I’m still trying to sort out my impressions of Montreal. We were there for about 24 hours, so there isn’t much to go on — only some first impressions. I also had a cold (my first in more than a year!), and you shouldn’t let me into your city when I’m sick. Many factors are stripping away my objectivity here, but I’ll try to be fair and describe our short visit.

Once you cross over into Quebec, it’s all French. The signs are in French. If you speak only English, you’ll understand most of them. Some signs are confusing, though. Don’t forget that you’re in the land of meters — I mean, metres — so now you can use that weird km/h ring on your speedometer. The basic street signs are understandable, underscoring the importance of graphic design standards on highway signs.

I was surprised at the poor condition of the Rte. 133 between Henryville and St.-Jean-Sur-Richelieu. Between St.-Jean-Sur-Richelieu and Montreal, you drive along Autoroutes 35 and 10, nice interstate-style highways. But the trip on the smaller Rte. 133 is a bumpy mess.

Arriving in Montreal from the east, the city seems to begin immediately. It’s mostly farmland between Montreal and the U.S. border (with the exception of a few towns). Once you get to the Autoroute 30 interchange along Autoroute 10, neighborhoods and businesses of Montreal’s neighborhoods suddenly appear.

Getting into downtown Montreal is reasonably easy — but look out for lanes that merge without warning. You’ll know the lane ends when a big truck suddenly appears inches from your back door and blows a horn at you. Don’t count on highway lines.

Getting through downtown Montreal can be a monumental challenge. There are lines and signs, but them seem optional. My attempt at sanity and reason handicapped me in the fight through the Thursday lunch rush. I tried to follow rules and lines as I understand them. I should have been as haphazard and careless as the crush of cars around me. A fanfare of angry horns along boulevard René-Lévesque announced our arrival.

We arrived at our hotel, La Tour Centre Ville, which was very nice, and parked in a weird underground garage beneath the building. We set out on a walking tour of downtown. I was surprised at how clean the city seemed. It’s a touch bigger than Philadelphia, but it’s not as grimy. The architecture is nice. The skyline is wider than it is tall. Regulations restrict the height of buildings to the height of Mount Royal, which is a mountain and site of a downtown park.

Everyone is speaking French. You may pick up a sentence or two in English, but you’ll hear French almost everywhere. Most residents can speak both, and in one ice cream shop, everyone seemed to be speaking English.

I thought this bilingualism would be comfortable, but it wasn’t completely. The bilingual transactions felt awkward. The people were nice, but I felt uncomfortable asking in sloppy French if they spoke English. Clearly, they’re more comfortable speaking French, so I was asking them to be uncomfortable, and as a visitor, I didn’t like that.

We didn’t have a good meal there. Our lunch in Chinatown was not good. Our dinner at a nice French restaurant taught a valuable lesson about portion size. We went back to the hotel and had a real dinner of granola bars. The waiter also misunderstood our order, and we had a tense negotiation with the manageress about bill. The next morning’s breakfast in the bistro connected to the lobby of the hotel was bland.

We tried to take the Metro subway system. The signs all were in French. In this particular station, one had to buy tickets from a human being. It was late in the afternoon. There was a line. I had a sore throat. We didn’t feel like asking for a bilingual rush-hour lesson in how their subway system worked, so we headed back to the street. There is a large Underground City, which connects buildings and the subway with tunnels. I learned this later on Wikipedia, because there is no English indication that it exists. It’s called RÉSO, which is a homophone for the French word réseau, which means “network.” Again, it pays to know French in Montreal.

I’m sure there is plenty to do in Montreal, but it wasn’t evident. We saw a big science museum. I know there are other museums, but I didn’t see any obvious signs around downtown directing people to points of interest.

We thought about going to Quebec City on our second day, but knowing that city was almost completely Francophone, we decided to head back for lovely Vermont. We did stop at the Wal-Mart in Saint-Jean-Sur-Richelieu, trying to get rid of the last part of our Canadian money. How strange to hear a Wal-Mart greeter say, “Bonjour!” The signage was French, and you couldn’t rely on the layout to find what you needed; the store’s design was unusual. The express lane was odd. Everyone lines up. An LED sign shows which lane is open, and the next person in line moves to that lane.

Montreal is a big, clean, energetic city with all kinds of people. I’d like to go back, but only if I’m armed with enough French to get by without feeling like a heel. If you’re going, you’ll feel more comfortable if you know some French.

On the other hand, Vermont, as always, was wonderful.