When young Hanno, who we'd babysat in Durham since he was 4-years-old, invited us to his wedding with Julie in Quebec, I was very touched, but naturally assumed we couldn't make it, given the logistics of getting there. What do I know? There are direct, cheap flights from Brussels to Montreal, so for the final week of the summer hols Pete and I jetted off to join the festivities.
Going from one French-speaking region to another didn't exactly feel like getting away from it all, but we've been missing Canada since moving from Vancouver, and it was wonderful to be back. Montreal is mainly an island in the St Lawrence river, and we could catch a boat to our B&B while not feeling bad about speaking French with a terrible accent, because that's what everyone here does.
Renting cars in North America has been somewhat messed up since the Covid pandemic, which meant that the cheapest deal I could find was for a truck. Pete was over the moon, fulfilling a fantasy since we moved to Texas, and we picked up a 3/4 ton monstrosity that would be illegal on European roads then headed north into the mountains.
The ceremony took place at a beautiful hotel overlooking wooded valleys. Julie is an opera singer, so the reception was stacked with world-class musicians entertaining everyone with their singing and playing. I briefly considered the alcohol-fueled idea of banging out some Billy Joel numbers on the piano, but thought better of it.
Hanno wasn't the only child I caught up with; his younger brother Nathan was there. Nathan was the first baby whose nappy I ever changed. He's now an investment banker in Munich. The existential tailspin this threw me into is difficult to describe. Later, I asked Pete if he wanted me to rock him to sleep or sing him a lullaby (he shrugged, and turned back to his iPad). But seeing kids whose life you've been involved in, however minorly, grow up and do crazy things like get married is a source of much pride. And if I can lean on some of them for free financial advice in the future, well.
After the partying was over, Pete and I continued north to spend a few days in Lac Taureau regional park, where we paddle-boarded and even swam. After a very urban summer, it was fab to get some time in nature ... until we got annoyed at how slow the wi-fi was. Then it was back on a plane to Belgium, where I'd missed the "+1 day" note on the arrival information, so poor Pete started school a single jet-lagged sleep later. Still, these are the things that make a man of you, and if he turns out half as well as Hanno and Nathan I will consider my parenting to be successfully concluded.
How it started.
How it's going. No real change, for me or Nathan.
Back in a civilised country, where the Queen's still on the bank notes.
We went to the Montreal Science Museum, where (of course!) it's all about hockey.
And kittens.
Julie introduced us to Mr Puffs, invented in Montreal and the most disgusting/delicious thing ever.
I tried to enroll Pete at the local university. Despite his genius, he was rejected for being "only ten years old". Hmph.
Our transport.
The reason we're here! Hanno and Julie's wedding.
The kids' table.
The great white north was surprisingly warm and green.
So warm that someone braver than me went all in!
A final bowl of poutine before home.
