(Christina here) As our second last full day, we were eager to squeeze in as much as possible today. Here were our museum missions: The science centre (briefly to see their Laseaux Cave), Pointe a Calliere & Musée d'art contemporain de Montréal.
Alas, a bad decision about a broken SD card yesterday and my camera is out of commission today. I used Michelle's digital but her autofocus doesn't work and her camera is 10 lbs heavier (give or take). And also not compatible with my tablet. Booo.
(An aside, by Michelle) Alas, when we arrived bright and early to the Science centre, and presented our shiny (expensive) museums pass, we were told we would have to pay an additional $20 to see the Lascaux Cave exhibit... which was the only reason we went there in the first place... I held back tears of disappointment... but found solace in some nifty machine contraptions displaying various scientific... things... well, they were machines, with colors, and moving parts, and sound and science... and I liked them. It was okay, I guess.
Then we rushed off to encounter the archeological delights of Pointe a Calliere. I suppose I expected an archeological marvel, dirt and diggings and discoveries of many fascinating things shedding light on ancient history or something or the sort. Stones and walls, stones and walls, and if we were lucky, a sewer pipe or two. It was a little sad. But I did buy a book on Marco Polo.
Yes, dirt. Rocks, rock walls, cobblestones, pottery, some beads and coins... it was no Stargate SG1 treasure hunt with Daniel Jackson, that is for sure! But I was pleased to accidentally become extremely interested in Marco Polo. Apparently he wrote a very interesting book. I plan to read it.
Then we were hungry. This seems to happen quite often, and is usually the source of a great deal of frustration and walking and reading and asking and walking and more reading and scowling and walking and then giving up and eating a less than delightful salad. In fact, I think that's pretty much what happened today. We walked, our stomachs growled, we scowled at menus, walked some more, scowled at more menus (gladly they are displayed outside most restos here)... We came to one resto with an overly gregarious Host, informing people of which great tables and specials he had available for them. He offered us a patio table in the sun, told us about the daily special, and then abruptly (rudely) turned and walked away when we uttered the word "allergies".
Really it's surprising that we continued to persevere on our food hunt. But then, growling stomachs are hard to ignore. We landed ourselves at an Italian restaurant which gave us the modest promise of green salads. Simple, easy. Alas our server spoke limited English, and misunderstood both my salad order and my request for dressing that really was just olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Michelle picked the goat cheese off the stealthily included bread. We wondered if the olives came from a can or a jar - we were both fairly certain it was the former.
I would like to call specific attention to the confusion they seemed to have between the advertised "Dressing: Balsamic Vinegar & Olive Oil" and an odd blend of "Creamy Italian" and "definitely not anything balsamic".
After finishing the decidedly not-worth-the-price-or-hassle food, we continued to the Musée d'art contemporain de Montréal. This was actually a treat, because, as we discovered, their are some really great pieces here. I found abstract art that was interesting, clever, subtle and a delight to look at. In short, art that was well-conceived and also rewarded the viewer for the effort of puzzling over it. The downside was the brevity of the collection. The remainder of the floors were closed for an exhibit switchover.
I was delighted to find that the small exhibit of Quebecois Abstract Expressionism far surpassed expectations. It seems that, although my two areas of specialized knowledge are French and Art, I have failed to learn, or perhaps have failed to be taught, that Quebec seems to have had a rather fantastic era of Abstract Expressionism, although perhaps a little behind the rest of the world, but who even cares about that? I kept having to stifle my laughter in the quiet museum, every time I was surprise attacked by a clever French artwork.
In conclusion, today was great. Great and good. Except I feel sick now. Dang Creamy Italian "Balsamic" dressing. But I made friends with some birds, so I'm good.
Good art does wonders.
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