autoroute pretty much along the border (formed by the St. Lawrence Seaway and, later, the "thousand islands" area), crossing from Quebec into Ontario and taking a short detour to the town of Kingston, home of Queen's University, to visit the Science 44 co-op, a 20-house, 150-person student co-op in that city. I wasn't quite sure how we'd be received, but it worked out wonderfully. We wandered into the main office and introduced ourselves. Once again everyone proved extremely hospitable, and enthusiastic about our rochester co-op plans. The general manager gave us a tour of the central house and two of the other houses. I was quite happy to have made the ~80 km detour to visit.

It's called "Science 44 Co-op" because it was started by the Science class of 1944. They have about 20 houses averaging about 5 people in each house. One of the houses has a full kitchen (very similar in size and scope to the kitchen at Oscar Wilde) and the members come to that central house for most meals. Like in the USCA, the individual houses order food from the central office and that food is delivered to the house. The central office also delivers some prepared meals to the houses, but I don't remember which. Each member does three hours of workshift a week at the central kitchen in addition to whatever is required by the house. Overall the co-op seemed a lot less ideosyncratic than the one at Berkeley, generally simply providing good housing rather than a novel living experience (theme houses, each house having its own distinct character/traditions). The "network of many small houses" approach might work particularly well in Rochester. It also felt good to be out and making connections regarding the co-op project. I need to get more people on board, and then we need to go out and visit the co-ops in Ithaca, Buffalo, Guelph, Waterloo, and Toronto.

After our co-op tour we had a good meal at the Kingston Brewing Co, explored the town briefly on foot, then set out again on the final leg of our journey.

212 miles from Science 44 Co-op to home

The drive home was uneventful, mostly fast miles on interstate highways (81 and 90). I guess the only interesting part of the drive home was crossing the border into the United States. Ryan only had his driver's license as identification (you're supposed to have a state ID/driver's license plus birth certificate, or a passport, but a driver's license is usually sufficient) and so the border guard asked him:

guard: "Where were you born?"
ryan: "San Diego"
guard: "Are you a U.S. citizen?"
ryan: "Yes"

now usually you just want to let border guards go about their business with as little interaction as possible, but this just annoyed me so much, I had to interject (also with the security of knowing we were guaranteed entry to our own country):

tobin: "Of course he's an American citizen. Everyone born in the U.S. is automatically a U.S. citizen!"
guard: "Well, not necessarily, you see." and then he explains how there are "circumstances" and so forth.

Anyway, after this little impromptu civics lesson (and I do believe that I am right on that subject, that anyone born on u.s. turf is, under any circumstances, a u.s. citizen) and telling him this whole story about being grad students at University of Rochester, we were free to go. But first Guard A asked Guard B, "Are you ready to do it?" Guard B gave a rather nonplussed look. Guard A says back to Guard B, "Oh, you don't want to do it? ... Okay, we won't do it." Then he turns to us and tells us we're free to go... which we do eagerly, wondering what exactly "it" is.

p.s. four posted some pictures from the trip.