Hochelaga Grit, Montreal

I’m sleeping on the laundry floor in Juls’ apartment in the District d’Hochelaga, off Rue Ontario Est near the predominantly French speaking Latin quarter. Although the city is bilingual, I’m impressed with Juls’ deliberate immersion into the French culture.

One morning she is translating aloud from the Québécois newspaper over breakfast; an article quoting Hochelaga as the second poorest district in Montreal with alarmingly high statistics of unemployment, of single parents on benefits, lowest education rates etc. etc. Juls is surprised at this insight into her homely neighborhood. I too had taken an easy liking to the place.

Rue Ontario Est has a boulevard with a crude mix of no frills’ North American diners and Dollarama stores, of tacky pseudo antique and ‘sexy shops’. There’s a second hand clothing megastore opposite the local library, and the specialised chocolate shop and grocery neighbours a selection of boutiques with yellowing manikins in the windows dolled up in miniskirts and tight breasted nylon t-shirts. The prostitutes on the corner of Rue Joliette are part of the community. The local market, Marché Public Maisonneuve, is next to an important looking government building with ample courtyard and a picturesque concrete fountain. The market has a small selection of organic fruit and veg and old men in worn suits drink café au lait in the middle of the day.

The Atomic Café come DVD store becomes a favourite late night haunt. The owner, Gill, a funky David Spade look-alike in skinny black jeans and long streaked hair, has a calm demeanor and hesitant English as he adjusts the café computer’s French settings for me. It’s a retro, laid back place. The DVDs are categorized beyond me (by Director.. or Producer), and the black and white TV, silver bulbous lamps, and Etch a Sketches on the matt-white circular coffee table seem more an indulgence of Gill’s favourite things, rather than any pretension.

To me, Hochelaga feels a bit gritty, but with character, as they say, and it feels safe. Only 15 minutes and a couple of Metro stops east of downtown Montreal, and sharing the quaintly ornate, although somewhat impractical, winding outdoor metal staircases that characterize the nearby trendy art and student District d’Plateau, Hochelaga’s grit is sure to become only more and more palatable (Steph and Jul’s real estate tip of the day), ...although even grit looks pretty in snow.

A few blocks north of the boulevard you can see the looming tower of the Olympic Stadium, Montreal’s white elephant. Built for the 1976 Summer Games, they ran out of money, or a workers strike or something meant that it wasn’t finished on time. The tower that was designed to open the stadium roof apparently stood half finished until the late 80s and the roof not made retractable for another couple of years.

It’s since had other structural challenges (a falling concrete column etc.), been remodeled and the roof replaced a couple of times. The end result is a stadium dome at the total cost to Montreal tax payers somewhere in excess of $1 billion. The roof doesn’t open. I’m not sure Montreal has a professional baseball team anyway. But the aesthetic design and views from the 556 foot high redundant tower are impressive. No doubt the more so if you hadn't paid for it.

Obscure Tangents

Wil Murray's exhibition at the Atomic Cafe - Art that's all colour and candy, vomit and glitter (McGill Daily)

The Atomic Cafe 1982 cult movie in brief