Montréal Mode | ​DAY 3: (Pt. 1) Mont-Royal, St-Viateur Bagel + Rue Saint-Paul Preview

Christmas Eve in foreign territory was an interesting experience. Year-end holidays often make for unpredictable exploration in local neighbourhoods, and Montréal, while situated in the outlier province of Québec, ultimately still resided in Canada. I had expected similar business operations given the national culture.

​This would mean waking earlier to maximize limited store hours. A good night's rest and a morning cup of joe were critical elements in facilitating the self-led journey.

​Breakfast would adopt the forms of a Coffee Bun from Pâtisserie Harmonie and Nespresso's Colombia brew. The former, being the last unit adorning the display case, had been procured on the basis of curiosity. Althought its somewhat indented surface wasn't entirely reminiscent of the plump, uniform coating of traditional Malaysia Coffee Roti, I had been eager to sample the specimen nonetheless.
Each subsequent bite entailed more palatable revelations: a toasty, slightly bitter coffee-flavoured casing to start, then a spongy, gratifying interior, and, lastly, a wonderfully aromatic and indulgent centre of salted butter.

The pleasurable primer of sustenance readied me for the day's upcoming activities. Bracing congestion, cough, and a terribly hoarse throat, I geared up in ahgase attire and headed towards the Metro.

My objective of the trip was none other than trying St-Viateur's Montréal-style bagels. Of the bakery's Mile End and Mont-Royal locations, the latter was found more accessible by transit. As such, I boarded the Orange Line from Victoria Square once more, this time disembarking at Mont-Royal station instead.

The neighbourhood was undoubtedly less affluent compared to the downtown district. Homelessness within the station was prominent from the moment of exit, where the train doors opened to reveal a man curled up next to a waste disposal bin on the ground.

​Hunched citizens hovered about as well - an indication of displacement.

​Heading eastward towards the pinned location, I passed a number of BIA banners. The setting reminded me of Yonge-Eglinton and Uptown Yonge: the wider sidewalks, mixture of franchises and local vendors, plethora of locals, and obviously irregular wanderers of the street.

The buildings weren't very tall, however. (Toronto persists as the leader in high-rise developments, it appears.) The at-grade level of most buildings appeared to be allocated towards retail, while stairs led upwards towards residential units occupying the upper floors; most of these dwellings spanned three storeys or less.

​An interesting observation was the prevalence of bubble tea shops in a seemingly non-Asian community. A Gong Cha was spotted within seconds of striding upon Avenue Mont-Royal.

​Coming into view fairly quickly was St-Viateur Bagel.

​Similar to Schwartz's Deli, there were designated lineups for dine-in versus takeout customers. Again, these were unsigned queues, managed entirely by word of mouth of patrons and the occasional appearance from a member of staff.

I was hardly perched beyond the doors of the bakery-café for ten minutes when the same member of staff, a middle-aged man with bilingual capabilities, ushered myself, as well as the couple behind, inwards.

​Occupying one section was a bustling dining area. It wasn't very large, though sufficed in seating and serving guests quickly. Branded merchandise lined the perimeter of the facility and several counters leading towards the utensil stand and dine-in cashier. At the very back was the store was an open preparation area: a substantial brick oven and flour-dusted work station.

While inching towards the takeout cashier, it dawned upon me that St-Viateur strictly accepted payment in "Canadian cash or debit". Reluctant to leave the line in search of an ATM, I resorted to using debit, only to be questioned by the elderly man in a heavy French accent. The deafening interior of the space drowned out my already-croaking voice, contributing additional communication difficulties to the language barrier.

​Sweatshirts, canvas totes, seasonings, spreads, and even kitchen gadgets like cutting boards and knives could be found on offer. None were distinct nor economic enough to warrant purchase, thus I merely resolved to a purchase of three bagels: Plain, Rosemary & Salt, and Maple Apple.

​The trio set me back four dollars. They were inserted into a brown paper bag and handed to me as is. Known not to be without a carrying device, I summoned my black fabric tote for their storage as I continued to explore establishments in the vicinity.

Continuing eastward revealed no further points of interest. While I prodded forward contemplating my next course of action, a bus appeared at the following intersection. Sundays and holidays are known low-frequency instances of public transit sightings; consequently, I dashed forwards with minimal hesitation.

The vehicle brought back familiar faces encountered during my St-Viateur excursion. It also instilled awareness of USB charging ports near the single-seaters.

​Within minutes, I was back at Mont-Royal station, this time headed in the direction of the west terminus of Côte-Vertu.

The wait was admittedly grueling, for it was constantly accompanied by homeless trekking up and down the platform, some engaging in conversation with innocent commuters - in French, of course.

Also noted was the distant positioning the next train signage. Its contents were hardly legible to the naked eye unless zooming in for clarity. While I struggle to admit, TTC has always done signage better.

​Returning to the hotel, I unveiled my haul of carby circlets.

Even at first glance, they were thinner than the typically uniform, dense rounds familiar to me.

Their surface was textured, twisted at their connection points, and bore a unique sheen on both sides. The Rosemary & Salt variation was distinguished by its light layer of herby spears, while Maple Apple flecked with cinnamon and bite-sized pieces of dried apple flesh.

​Proceeding with the next item on the itinerary, I led the way to the underground access for Victoria Square.

​Place d'Armes was one subway stop away, or seven-ish minutes on foot. The station was larger than Victoria Square, offering street-level access points in all cardinal directions as well as internal connections to the adjacent commercial buildings.

​Appending to my previous observation regarding bubble tea spots, the intersection of Rue Saint-Antoine and Côte de la Place-d'Armes offered another friendly name: Don't Yell At Me. But the hip, colourful ambience of Yonge and Finch had been replaced with a classic exterior of stone architecture, a Stainless steel plaque, and, as expected, French descriptions.

Generally speaking, prices are steeper than back home though, no matter Don't Yell At Me or the plethora of other chains spotted, such as Kung Fu, Chatime, Shuyi, CoCo, Presotea, and Real Fruit.

​Atop the uphill, interlock-paved walkway towards Place d'Armes was the festive art installation we had explored on our night of arrival. Continuing in that direction would lead us towards Notre-Dame Basilica of Montreal and the shops in the immediate proximity.

​Camouflaged within stone-tinted storefronts of the historic district was SSENSE, a high-fashion boutique that I had only ever invested from a virtual platform.

​Characterized by exposed concrete walls, tall glass windows, spotless metallic surfaces, and an impossibly lofty ceiling, the SSENSE store embodied five floors of one-of-a-kind apparel, footwear, and home décor displays.

Positioned on the first and fifth floors were showrooms: designer attire, luxury beauty, handbags, and more. The second, third, and fourth floors were dedicated as fitting rooms, accessed only on a by-appointment basis by customers that had ordered products beforehand and visited for in-person try-on.

Navigation between the floors was provided via a sluggish elevator or pristine stairwell with smooth railings and lacquered steps.

​The location of the boutique was admittedly odd, though was confirmed to draw the attention of numerous international (non-French-speaking) visitors.

​On the topmost floor of the building was a north-facing window offering a partially obstructed view of Notre Dame and the courtyard below.

Read Part 2 HERE !