A City and its Balconies
Back in 2002, I was hired to write the cover story for Maisonneuve’s breakout third issue. It was my first real writing assignment and a big part of the reason why I ended up on the career path down which I’m now stumbling. Looking back, I cringe at the cloying introduction, but aside from that, I think it’s a pretty decent treatment of one of the defining aspects of Montreal and the first thing that struck me when I moved there: balconies.
My first two apartments were balcony-less; for two years, I was haunted by the feeling of missing out on some essential part of the Montreal experience. Finally, after finding an apartment on Park Avenue that was properly-balconied (one in the front, one in the back), I began to immerse myself in summer’s balcony life. Sitting in the afternoon sun, I chatted with my next-door neighbour, who was on her balcony whenever she wasn’t working at a café down the street. I watched the old Greek man next door tend the tomatoes he grew on the roof of the shed in his backyard. I spied on people cycling or strolling down the back lane.
Walking through any Montreal neighbourhood is an experience defined by the balconies you pass by. Near the corner of Park and Fairmount, an old man spends most of the summer sitting on his first-floor balcony listening to Greek radio at full volume. In north-end Villeray, tenants along busy St. Denis advertise their nationalism with plastic Quebec flags affixed to their balcony’s railings. The darkness of warm summer nights is always softened by the murmur of conversation and clinking of beer bottles coming from the balconies above.
