This is not a funny t-shirt your deadbeat dad buys you on vacation; it’s what every Montréaler is thinking deep down when they meet someone from out of town. It’s not because they hate you, it’s just that they’re living in the biggest party in Canada and they’re perpetually petrified someone’s going to come in and fuck it up.
Of course, that’s already happening; now that the threat of provincial separation has receded (for now), political stability has more or less returned, bringing back a lot of the Anglo business that left in the 50s, 70s, 80s, and 90s. With new ugly prefab condos spreading like AIDS in Africa, business is booming. More business means more people, more people means less housing, less housing means higher rents, and nobody can afford higher rents in Montréal because they’re a) too lazy to hold down a job or b) an artist (who’s lazy). But who can blame those dirty Montréal bohemians for being worried? Until last year, when some shit-sucking journalists started calling Montréal “the next Seattle,” this town was North America’s best-kept secret. For now, the rent is still low by North American standards and the food is cheap and amazing, which means that nobody needs to have a real job and everyone can concentrate on more important things like going out every night, getting drunk, seeing bands, and working on stupid things like their “art.” Now it seems that every shitty emo band in North America is moving to Montréal to be the next Arcade Fire, which is annoying for people who just want to be left alone in the best North American city ever.
We’re not sure what everyone’s so worried about. The chances of someone moving to Montréal might be pretty good, but the chances of them staying aren’t. That’s because for six months of the year Montréal is basically an uninhabitable icy hellhole that drops $50 million a year on snow removal alone. Also, because they’re part European, but also a minority, Montréalers complain the most and work the least. At one point in the 60s, the Quebecois felt so oppressed by Anglo fat cats, they called themselves the “white niggers of America,” so now they get dibs on a shitload of Canadian government grant money to “promote their culture.”
Why come here then? Two words: Sin City. In the 20s, prohibition-starved Americans flocked northward for unrestricted booze and pussy. Today, with lax laws on prostitution, drugs, and alcohol, things haven’t really changed. Plus add to that tons of green space, turn-of-the-century architecture, a killer music scene, and plenty of eye candy and there’s little reason not to visit. Things are also dirt cheap and, unlike New York City where you can blow $100 on your way to meet a friend for drinks, you can live like a king for a week on a couple of C-notes.
Getting around Montréal is easy. The city itself is tiny and anywhere is just a five-minute cab ride away. Being one of the safest major cities in North America has its perks, including walking around unfettered by the fear of anal gang rape. St. Laurent Blvd. divides the city between East (French) and West (English) and while over half the population speaks French, most places speak English. Actually, even if you did speak French, it probably won’t help you since Quebec French is based on jouale, a slurred slang-ridden throwback dialect from colonial days (more on that later).
The Vice Guide to Montréal is basically some crucial places to eat and drink if you’re here for only a few days and some other interesting stuff that you should do if you’re here longer. We passed on a lot of spots like St. Denis and Mont Royal Street, mostly because there was no space but also because they’re kind of gay. If you’re that curious, ask a local to show you around the island (did we mention it was an island?). Enjoy!
This special edition of Vice edited by Raf Katigbak.
