I must say that the best shower in the world is the one that you have after cycling in the heat and dust for six hours and then driving in your dirty sweaty clothes for an hour to Montréal. Especially when the shower has lots of pressure and lots of heat. The water was turning brown at my feet as the stone dust washed off and I felt more and more human as I worked out the kinks in my shoulders.
After washing off the remains of Le Petit Train du Nord, we changed into big girl and big boy clothes and headed out onto the cobblestone streets of Montréal.
Joseff Ribkoff - the only designer I know and recognize - thanks to the dress my mother bought for my sister's wedding last year.
We explored the old town. We marvelled at the stone architecture and the old stone columns.
After having spent four days in rural Québec, do you know what we noticed? Montréal isn't nearly as French as it seems. It sounds French and you hear people speaking French wherever you go but, if you speak with the slightest hint of an English accent, they immediately switch to English even if, as I did, you continue to respond to their English with French.
Not that we were complaining - it just seemed odd after having spent so many days surrounded by people who didn't speak much if any English.
We bought maple fudge and I found a funky ring and matching earrings that I bought as a souvenir.
We ate dinner in a fancy french restaurant.
We lingered over Sunday breakfast reading the newspapers and sipping our coffees.
We had Sunday brunch in a lovely outdoor spot tucked away between buildings.
We knew we had to leave but the relaxed pace of the week lingered over us and we didn't feel pressure to do so.
When we finally did climb into the car for the long drive, a peaceful silence followed us home. We hardly talked. Having spent so much time together, we were just happy to be in each other's company. Quietly lost in our thoughts, looking out the window, reliving the journey we had just been on together.