A Day in Montreal, Quebec

I love Canada! After a successful training in Brockville, I was back in my tiny Hyundai and headed up the Kings Highway along the St. Lawrence river back to Montreal. The training had fascinated me because of the cultural differences that showed up right there in the classroom. The group was warm, receptive and had a great dynamic. I noticed how they responded to activities differently from my American participants, and how that kept me observant. Training across cultures is critical for the vitality of my skills, and I relished the opportunity to be surprised.

I reflected on the wonderful classroom day as I drove past a tiny blue church, a cemetery, small towns and people out walking. I stopped a couple of times to gaze at the river and the enormous ships passing by. In some ways I didn’t want to leave this peaceful back road where I hardly saw another car. I knew once I reached Montreal there would be traffic to contend with and crowds, but I pushed on.

At long last I reached Montreal and ran smack into a terrible traffic jam. I let the GPS take me into the old port, and right away saw a couple of homeless men wandering around the streets. I reminded myself to suspend all judgement of the city, positive or negative, until I had had a chance to observe.

I parked the car and headed to a cafe where that plan failed immediately. As anyone in my family could tell you, I get grumpy when I’m hungry due to low blood sugar. I passed a couple of spectacular buildings right away, but all I could think of was food.

Luckily I found a perfect sunny outdoor cafe with little tables where I could sit and watch people go by. Everyone around me was conversing in French and sipping cappuccinos, and I waited for someone to come and take my order. Several minutes went by, and a young server came out to give me a menu. Long after I had decided what to eat I was still sitting there waiting. I grew hungrier and more grumpy. I started to make judgements in my mind about the service and everything else.

Suddenly the lightbulb came on. Perhaps I didn’t know the rules and I simply needed to ask. I went inside the cafe and waved to the owner.

“I’d like to order some lunch,” I said, trying to tone down my hypoglycemic irritation. He smiled at me and gestured to the cash register.

“You place your order here and we’ll bring it to you.”

Fantastic. Strike one for the tourist.

I never cease to be amazed by how much cultural assumptions influence our actions, even in small ways. The trouble arises when we think we’re operating from the same platform. Nonetheless I enjoyed my lunch and the view of Notre Dame de Bonsecours church. I let the sun heal my mood, got up and strolled through Old Montreal. What a sight! Everywhere I turned was grand 18th and 19th century architecture, lively Montrealers, narrow streets and shops.

I had a marvelous time watching people and families enjoying the Place Jacques Cartier.

I eventually stumbled on Basilique Notre Dame, one of the most beautiful churches I’d ever seen.

All too soon the time came to wander back toward the car and make the journey to the airport. I soaked in the sun and the scene around me.

I felt gratitude for the opportunity to come to Canada and help my clients build a bridge to India. I looked around Montreal and took in its feel, its history.

If you haven’t had the opportunity, I hope that you will take the time to visit Canada. For those living in the United States, we share some cultural traits with our neighbor to the north, but there is much to learn from the differences. If you go to Canada, expect to be welcomed most heartily, and do try the chocolate torte at the Buelle Bistro in Brockville. You won’t be sorry.