Il est temps de rentrer a la maison

It always happens this way. When I come to a new city, I'm homesick for the first day or so (I get homesick when I'm 30 minutes from home) and then I get my bearings. When I finally feel completely at home, it's time to leave.

It's our last night in Montreal. I'm ready to return home, but I'll miss it here. I'll miss hearing French spoken everywhere. I'll miss seeing cathedrals on every corner, and smelling crepes cooking, and drinking Tim Hortons coffee every morning (we bought a can to take home, but it's not the same as buying it in a paper cup). I'll miss chatting in French with store clerks and hotel employees until they say something that I don't understand, and see my blank look of incomprehension and then switch effortlessly to English. And then they say "thank you," while I say "merci beaucoup." And they say "have a good day!" And I say "Au revoir, bonne journee!"

One more, from the overlook at Chalet du Mont Royal

Au revoir, Montreal. Bonne journee, and many more.