Remember the 75 year old gentleman we met a couple of days ago. Well, he insisted we spend the remainder of our stay in Montreal with him (JG) and his wife Michel and so we packed up and cycled the short distance to his home for a homestay.
It didn’t go without incident.
Riding across a road intersection, someone yelled, “Up the All Blacks” from a car waiting at the lights. Turning the heads in unison to keep the balance, a guy was giving us the clenched fist with and arm salute. Then yelled, “I lived in Wellington for a while.” I yelled back, “Kamatee kmatee” to birdge rapport in the universal language, the smile.
Shortly after this, a young cyclist pulled up and rode with us for a couple of kilometres. Naturally intrigued by our journey, another slip of paper was given if he ever ventured down under for a visit. There will always be a bed for him. We are going to need a bigger house on our return if all five hundred or so invited rock up. Thank goodness we have friends scattered across New Zealand as we said there will always be a bed at friends if we are not home! That’s alright isn’t it?
At the base of the ramp after crossing the Sainte-Anne-de-Bellevue bridge are funky cafe’s that are stopping destinations for Sunday cylcists and the like. It was just a humming conversation one after the other with different lycra shapes and sizes. Offers of home stays were incredible and photo’s snapped of our rig, it was red carpet type stuff!!!!! It certainly was a who’s who given the types of boats moored waiting in the que for the canal lock.
Clouds banking up had us finish the rest of the distance to arrive at JG’s house. He had previously told us to just make ourselves at home as he and Michel were making there way home from Quebec as they leave the doors of their house unlocked! Do you remember the days where you used to do that because neighbourhoods weren’t polluted by threat of theft?
And the home bottled relish that was placed on the table as we sat down for Sheppard’s Pie was something else we remembered our parents used to do. The neighbours across the road joined us. They were from China and the Dad doesn’t speak English or French or Maori.
Made the evening fun. Except we weren’t playing charades as a game. We were playing charades just to have a conversation with each other.
Hope it wasn’t that other type of tea you puff!!!!!!!
Two words, both words, two syllables, sounds like Jackie …