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My original fall break destination was not to go to Canada, but my original plan was postponed. Spur of the moment, I booked an airbnb in Gay Village, Montreal, Canada. I had never gone to Canada before and I did very little research on the city prior to my arrival. I didn’t really know that French was the main language, but that smack of reality hit me hard after seeing street signs in French. When I had arrived in this beautiful city, I was in complete awe. The nightlife was astounding, the kindness resonating from the people was remarkable and... do NOT even get me started on the food! I had arrived at 11 PM on a Friday night the weekend prior to Thanksgiving. Immediately upon arrival, I had brought my luggage inside and made my way to the gay bars- my personal most intriguing attraction. They were exceptional. The vibes were very welcoming, drinks weren’t all that expensive, the took American currency and the mandatory coat check was rather shocking yet beyond convenient. I danced my little gay heart out to all of the gay anthems ranging from Madonna to Lady Gaga. I met and befriended one of the owner’s friends who showed me the ropes of the scene. I was impressed. The day proceeding this experience, I immediately woke up, hit the marijuana dispensary (The SQDC), and took myself to Mt. Royal to go on a hike. There I had a minor issue and had locked my keys in the car. This was when I really felt like I was indulging in the culture. I stood outside in the frigid cold for about 30 minutes until CAA arrived. I was- again- impressed. The man was nice, and extremely time efficient. Once my car was open I decided against the hike and drove to an easily accessible overlook to see the gorgeous city from a bird’s eye view. SHE looked CUTE. That night I decided to take the hetero-route and spoil myself to a night of poutine indulging and hockey watching. I spent most of the time at the bar and I don’t really know who even won the game. I can say though that the stadium was packed, loud and rowdy. Canada loves its hockey, man. I was, again, impressed. I called it early that night because the next day I had a date planned with myself at Bota Bota Spa. GIRL, let me tell you something. This was the highlight of my weekend. My massage was outstanding and beyond perfection. Then I entered the water circuit where my sinuses were scorched and cleaned by an herbal overload. From that station, I entered a 40-second cold bath on the main deck of this boat spa. I was literally shriveled and so cold, I might as well had just started flapping my arms like a penguin. I was in the arctic. From this amazingly torturous station, I migrated to the meditation lounge where I just let go of all thoughts. I could have probably burned myself alive like those monks did in China and not have even flinched an inch. I was beyond zen. After this station I moved to the medicated sauna. I forget what they exactly used, but even if I knew I would probably get sued for disclosing because that had to be some secret heaven paradise juice they were evaporating. I got 70% healthier from sitting in that sauna. Once I sweat out all toxins and negativities from my life I hit the hot tubs. I sat under a hot water fountain, outside in freezing cold weather, admired the view of The Notre Dame Cathedral and absolutely discovered bliss. I WAS, ONCE AGAIN, IMPRESSED. That night I spoiled myself to a nice din-din. I went to a place in which no person spoke English. The menu was in French, I literally was so uncultured and had no clue what to do. I chose a random item from the menu. I didn’t ask questions, I just rolled the dice. This was the best decision ever. I got some sort of fig peppercorn filet. I could have cried it was so scrumptious. I loved Montreal.