Ask anyone in Montreal about the city of Toronto and you will get a rehearsed answer. With a slightly bitter tone, they will mention that Toronto has no life, and is a prudish colourless city dedicated to money (in one way or another). Some of them will degrade the Maple Leafs, while subtly attempting to avoid discussions about the now-defunct Montreal Expos. Montreal’s existance has always been, at some level, related to Toronto. The common comparisons are that Montreal is French while Toronto is English, Montreal is relaxed and laid back, while Toronto is overworked, among other similar themes. Many of these comparisons are just no longer honestly applicable, with Montreal being a fully bilingual city (with the exception of irrelevant linguistic extemists), and Toronto having imported a lot of Montreal’s cultural elite during the late 70s. However, anyone will tell you that Montreal still has a cultural je ne sais quoi about it that has not yet been duplicated in Toronto.
To find an inkling of the difference, I found myself wandering the east bank of Mount Royale on Sunday Afternoon. Behind the statue of the Father of Confederation Sir George-Étienne Cartier, I found a vibrant group of people who had braved the clouds to beat away at their drums – literally.
No one can tell you with any certainty how the Montreal Tam-Tams started – or, with any honesty, what the purpose is. All we know is that people, old and young, married and single, gather every Sunday to celebrate. Anyone can join in with their own drums – or anything else for that matter. I sighted one gentleman playing in tune on his saxaphone while the party was under way.
Dancing is also a part, with people freely joining the fray. At times the dancers take over the center of the circle of drums where they are cheered on by the drummers and their confederates in the crowd.
Couples are known to come to enjoy the music. The entire park was filled with pairs of people out to have a good time. Maybe too good a time – you could smell the rancid mixture of Marajuana, Alcohol and cigarettes all over the grounds. The smell had reached such a pungent intensity that for a moment I thought I had returned to my undergraduate days in that infamous Playboy Magazine-approved party school, McGill University.
In the distance I saw some sort of battle further along the slopes of Mount Royal. Walking along I found myself watching a group of enthusiasts attacking each other with foam swords and shields. In a medieval version of Paintball, they wailed at each other with the defeated meekly waiting their next chance during the next battle.
Some of the gladiators took elaborate steps to dress appropriately. This gentleman and his two “squires” spent about 20 minutes putting on his armour before he struck up this knightly pose.
Wouldn’t you know it – I found the spirit of Montreal while watching this fellow rush in (only to see him get decapitated moments later in the circle of steel). Montreal is, without a doubt, a poor cousin of wealthy Vancouver and egotistical Toronto. Stores close early on Sunday (eventhough Montrealers long ago abandoned any sort of connection to organized religion), and on weekdays between Monday and Thursday. Real Estate investment is stifled by restrictive land-lord laws that put power in the hands of renters. Attempts to turn the city into an IT hub were laughable with half-empty buildings on Mountain Street as proof of the hubris of our political leadership. However, with all this economic idiocy, Montreal still lacks a lot of the ethnic and racial tension one can see bubbling beneath the surface in Vancouver, and the mindless capitalism that is poisoning Toronto.
Maybe the truth is that Montreal choose to be poor so it could be more humaine to those of us who call it home.