After an absence of seven years, I’ve been back in this wonderful city for five days. My wife, who just got her Masters in Social Work has come for a conference in group therapy techniques. She’s learning stuff, it’s a write off and we’re seeing old friends.

And I’ve been re-enjoying this extraordinary city, where I spent seven happy years writing television here and for the CBC in Toronto.

Some observations. Old world habits remain in place in many ways. Men still shake hands saying goodbye after meeting on a corner or finishing lunch. People still shop daily for their evening meal — no stocking up groceries for weeks in advance. At five thirty, Montrealers flood the supermarkets and depanneurs (mom and pop grocery stores) to buy foods to make dinner for the night.

The Bookseller in his small, but packed store on St. Catherine still shows up every day in a suit jacket and tie. Old world. Old ways.

If Montrealers don’t shop for dinner, they eat out.

And they do eat out — often. And leisurely. There are no first seatings, second seatings at the many bistros and restaurants. You meet people for dinner at seven and you can stay at the table talking, arguing, discussing all night, with no glares from the waiter or owner.

Montrealers love eating outdoors, on “terraces.” When I first got to Montreal in 1995, the wonderful Elise Cartier, who worked for the company who hired me, was showing me the temporary apartments they had set aside for me to inspect. It was February and snow was still on the ground. BUT … it was a very warm day.

Out came the tables. Elise told me that this would happen on any day the weather would permit it, whatever the season. That’s how important outdoor eating is there.

Well, it’s spring and the tables are out in full force now and one can enjoy eating outdoors almost anywhere. The dining mood is contagiously joyous. The Plateau has a bunch of places like that, with all kinds of cuisine, and little streets off of Laurier have many ethnic places — all with good, reasonably priced foods.

In my roamings, I was happy to see that many of the restaurants and stores I frequented were still in business. Very few closings and boarded up buildings. One exception, Au Bistro Gourmet on St. Mathieu, the first lunch my wife and I had when we came here to look for schools and apartments. We walked down Guy St. to St. Mathieu, saw this little place in the basement of a building, went in and had a wonderful lunch. Only ten tables, but all beautifully set up and delicious, moderately priced food. We went back often. Sad to see it gone.

The women are still fascinating and lovely. Your head will turn often when walking down Sherbrooke or St. Catherine or anywhere, for that matter. They don’t walk, these ladies, they seem to stride, tall and proud. Is it the Frenchness? Whatever, they’re a joy to look at. Their legs are gorgeous — all that walking, up and down hills, metro stairs .. there’s a lot to be said for staying out of cars.

I think I saw some statistic that Montreal is 2nd to LA in per capita spending on beauty and cosmetics in North America. What I saw, though, wasn’t cosmetic. The faces, the bodies — unique and wonderful.

I’ve also noticed that there are few very fat people. Most Montrealers seem well within normal weight limits. When I saw “larger” than expected bodies, they belonged mostly to young girls. The unhealthy eating habits of American kids have infected the kids here, I think.

The transit system is still a joy. Each bus stop has a map of the bus route, plus a schedule of arrivals at that corner, which are very accurate. If a 24 bus is listed as being at the corner of Sherbrooke and Guy at, say, 3:47, it’ll most likely be there at 3:47.

St. Denis and St. Laurent also. Some higher end, but still great value. Then there’s Schwartz’s, for the greatest smoked meat ever. Long lines at lunch. Great sandwiches.

Oh, and the bagels are wonderful. Completely different from American bagels — thinner, sweeter and doughier. Love them.

The French are up their old tricks language-wise. I first was here at the height of the separatist movement. Language police roamed the streets, the French resented the English who didn’t speak French and the public school system systematically impeded French kids from being bi-lingual. The upshot was that forcing the English speakers to speak French created bi-lingual boys and girls whose work options were fairly unlimited, while French kids were doomed to remain in Quebec, and could only work in exclusively French speaking companies. In short, the cultural obsession with French held the future of their kids hostage to their linguistic ideology.

When I first got here, I’d go to a shop or store, politely say “bon jour” and was spoken to in French. I’d excuse myself and continue in English. They’d continue in French. I’d then explain that I just got here from Los Angeles — and big smiles crossed their faces and suddenly they knew English … “Ah, American….Los Angeles ….”

I did that all the time, in the same stores, to the same people, for six years. Same result. What the French here seem to really dislike are the native born English who don’t speak French.

They’re still going after the Jews. A Hebrew school is threatened with shut down because their “hours” of education fall short of what the French say is necessary. The school is strongly religious, and the kids are taught four languages — Hebrew, Yiddish, French and English, as well as Math, Science and History, but that’s not enough for the French, who I believe are structurally anti-Semetic, despite the huge Jewish population there.

I’m reminded of how they refused to restock Jewish foods during Yom Kippur and other holidays because they didn’t have the dual French/English labels. The holidays, of course, brought a rush on these products, and companies couldn’t re-label enough of them and once the initial “English” only stockpile ran out, it couldn’t be replenished.

Just yesterday, coming out of Chapters Book Store, there was a protest against Israel for the flotilla incident. None of the speakers had any of the facts straight, just some of the bogus reports like the Israeli soldier pointing a rifle at a one year old infant. But walking among them, it was more than a protest against the Gaza blockade, it was hatred against the Jews. I heard comments like that among the protesters.

Caught the new Cirque du Soleil and didn’t like it. I worked with them many years ago to write a dramatic series based on their personnel. Got to a bible, a pilot, ready for two more scripts and then the network executives did their musical chairs thing and all projects were dumped.

I didn’t like the current show, as I didn’t like some of the previous ones. They’ve become so earnest and socially conscious and have lost much of their joy.

A negative about Canada is the disdain for America. Not so much in Montreal, but the tone is everywhere nevertheless. It’s a love hate thing. When I first got there in 1995, a month didn’t go by without reading an article in a paper or magazine titled “Who Is A Canadian?” “What Does It Mean To Be a Canadian?” “What Is the Canadian Identity?”

And the upshot of most of the articles is that they couldn’t define it.

They don’t know what they are. What they DO know is what they’re NOT — not Americans. So they define themselves mostly as not American. A lot of the articles began with sentences like “Unlike our neighbors to the South, Canadians …. etc.” Or “Canadians react differently to …. than Americans ….”

One great Montreal innovation that has caught on in London, Paris and other cities — Bicycle rental centers. It’s called Bixi. You can rent a bicycle at any Bixi location (over two hundred in Montreal) and drop it off at another location. What a great idea. Maisonneuve and other streets have been re-designed for two-way bicycle lanes and you can go from one end of the city to another for the cost of a rental.

I covered a lot of ground with that transportation choice. I huffed and puffed, but I saw more than I would have on foot or by bus.

A beautiful feature of Montrealers is their love of gardening. Any house or building with even the smallest patch of soil in front has flowers galore. Such has always been the case. They love their gardening. In my bicycle travels I saw many people planting and tending their little gardens.

Caught a couple of jazz clubs, ate some great meals and did my standup at the Comedyworks Friday night. Don’t want to sound like Kenny Bania, but …. I killed, Jerry…I killed.

All in all, a wonderful place to see.

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