Equipped with the awareness that Ubers may arrive well in advance of one's readiness, we made sure to position ourselves accordingly by the entrance before placing any in-app calls.
The wait time was longer than anticipated, but we still managed a response within five minutes.
Our driver pulled up in a spotless Sedan. He grimaced slightly towards the amount of baggage at the curb, but managed the task with minimal gripes with the assistance of hotel staff. Save my periodic coughing, the ride into Dorval was basically silent. English did not appear to be the driver's preferred language of communication. Only upon arriving at the terminal did we witness his altercation with airport security regarding drop-off at a depressed curb.
The wait time was longer than anticipated, but we still managed a response within five minutes.
Our driver pulled up in a spotless Sedan. He grimaced slightly towards the amount of baggage at the curb, but managed the task with minimal gripes with the assistance of hotel staff. Save my periodic coughing, the ride into Dorval was basically silent. English did not appear to be the driver's preferred language of communication. Only upon arriving at the terminal did we witness his altercation with airport security regarding drop-off at a depressed curb.
The vast portion of my Downtown Montréal observations did not extend to Pierre Elliot Trudeau Airport. Even upon entering, it was evident that the facility was inept in terms of queue management and passenger flow organization. After baggage drop off, we were required to navigate to the opposite end of the airport to go through security screening.
The lineups were managed exceptionally poorly, with passengers gestured left and right through. The airport itself was smaller than expected, possibly the tiniest of all the domestic airports I've ever set foot within. The security screening setup appeared very primitive: line separators positioned at random, feeding people towards the security bins at 90-degree angled turns. Moreover, the area between the after-security shops and screening was delineated by just another row of those line separators.
The lineups were managed exceptionally poorly, with passengers gestured left and right through. The airport itself was smaller than expected, possibly the tiniest of all the domestic airports I've ever set foot within. The security screening setup appeared very primitive: line separators positioned at random, feeding people towards the security bins at 90-degree angled turns. Moreover, the area between the after-security shops and screening was delineated by just another row of those line separators.
But, beyond its compact scale, the utterly abominable attitude of the screening staff left the most memorable impression. There was one metal detector gate and one full-body scanner. Upon approaching the two, one of the staff gestured to wait for the scanner. Known as the tardier choice of the two, I swiftly slid through the adjacent metal detector instead as it opened up.
The action was met with despicable attitude from the screening staff, a young male with long, curly strands. "Miss, didn't I tell you to wait over there?"
I looked at him in surprise, taken back by his unwarranted haughty attitude. "So can I go now?" noting that the gate did not beep.
But he decided to press further. "Did I tell you or not?"
"I'll just walk through again."
This time, the machine beeped. The staff insisted I remove my scarf for inspection, as "my neck was covered". But sheer removal of the scarf wasn't sufficient. He wanted to touch the scarf with evidently filthy gloves. A female member of staff noticed my concern and offered to inspect the scarf with new gloves. I wasn't willing, for I saw no issue with aversion towards others touching my personal belongings without valid reason.
At this point, another member of staff decided to intervene. The second male aggressively pulled aside the plastic barriers and pointed to the snaking lineup from which I had come. He threatened, "You can go back outside and line up and come back when you want to cooperate."
The words being spouted were pure nonsense to me, as if I was being targeted for no reason. I simply couldn't comprehend it, and felt even less inclined to oblige.
When I walked through the gate a second time, a manager - male, of course - asked for the scarf. I handed it over to the female staff, who inspected it and handed it back without issues. "Oh, now you want to give it" screeched the aggressive one, like an immature high schooler.
Next came the issue of boots. Technically, I had no issues removing the boots and passing them through the gates. But the manager and his possé had other plans in mind. "Hand him the boots! Give them to him!" The manager directed.
The boots were repositioned from the near the gate to in front of the staff, who ultimately declared that he "wasn't going to bend down to get (my) boots".
"No matter." I thought, and swung the boots onto a nearby table at waist height. The men did not budge. I wasn't going to oblige. This game of nerves and time-wasting wouldn't be ending with disrespect on my part.
The female staff took the boots, conducted her check and handed them back to me. Putting them back on, I glared at the trio of imbeciles and spat, in my croaky voice, "What's your problem?!".
"There's no problem." assured the manager. Though there clearly was.
The action was met with despicable attitude from the screening staff, a young male with long, curly strands. "Miss, didn't I tell you to wait over there?"
I looked at him in surprise, taken back by his unwarranted haughty attitude. "So can I go now?" noting that the gate did not beep.
But he decided to press further. "Did I tell you or not?"
"I'll just walk through again."
This time, the machine beeped. The staff insisted I remove my scarf for inspection, as "my neck was covered". But sheer removal of the scarf wasn't sufficient. He wanted to touch the scarf with evidently filthy gloves. A female member of staff noticed my concern and offered to inspect the scarf with new gloves. I wasn't willing, for I saw no issue with aversion towards others touching my personal belongings without valid reason.
At this point, another member of staff decided to intervene. The second male aggressively pulled aside the plastic barriers and pointed to the snaking lineup from which I had come. He threatened, "You can go back outside and line up and come back when you want to cooperate."
The words being spouted were pure nonsense to me, as if I was being targeted for no reason. I simply couldn't comprehend it, and felt even less inclined to oblige.
When I walked through the gate a second time, a manager - male, of course - asked for the scarf. I handed it over to the female staff, who inspected it and handed it back without issues. "Oh, now you want to give it" screeched the aggressive one, like an immature high schooler.
Next came the issue of boots. Technically, I had no issues removing the boots and passing them through the gates. But the manager and his possé had other plans in mind. "Hand him the boots! Give them to him!" The manager directed.
The boots were repositioned from the near the gate to in front of the staff, who ultimately declared that he "wasn't going to bend down to get (my) boots".
"No matter." I thought, and swung the boots onto a nearby table at waist height. The men did not budge. I wasn't going to oblige. This game of nerves and time-wasting wouldn't be ending with disrespect on my part.
The female staff took the boots, conducted her check and handed them back to me. Putting them back on, I glared at the trio of imbeciles and spat, in my croaky voice, "What's your problem?!".
"There's no problem." assured the manager. Though there clearly was.
 |  |
I departed the scene with rage swelling in my eyes, my overall airport and Montréal flying experience tainted. Similar to Ottawa, the racism was just was too apparent to deny. Dare I say that I experienced patriarchy firsthand as well.
YUL was concluded not only smaller than any of the domestic airports I had visited in my numerous instances of national travel, but a lowly, despicable one with poorly designed elements. Even setting the security screening incident aside, I couldn't comprehend that absence of an open lounge/rest area, the positioning of washroom facilities at odd ends of the corridor, and the reason for U.S. connections to be situated after domestic screening procedures.
YUL was concluded not only smaller than any of the domestic airports I had visited in my numerous instances of national travel, but a lowly, despicable one with poorly designed elements. Even setting the security screening incident aside, I couldn't comprehend that absence of an open lounge/rest area, the positioning of washroom facilities at odd ends of the corridor, and the reason for U.S. connections to be situated after domestic screening procedures.
Customer service levels witnessed at the in-airport eateries were also noticeably crude. I opted against the overpriced fare, taking to the corridor with disposable chopsticks to munch on leftovers accumulated over the past few days.
Our return flight was scheduled for 5 PM, just as our inbound trip had been. By the 4:15 PM mark, we had boarded the aircraft and comfortably assumed our seats. That said, a delayed departure would cause us to remain on the tarmac for at least fifty minutes more.
Our return flight was scheduled for 5 PM, just as our inbound trip had been. By the 4:15 PM mark, we had boarded the aircraft and comfortably assumed our seats. That said, a delayed departure would cause us to remain on the tarmac for at least fifty minutes more.
Thankfully, home was a mere 1-hour trip away. Flying at quicker speeds further reduced travel time to under sixty minutes.
 |  |
Landing in Pearson instilled tremendous relief - an unmatched sense of comfort associated with familiarity, as well as the eradicated struggle of French interpretation.
We entered into a festively decorated baggage claim area. The ceiling was high, floor space abundant, and belts clearly labelled. Signage and advertisements, if any, were clear and attractive in their use of colour. It was great to be home.
That said, far less impressive was the incredulous waiting time we'd endure for our luggage. Whether the grueling wait had been due to belt issues or other hindrances caused by holiday staff absences, a formal announcement had never resounded for our knowledge. Alas, the most important part was that our luggage hadn't been misplaced.
 |  |
Despite landing just before 6 PM, our exit into the terminal grounds wasn't made until well after 8 PM. By this point, I was ravenous. Dismissing Timmies and Starbucks, I headed to the upper floor for Subway instead.
Being able to articulate my order of a Half Suprimo Wrap in English never felt so relieving.
Looking homebound, we debated hopping into an airport limo given their convenient position outside Gate A. The seventy-dollar quote had us reconsidering the choice. Taxis were determined to fall within the range of fifty dollars. Uber, which was located one level down near the GO bus and Miway platforms, emerged as the most economic option at thirty dollars.
Afterword
Four days away from home granted me the opportunity to experience the culture of another province. I had remained on Canadian soil, which facilitated payments and telecommunications, but discovered a city entirely dissimilar to my own.
Experiencing Montréal as an adult had been intriguing, and definitely more memorable than the tour bus hopping I vaguely recalled from my childhood.
1) Language
As the only truly bilingual province, it should have been surprising that French preceded English in practically every single context. Most signs did not have possess an English translation. Likewise, locals defaulted to French first; most could speak English to some fluency, but would not initiate in the language unless English was heard first. I supposed this unspoken process to also be used in distinguishing local residents from out-of-towners.
2) Infrastructure
a) Downtown Road Sections/Cycling
The prevalence of in-boulevard cycle tracks integrated into the road network was a telltale sign of transit-oriented development in the downtown core. Rather than the palty attempts at encouraging cycling in the GTA, Montréal, like Vancouver (Vancity Vibes D19), had actively included the element into road planning. No matter the urban/suburban decisions to reduce vehicular speed limits, widen traffic lanes, realign curbs and sidewalks, or install bike signals, the availability of cycling infrastructure simply wasn't was widespread back home. Cycle tracks delineated from vehicular traffic improved safety and movability, therefore prompting more frequent usage of the facilities.
b) Pedestrian Crossing Signals
With the exception of low-traffic intersections, most crosswalks did not offer pedestrian push buttons for crossing. The signals appeared to sync with the traffic signal timing plan of the intersection, offering no chance of reducing the cycle length with manual interference.
Experiencing Montréal as an adult had been intriguing, and definitely more memorable than the tour bus hopping I vaguely recalled from my childhood.
1) Language
As the only truly bilingual province, it should have been surprising that French preceded English in practically every single context. Most signs did not have possess an English translation. Likewise, locals defaulted to French first; most could speak English to some fluency, but would not initiate in the language unless English was heard first. I supposed this unspoken process to also be used in distinguishing local residents from out-of-towners.
2) Infrastructure
a) Downtown Road Sections/Cycling
The prevalence of in-boulevard cycle tracks integrated into the road network was a telltale sign of transit-oriented development in the downtown core. Rather than the palty attempts at encouraging cycling in the GTA, Montréal, like Vancouver (Vancity Vibes D19), had actively included the element into road planning. No matter the urban/suburban decisions to reduce vehicular speed limits, widen traffic lanes, realign curbs and sidewalks, or install bike signals, the availability of cycling infrastructure simply wasn't was widespread back home. Cycle tracks delineated from vehicular traffic improved safety and movability, therefore prompting more frequent usage of the facilities.
b) Pedestrian Crossing Signals
With the exception of low-traffic intersections, most crosswalks did not offer pedestrian push buttons for crossing. The signals appeared to sync with the traffic signal timing plan of the intersection, offering no chance of reducing the cycle length with manual interference.
Source: stm (Société de transport de Montréal)
c) Transit
The stm system comprised of four underground subway lines and above-ground bus routes. Travel throughout the network was zone-based like Vancouver, though spanned larger ranges in terms of kilometrage. Zones were marked as A, B, C, or D, with fares increased accordingly once crossing boundaries. For the purposes of our trip, we did not depart Zone A, thus paid the lowest fare (besides student rates and special discounts) for the L'Occasionnelle and OPUS cards.
Worth noting was the option of purchasing non-rechargeable and rechargeable cards, for it allowed visitors to access the same rates without a mandatory deposit. For comparison, PRESTO and Compass rates are cheaper than single-time purchases by cash or contactless payment, such as credit/debit card, but require purchase of a stored value card. That said, PRESTO and Compass cards do not expire, whereas OPUS was informed to require replacement every four years. Verifying transaction history and card balance online was also not a feature supported by OPUS.
The Metro proved exceptionally easy and swift to navigate, allowing seamless travel within and between Zones A and B. Stations were clearly labelled and the platforms generally free of debris and trash. A handful of homeless were still spotted occasionally, though the stairwells and corners of the stations were undoubtedly cleaner than that of Toronto and New York. Subway cars, while narrow, were brightly illuminated and also quite clean with slippery, plastic seats.
Buses, on the other hand, are pretty much as filthy as any other municipal transit vehicle. Some buses offer USB ports for charging, though the similarities are greater than their deviations.
Acceptable frequency was observed for both methods of transit, even during weekends. The Orange Line, in particular, ran every 5 to 9 mins. In addition to Metro and bus routes, REM (electric train) and shared taxibus services are also offered, but are believed to adopt a different pricing system.
d) Vehicles
License plates are installed only on the back of vehicles, making it difficult to locate Ubers. Reactivity was restricted as we'd need to wait until the vehicle passed us to confirm.
The stm system comprised of four underground subway lines and above-ground bus routes. Travel throughout the network was zone-based like Vancouver, though spanned larger ranges in terms of kilometrage. Zones were marked as A, B, C, or D, with fares increased accordingly once crossing boundaries. For the purposes of our trip, we did not depart Zone A, thus paid the lowest fare (besides student rates and special discounts) for the L'Occasionnelle and OPUS cards.
Worth noting was the option of purchasing non-rechargeable and rechargeable cards, for it allowed visitors to access the same rates without a mandatory deposit. For comparison, PRESTO and Compass rates are cheaper than single-time purchases by cash or contactless payment, such as credit/debit card, but require purchase of a stored value card. That said, PRESTO and Compass cards do not expire, whereas OPUS was informed to require replacement every four years. Verifying transaction history and card balance online was also not a feature supported by OPUS.
The Metro proved exceptionally easy and swift to navigate, allowing seamless travel within and between Zones A and B. Stations were clearly labelled and the platforms generally free of debris and trash. A handful of homeless were still spotted occasionally, though the stairwells and corners of the stations were undoubtedly cleaner than that of Toronto and New York. Subway cars, while narrow, were brightly illuminated and also quite clean with slippery, plastic seats.
Buses, on the other hand, are pretty much as filthy as any other municipal transit vehicle. Some buses offer USB ports for charging, though the similarities are greater than their deviations.
Acceptable frequency was observed for both methods of transit, even during weekends. The Orange Line, in particular, ran every 5 to 9 mins. In addition to Metro and bus routes, REM (electric train) and shared taxibus services are also offered, but are believed to adopt a different pricing system.
d) Vehicles
License plates are installed only on the back of vehicles, making it difficult to locate Ubers. Reactivity was restricted as we'd need to wait until the vehicle passed us to confirm.
3) Food
Bread and cheese were the fundamental components of nearly every dish sampled. Regardless of the vendor, our purchases were found to be plush and delectable, while cheesy elements aromatic and savoury, but not at all salty. The flavours were refined, well-balanced, and harmonious. This observation would extend beyond the typically European elements as well, for we had not encountered a single bad meal during our stay.
Service was courteous and unhurried, however this description ought not be confused with sluggishness. Front-line staff were generally found efficient, progressing about their duties in a style evoking calmness, even if they weren't.
Praised previously was the impressive queue management for both Schwartz's Deli and St-Viateur Bagel; by separating the crowd into dine-in and takeout lines, more customers could be served in a timely manner. The dine-in line was always longer, but both moved at acceptable paces. Outliers for amicable customer service was the grouchy middle-aged lady at Schwartz's Deli and the entirety of servers at Archibald inside the YUL airport.
4) Tourism
For those interested in sightseeing, the city is brimming with historical landmarks, architecture, sculptures, and artwork. My priority lay with self-guided exploration of local districts, rather than tourist destinations, so I found little of interest besides a brief stopover at Notre-Dame. Retail boutiques weren't extensive either, causing most expenses to fall within the categories of dining, 15% tax, and gratuities.
I enjoyed wandering through the quaint streets of downtown Montréal. The atmosphere was serene and non-imposing, though I'd prefer tiled sidewalks and brick laneways be swapped for smooth asphalt and wide concrete pedestrian clearways instead. Settlement was hardly observed, but unsuspecting discontinuities were bound to result in accidental ankle-rolling.
Cleanliness levels were variable and proportional to homeless sightings. There were none at Victoria Square, but at least one hunched soul at Place d'Armes and the most in the vicinity of Mont-Royal station.
Bread and cheese were the fundamental components of nearly every dish sampled. Regardless of the vendor, our purchases were found to be plush and delectable, while cheesy elements aromatic and savoury, but not at all salty. The flavours were refined, well-balanced, and harmonious. This observation would extend beyond the typically European elements as well, for we had not encountered a single bad meal during our stay.
Service was courteous and unhurried, however this description ought not be confused with sluggishness. Front-line staff were generally found efficient, progressing about their duties in a style evoking calmness, even if they weren't.
Praised previously was the impressive queue management for both Schwartz's Deli and St-Viateur Bagel; by separating the crowd into dine-in and takeout lines, more customers could be served in a timely manner. The dine-in line was always longer, but both moved at acceptable paces. Outliers for amicable customer service was the grouchy middle-aged lady at Schwartz's Deli and the entirety of servers at Archibald inside the YUL airport.
4) Tourism
For those interested in sightseeing, the city is brimming with historical landmarks, architecture, sculptures, and artwork. My priority lay with self-guided exploration of local districts, rather than tourist destinations, so I found little of interest besides a brief stopover at Notre-Dame. Retail boutiques weren't extensive either, causing most expenses to fall within the categories of dining, 15% tax, and gratuities.
I enjoyed wandering through the quaint streets of downtown Montréal. The atmosphere was serene and non-imposing, though I'd prefer tiled sidewalks and brick laneways be swapped for smooth asphalt and wide concrete pedestrian clearways instead. Settlement was hardly observed, but unsuspecting discontinuities were bound to result in accidental ankle-rolling.
Cleanliness levels were variable and proportional to homeless sightings. There were none at Victoria Square, but at least one hunched soul at Place d'Armes and the most in the vicinity of Mont-Royal station.
5) People
a) Attire
Locals dressed decidedly European, placing emphasis on sleek, neutral palettes. They were often spotted looking quite put-together with muted tones and a clean appearance. Vibrant hues and clashing prints were kept at bay. A few avant-garde youngins had taken to coloured treads, legwarmers, and cute accessories as outfit highlights, but the overall disposition remained coordinated instead of rugged. The discrepancy was obvious when evaluating against the sweatpants-with-slides-and-socks combo of the average Torontonian teen.
b) Attitude
Local residents were not detected as sloppy, brusque characters, however they tended to embody a sense of aggression when maneuvering through a crowd, or even about an individual. Countless times were we subject to invasion of personal space and unnecessary bumping. Fellow commuters neither alerted you of their intent to pass, nor excused themselves before proceeding to slam their belongings (or bodies) into yours. Somehow even the widest corridors could not deter others from infringing on another's personal bubble.
The same remarks would apply to instances of photo-taking, where residents would simply draw near, push by, or enter the frame without any shred of hesitation. Originating from neighbourhoods where documentation of one's surroundings was decidedly common, these actions spurred confusion and distaste.
a) Attire
Locals dressed decidedly European, placing emphasis on sleek, neutral palettes. They were often spotted looking quite put-together with muted tones and a clean appearance. Vibrant hues and clashing prints were kept at bay. A few avant-garde youngins had taken to coloured treads, legwarmers, and cute accessories as outfit highlights, but the overall disposition remained coordinated instead of rugged. The discrepancy was obvious when evaluating against the sweatpants-with-slides-and-socks combo of the average Torontonian teen.
b) Attitude
Local residents were not detected as sloppy, brusque characters, however they tended to embody a sense of aggression when maneuvering through a crowd, or even about an individual. Countless times were we subject to invasion of personal space and unnecessary bumping. Fellow commuters neither alerted you of their intent to pass, nor excused themselves before proceeding to slam their belongings (or bodies) into yours. Somehow even the widest corridors could not deter others from infringing on another's personal bubble.
The same remarks would apply to instances of photo-taking, where residents would simply draw near, push by, or enter the frame without any shred of hesitation. Originating from neighbourhoods where documentation of one's surroundings was decidedly common, these actions spurred confusion and distaste.
RSS Feed