Le Petit Hotêl on rue Laval

The B&B on rue Laval was comfortable, convenient and cheap. The interior was decorated with tasteful art and shabby-chic antiques, and painted a pale blue-green that gave the place a cool feeling, despite the heat and ineffective air conditioning. I chose a room on the sunny, street-side, with a sink in the room and separate shower and toilet rooms down the hall. After a little experimenting I found it was best to leave the window open, shades down and ceiling fan on high; then I could sleep well enough on top of the blankets, wearing a t-shirt and shorts.

One night I was awakened around eleven by a spectacular thunderstorm, which cooled the city down overnight. I got up and sat by the open window in the parlor to watch the rain, and enjoy the moody, romantic, film noirish look of the street.

But I don't want to mention the name of the place because my week there came to a disappointing end. One afternoon I came in tired from walking in the heat, and decided to read and nap a bit, then go out for an early dinner. A couple of hours later I woke up to find my left arm, shoulder and ribs were covered with itchy red welts about a half-inch around. There were even a couple of spots on my face. Bedbugs.

An artsy alley near rue Laval

Disgusted, repulsed, angry and itching, I washed down my skin with cold water from the sink, then rubbed lotion on the blotches.

By this time I only had one full night and day, then a short night before I had to get up early to get to the airport. I'd been so contented with the place for almost a week. I decided to say nothing, just tough it out for thirty hours. I pulled the blankets and pillows off the bed, rolled them up, and stuffed them in the closet, and made sure all my clothes and shoes were hanging up, or inside my bags on the table, off the carpet. Then I went out to walk a bit and find dinner.

l'Eglise d'Enfant Jesus

I walked up and down and back up again on rue St-Denis, then down and up blvd. St-Laurent, two busy, upscale streets of boutiques, restaurants and night spots, enjoying the colorful and quirky street scenes, stopping to rest by the cool, shaded fountain in front of l'Eglise d'Enfant Jesus.

After dinner (taco salad at a Mexican place, I think) I wandered in to Renaud & Bray's bookstore. They have a couple of stores in Montreal, which I believe are going through some sort of reorganization. Anyway, they had lots of discounted books, souvenirs and kitsch.

There I found "Soudain dans la forêt profonde" by Israeli author Amos Oz. It was translated from Hebrew to French (obviously) but was described as "a parable for children and adults" so I thought with a dictionary at hand it might be about my reading level, and a good distraction from my itchy spots.

Can't imagine how the graffitists got up there