Montreal is one of the nicest cities in North America. I don't know why I haven’t returned since my one visit in 1976, which happened to be the summer Montreal hosted the Olympics. I arrived shortly after the Olympics ended, but the city was still in full host mode, and visitors from all over the world were still enjoying their hospitality.
The dollar was strong, and when I looked at the signs in the little bars and bistros, everything looked very inexpensive. I think a beer was something like 80 cents, including the tip, so I sat down at a place that was open to the street and drank a beer. For some reason, that made me want a cigarette for the first time on the trip. I went to a little shop and bought a pack of some funny looking Canadian cigarettes in a light blue box. Right after I lit one, a local guy came up and started chattering in French, pointing at my cigarettes. I said, “I’m American.” Immediately he smiled and began speaking English, and of course he wanted a cigarette. Say what you will about health issues of smoking, but back when it was relatively popular, it definitely could bring a sort of instant rapport. I told him about my travels, and he told me there would be a party that night at a specific nightclub in Old Montreal.
Old Montreal has cobblestone streets and feels like a European city. In this Olympic summer, tourists chatted in dozens of different languages, adding to the international feel. I found a cheap hotel room, not unlike the one the Griswolds had in England in “National Lampoon’s European Vacation.” The historic Victorian building was quaint, but the bathroom was down the hall. What could I expect for $15?
I showed up at the nightclub at the appointed time, and it turned out to be a stone-faced building that had lots of large openings, windows without glass, with the wooden shutters thrown wide open. I looked in to see a very large venue with long tables lined with benches like you might find at an Oktoberfest, plus some round tables with regular chairs, which were obviously the better seats. On the stage, a folk singer with a guitar performed for the enthusiastic crowd.
I decided this would be a good place to go whether or not my new friend showed up. After walking inside, I saw someone with long bushy hair stand up and wave from one of the round tables and realized he was signaling me. It was my cigarette-bumming friend. When I sat down, I realized I was the only one who spoke English as a first language. This guy had apparently gathered up people from all over the world for our table. There were Germans, Japanese, French and others. Everyone was drinking Molson Golden, so I did the same. I can’t say I understood everything, but the more beers we had, the more we laughed together.
The music was awesome, whether they sang in English, French or some other language. I remember one singer in particular singing what seemed to be a cowboy song in French, with all of us in the place singing along when he reached the chorus of “Yippee yippee yip. Yippeee yippee yay.”
I had only planned to be here for one night, but I had such a great time, I decided to stay another day. The second night, I attended a similar party. I really need to get back there one day. By the way, the music videos above are more current artists, but they're the closest I could find to the way I remember the music being those wonderful nights in 1976. Here's an interesting take by someone who recently visited Montreal:
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