My stay in Montréal continues. I was still at the auberge at this point in the trip.
Montréal is the city where Groucho losdt his virginity. Montréal is also the city where Don Hosek was asked for instructions on the subway. I don’t know, maybe I look helpful.
Last night I met three French-speaking girls at the Auberge. It was interesting that our conversation centered on Language. One girl was French, the other two Canadienne; they seemed amazed that I could not detect the difference in accents.
One of the girls claimed that I was a “lonely intellectual” on the basis that I worked on computers. She was right.
The thing I remember most of the young women I met was them attempting to teach me a bit of French, telling me to pronounce nine (neuf) like egg (œuf). I mention this by way of prolog as they appear in this journal entry. Strange what sticks in the memory.
I’ve always been someone asked for directions, both before I wrote this and a lot since. The most memorable being while in Den Haag, a truck pulled up onto the sidewalk in front of me and the driver jumped out and said something to me in Dutch. I told him I didn’t speak Dutch (in English) and he switched to English and asked me if I knew where Princessjulianaplatz was.
As it turned out, I did. It was across the street and I pointed him to it.
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