I knew from the start that this adventure would be a transformational experience for me and that the extended periods of social isolation would result in my taking a hard look at myself. If I am to continue my journey in earnest I must confess the truths I am faced with. It is now more clear than ever that I have been guilty of abandoning the pursuit of the things that bring me joy since my mother died. My current undertaking has provided me with opportunities to correct my life course.

For the past seven years Montréal has remained one of my favorite destinations both for cycling and road trips by car. Although I love the city for its diverse attractions and cosmopolitan effervescence, in great part, what keeps me coming back is the prospect of spending time with my Montréal native friend, Marie-Noëlle. Marie and I met when I did my first marathon cycling feat of 400 km in one day and although we have been “cycling friends” for some time now, until recently, we had never actually done any cycling together. My original plan was to make a brief visit to my favorite city in Québec and continue west but it turned out that Marie and her good friend Martine were planning a ride in my same direction a little later in the month. I was extended the generous offer to take a break in Montréal and join the two for the ride to Rivière Rouge along the 200 km bike path. I decided to stay on in anticipation of sharing the road for a spell.

Usually my visits to Montréal are highlighted by sightseeing, checking out the night life, going to a festival, or loafing around in coffee shops. On this particular occasion I barely left my host’s neighborhood of Rosemont–La Petite-Patrie. Getting this bicycle adventure off to a start involved so many moving parts and scheduling issues; for the first time I found myself able to relax and not worry about the next move. I spent my days walking the nearby boroughs, reading this and that, and looking forward to preparing and sharing a meal and glass of wine with Marie-Noëlle when she arrived home from work. My friend and I always seem to have the best conversations about travel, the oddities of language, cultural diversity, and the human side of geopolitical issues. Having the day-to-day domestic experience of conversing over a home cooked meal may not sound like much of a vacation to some but for me it represents the pillars of emotional stability and the repository of mental energy I use to fuel my life. After losing my mother I failed to actively seek the kind of domestic harmony that kept my life in balance and gave me an outlet to share the things I love on a daily basis. I shall ever be grateful to my dear friend Marie for giving me the chance to reconnect with a part of myself I’ve been missing for the last year.