Queer Life: December 2005

The Montreal culture klash

March 2002

I’m just not prepared for all those bouncy Montrealers who keep kissing me.

I’ve spent the last 10 years in Toronto, and darn it, I’m stiff and proud of it. Now I’m part of the reverse migration -- I took the 401 back home. But what is it with all this chummy lip-locking?

Let me start from the beginning. A decade ago, I was a Montrealer. I was always relaxed, I went out drinking with friends 'most every night. I worked and played in equal measure. I dressed like a happy-go-lucky bohemian, with rolled-up pants full of holes and lots of hipster black. Hugs and kisses were second nature.

I was a Montrealer, natch.

But I got tired of the endless sovereignty debate, of the lousy economy, of the language battles in the corner stores over whether to say Merci or Thank you for my du Maurrrriers (it must be pronounced in English but with a long R sound to make it properly French).

Everyone I knew was hitting the asphalt for Hogtown. I gave in too, and moved, packing a rented blue van and taking to the highway.

Got a job. Started wearing a button-down collar. Oh, the transition was slow, at first.

But I became a Toronto person. I didn't have time to drink so much, nor to socialize with friends -- I worked 12 hours a day. I was always networking, networking. On the phone, building relationships with the people who counted.

Learning to never, ever touch, unless it was a quick handshake. Eventually, that handshake became a satisfying bit of -- lone -- human contact. I perfected the art of the faint nod to acknowledge someone's presence. Eventually, I was able to scrunch my eyes slightly to indicate a greeting.

I moved away from my monochromatic wardrobe and started wearing navy blue and sombre browns. I seriously considered buying a watch, but ended up with a cell phone instead. I learned to answer that phone by crisply singing out my name.

I wasn't a three-piece-suit broker, but baby, I'd come a long way. My Bay Street lite persona was a creature of stiff Toronto perfection.

I stubbornly held on to bits of my past -- I never tucked my shirt in. But it was an eccentricity.

The latest media reports show that Montreal is experiencing its biggest growth spurt on 30 years. Statistics Canada’s March numbers say Montreal proper has grown by 2.1 percent -- or 36,877 people. And those numbers were collected during the 2001 census, before this new boom that has pushed Montreal's economy back to where it should be, into a vivacious city of business and pleasure.

Statisticians and demographers are quoted as saying they've no idea why this is happening. The numbers had been steadily dropping since 1996.

The answer is easy, really. We children of the light all went to Toronto to find the holy grail. Now we're homesick. We’re crowding the streets of our old haunts, and people are trying to touch us. Hug us, clap us on the back.

Quebec's premier is facing a crisis. Forget those thousands of immigrants from other parts of the world who must be taught French language skills. To heck with helping Haitians and Portuguese figure out social services and how to get to the doctor.

There is an entire generation of Montrealers coming back home. And we need training. We need hugging. We need enforced snogging classes. And we need it now.