Montreal: Day 3

I need an entire retinue of staff to keep me organized. True to Pisces form, belonging in another world, I'm lost in this one. So far I have left one room key in a taxi, my bank card in a bank machine, and all my maps in a remote, mysterious pocket of my luggage where they were lost for two days. Anything not attached to my body becomes mislaid. At home it's no great problem; things resurface after a day or a week-long passage through a worm hole.

I spent the better part of this morning wandering back and forth through the city in search of an elusive free internet access. Someone online told us all the libraries provide it. Danny had already found the closest one closed for renovations, so I set off for la bibliotheque centrale. I found my way to Sherbrooke metro station and strolled along peaceful rue Cherrier to lovely Parc-la-fontaine and the adjacent library, a venerable building of stone pillars and echoing chambers filled with shafts of noon light. No, they told me, the city libraries do not provide free internet access. I had to walk a few blocks back along rue Sherbrooke to la bibliotheque nationale, where I'm sitting now in a vast, hushed hall under Tiffany-style stained-glass skylights.

I adore Montreal. Pisces would happily assume incorporeal form and drift wraith-like through the streets and lights of this vibrant city. But I would have to inhabit some body or other from time to time to partake of it's sensual pleasures.

Saturday night, Danny djjo and I joined a few others from Guelph at le Stud bar, where I danced bare-chested with a hairy chorister from San Jose.

Sunday I attended at least part of all three concert blocks. Each one includes between five and eight choirs, lasting up to three hours. The first one began with the Chicago Gay Men's Chorus, 73 voices strong and highly professional, beautiful singing that brought laughter to my guts and tears to my eyes on several occasions. Other highlights from yesterday included a mixed voices ensemble from the Turtle Creek Chorale and the San Jose Gay Men's Chorus. But my favourite was the Rainbow Harmony Project from Winnipeg. They performed a Native piece with bird songs, a rain stick, drum and other percussion and weird vocal effects. When a soprano soloist went to stand silhouetted by a light high in the back of the stage and gave a sacred, melancholy, wordless song, the hair stood up on the back of my neck.

Unfortunately choices must be made. With 167 choirs performing, two different venues provide concurrent appearances. People rush from one to another to hear the more famous ensembles, sometimes missing out on gems like the Winnipeg group which had only 19 voices.

I can't keep up with the pace, either. By the middle of the second concert block my concentration was drained, so I took my leave and met Danny. We had a pleasant dinner alone at a Syrian restaurant.

The variety and quality of dining here is phenomenal.

I went back to the evening block. I was tired though. One ensemble presented a highly religious performance, which pushed my tolerance to the limit. Yes, these voices all have a place and a right to be heard, but I don't have to sit through them.

I left the evening concert early for a big kick-off party in the top of Montreal's highest tower. It was packed with high-energy. Danny and I arrived separately and lost one another for a first hour. We spent the better part of the evening getting to know handlebear in person, which was a great pleasure. The three of us have a lunch date tomorrow.

I saw dakoopst only briefly yesterday, long enough for a greeting hug. A proper meeting is in order. Connections are difficult, with so much else to do, but we have until the weekend.

I crawled out of bed at a decent hour this morning to attend a workshop on swing rhythm. I need dire practice. This Pisces may drift transparently over the surface of life, but I've always done it in a German march rhythm. Time I loosened up, as long as my head stays attached to my shoulders.