Hey, Mom! Montreal ... s’il vous plait

IMAGINE my surprise when my teenage son revealed he would like to travel to a place where he could speak French. Pardonnez-moi, but up until that moment, French was something that had been stuffed into his brain at school -- since, I think, third grade. It was not the stuff of recreation, never mind vacation.

Sam: She’s right, actually. Up until then, I had resented the force-fed schooling I was getting. “School stinks” summed up my thought process. But at this point in my life, I no longer feel the need to bash intellectualism. Montreal, though not quite as exotic as France -- and a frequent destination for my hockey-playing friends -- definitely offered some of the intrigue of the European world.

So as mothers often do, I took a breath, trying not to sound amazed, and said, “Well, certainly.” This was spring break we were talking about, the April vacation that signals that another wretched school year will soon be over.

We also were looking at ye olde checkbook. Paris was out of the question because we had mortgaged the family farm for a trip to London a short time earlier. We also had time constraints that made a full week’s getaway unlikely.

When Sam suggested Montreal, we both knew right away that this was the perfect destination. It was an easy getaway from our home near Boston. It had superb museums, a world-class university to explore and a huge underground shopping complex. It had bistros and brasseries. And most of all, it had many people speaking French.

We consulted the Internet but found no great airfare bargains.

From the back of my brain, a little voice whispered: Why not take the train?

A call to Amtrak told us we could pick up the Montreal line in Albany, N.Y., about three hours from our home. Then the voice mentioned the AAA-discounted price -- $80, round trip, for each of us. That cinched the deal.

Sam: Just two weeks before our little adventure, I celebrated my 16th birthday and naturally got my driver’s permit that very day. So the drive to Albany was an enticing opportunity to explore the not-so-treacherous Massachusetts Turnpike. Also, as I enjoy visiting new cities, Albany would be another check on my list.

But let me tell you about Albany: After rounding a bend on what becomes the New York State Thruway, the visitor to Albany has essentially seen it all. The crowning moment of our short-lived visit was taking in a giant monument (or sculpture, we’re not sure which) that sits in the middle of the city. It is shaped like a spaceship and appears to have been the site where aliens landed. In fact, we discovered, it is a performing arts center known formally as “The Egg.” We crossed the Hudson River to the Amtrak station in Rensselaer and began our trip.

Right off, Sam and I noticed that the train was amazingly comfortable. The seats were broad and deeply cushioned. The wide windows invited passengers to press their noses against the glass. I had brought along books, magazines and a laptop, assuming I would fill endless hours with productive activities. Instead, I gazed dreamily.

Soon we were hugging the edge of Lake Champlain. The windows did not open, but if they had, we could have touched the water, perhaps tempting the legendary lake monster known as Champ. The track twisted and turned, affording a spectacular view of Vermont’s Green Mountains.

Our friend the Internet also had secured us a Montreal hotel room. Since I was traveling with a teenager, I had nixed quaint inns with paper-thin walls. Better to go for full-service hotels with gyms, concierges and functioning TVs. We ended up at the Hotel Omni Mont-Royal, with a huge room opposite the in-town mountain (Mont Royal, get it?) for which the city was named. Arriving at dinner time, we dropped our luggage in the room and inquired, “Ou est une bonne brasserie?”

Using his skillful French, Sam procured 12-ride passes on the subway, for about $11. Off we went to the neighborhood known as St.-Denis, home of fine restaurants and kicky boutiques. Our concierge’s choice, Bieres & Compagnie, featured a lengthy list of brews along with more variations of mussels than I had ever seen. As promised, the place was packed with locals -- none speaking English.

Montreal, with a population of almost 2 million, is Canada’s second-largest city. It is truly bilingual, so non-French speakers can get along splendidly. Residents seemed genuinely friendly, happy that we were taking time to come see their city. Sam found that speaking French in Montreal was everything it was cracked up to be. All the amenities of a modern American city are fused with old and elegant French culture.

Sam and I believe in seeing a city from the sidewalk up. After studying the Montreal guidebooks, we knew what we wanted to see and also what we wanted to eat: crepes. We began our first full day in Montreal at Chez Cora, where the line snaked around a corner, but it was worth the wait.

Then we walked ... and walked ... and walked some more. For those who like to preserve shoe leather, Montreal has excellent public transportation, with buses and subways that seem to go everywhere. But Sam and I like the freedom of wandering wherever we please.

We explored the vibrant shopping area around Rue Ste.-Catherine, home of elegant department stores, chic boutiques and too many chain stores to mention. Ste.-Catherine also is an entry point to Montreal’s vast Underground City. With more than 135 shops, this complex is one of several subterranean shopping arcades that presumably provide respite during the city’s hard winters. In late spring, the artificial light made it feel almost claustrophobic. Sam and I were happier above ground.

From Ste.-Catherine, we marched to Vieux-Montreal. The oldest part of the city is also the most European. Cobblestone streets lead to the Basilique Notre-Dame, nearly as majestic as its Parisian namesake.

We cut back to walk up Boulevard St.-Laurent to the Quartier Chinois (Chinatown). Northward onto Rue St.-Dominique, we entered the Middle Eastern sector, with signs in French and characters we did not recognize. Traipsing north again, we came to the Place des Arts and the Musee d’Art Contemporain. We found a small street market where we could buy amazing maple products for family back home -- miniature ice cream cones, for example, filled with maple cream.

Then we took the Rue St.-Alexandre to find McGill University, a great Gothic campus that somehow manages to blend Oxford and the Sorbonne.

For dinner, our concierge sent us to Weinstein & Gavino’s Pasta Bar Factory, a popular haunt for McGill students. We could have gone swimming in the pasta bowls they served. Because we had walked about seven miles, we had no trouble justifying some glace. (Ice cream sounds much more indulgent in French.)

Now it was Sunday, our second and final full day. For crepes, we sought out Eggspectation on Rue Ste.-Catherine. Then, once again, we walked. After another long perambulation through the central shopping area, we headed to the Biodome. This zoological facility let us stare eye to eye with parrots, penguins and the kind of reptiles I would rather not meet so intimately.

That evening, Sam and I turned on the TV to find the Giants playing the Dodgers -- in French. Sam is a born-and-bred Red Sox fan, but I was raised to worship at the temple of the Giants, later converting to the Dodgers when I moved to Los Angeles. Few things are more amusing to a baseball fan than hearing “trois strikes.”

At the Gare-Centrale on Monday morning, Sam and I stocked up on food for the nine-hour trip home. Amtrak may advertise a fabulous cafe car, but trust us when we tell you to bring your own provisions.

There we were, crossing the border into the U.S. when the agricultural inspector boarded. Were we carrying any meat, fish, fruits, vegetables and so forth? he demanded. In our best Quebecois fashion, we shook our heads. “What’s that?” he growled in the direction of Sam’s carry-out meal.

Crepes, my son replied with a perfect French “r.”

Ah, bon.

*

Begin text of infobox

French-Canadian charms

GETTING THERE:

From LAX, Air Canada, United, Northwest, Continental, Delta, American and US Airways offer connecting service (change of planes). Restricted round-trip fares begin at $514.

WHERE TO STAY:

Hotel Omni Mont-Royal, 1050 Rue Sherbrooke W. ; (514) 284-1110, www.omnihotels.com. Old-fashioned French-style street lamps keep the exterior of this modern high-rise from looking like any other big-city chain hotel. The Omni functions smoothly, with a restaurant, gym, swimming pool and spa on site. Double rooms from $168.

Fairmont Queen Elizabeth Hotel, 900 Blvd. Rene-Levesque W.; (514) 861-3511, www.fairmont.com/queenelizabeth. A grande dame that is only a short walk from the central train station. This lovely old hotel radiates a sense of grace and includes all the modern conveniences you could want. Doubles from $204.

Chateau Versailles, 1659 Rue Sherbrooke W.; (888) 933-8111, www.versailleshotels.com. The boutique-style hotel occupies four of the city’s fine old town houses -- elegant structures that once were home to Montreal’s elite. Now the Chateau is a favorite destination for writers and artists. Doubles from $179.

WHERE TO EAT:

Bieres & Compagnie, 4350 Rue St.-Denis; (514) 844-0394. Fabulous brasserie food in a typical Quebecois setting. Entrees from about $8.

Chez Cora, 1425 Rue Stanley; (514) 286-6171. Homemade breakfasts that leave no room for lunch. Meals from $5.

Weinstein & Gavino’s Pasta Bar Factory, 1434 Crescent St.; (514) 288-2231. Fresh pastas served in Italian army proportions. Entrees from $20.

TO LEARN MORE:

Greater Montreal Convention and Tourism Bureau, (514) 844-5400, www.tourisme-montreal.org.

-- Elizabeth Mehren