Now that I’m back to a place where no one cares who Ed Bradley was or remembers Jack Palance doing one-armed push-ups, I’m missing it all.
Despite increasing kicks, catching a cold, rainy weather, jet lag followed by insomnia followed by random bouts of narcolepsy, I discovered that Montreal lived up to the great expectations I had built up in my mind.
Forgetting Montreal for a second, just to be back in North America for the election results was enough excitement for me. Tim Russert doing analyses on a dry erase board. I stayed up to watch Charlie Rose. We got back to the hotel just in time to see Rummy go bye-bye live without someone translating over the original voices.
So, Montreal… I’m convinced. We went to the opera, a film festival, the Beaux Arts and Contemporary Art museums. Ate everything imaginable, except poutine. Dim sum in Chinatown! Drove out to potential future neighborhoods, sat in on a lecture by a possible future professor, talked to a Dean that made the "pregnant yet planning to go back to school" option a bit less anxious filled.
I’d found out that I was pregnant and accepted to the program just days a part. I hastily applied for a deferral and pretty much deferred all thoughts about anything relating to school or moving until last month. I took a good friend’s advice planning an even hastier visit to Montreal, which was probably the best thing we could have done at the time. I’m still not sure just how exactly all three of us are going to make it out of Berlin, if not next year, in two. But now at least we have a concrete place in mind. I’m not sure what’s more exciting: the prospect of Montreal or getting out of Berlin. Both are making me quite happy.
(photo: mikael persson)