The Many Charms of Montreal

A marked walking trail meanders for two miles through the streets of downtown Montreal, moving seamlessly from the river to the mountains that define the topography of this island city. But I didn’t discover the Promenade Fleuve-Montagne until the last day of my recent four-day visit. By then, I had already forged my own path, nibbling and window-shopping my way all over town.

I did indeed begin my first day ambling alongside the St. Lawrence River, basking in the late afternoon June sun. The blue-and-white striped tents of Cirque du Soleil headquarters paired nicely with Canada’s tallest Ferris wheel. Another duo grabbed my attention, landmark vestiges of Expo 67.

First, the stacked boxes of architect Moshe Safdie’s residential complex Habitat 67 a-tumble and a-jumble at the edge of a peninsula. Beyond them, Buckminster Fuller’s Biosphère, now a museum devoted to the environment, on nearby Île Sainte-Hélène.

For a bird’s-eye view of the whole scene, I took an elevator to the lucky 13th floor of the recently opened Port of Montreal Tower. Stepping out into the cantilevered cage for a 360-degree view (yes, that means there’s a glass bottom), I spied the winding cobblestoned streets of Old Montreal calling me to my next stop.

And so I zipped past the plethora of souvenir shops selling T-shirts and keychains, keeping a lookout for gold among the dross. I found it when I spotted the overflowing window boxes and mint-green painted trim of Le Petit Dep, a particularly lovely version of a dépanneur, the word Montrealers use for “convenience store.” Inside, I stopped for espresso and a pastry before walking around the corner to Notre Dame Basilica, resplendent in Gothic Revival stained glass and towers.

Completed in the late 19th-century and inspired by its famous Paris namesake, it’s certainly impressive, but I was here to check out a thoroughly modern addition: AURA. An immersive video, sound and light experience, it’s precisely the kind of thing I usually hate. But I had heard good things, and sure enough, it delivered, thrillingly—and convincingly—recreating the sensations of crashing ice, swirling leaves and thunderstorms before segueing into soaring male choral voices that seemed to emit from the spotlit stone statues posed in the apse’s nooks.

This new way of seeing an old standard ended my first day of reacquainting myself with Canada’s second largest city. To stay on theme, I walked a few minutes to meet a friend at the just-opened Oncle Lee Kăo, a sister offering to Chef Anderson Lee’s Michelin-recommended Oncle Lee. Here, instead of contemporary takes on classic Chinese cuisine, the emphasis is on lighter bites and less formal entrees inspired by street food—perfect for sharing—and for calling it an early night.

Rediscovering an old favorite

The rest of my time, I decided, would be spent similarly by visiting places in Montreal that I hadn’t been to before. The next day, I started with the McCord Stewart Museum, a short walk from my downtown hotel. Exploring the social history of Montreal through permanent collections of Indigenous artifacts, decorative arts and photography, it also presents temporary exhibitions such as the current On the Menu—Montreal: A Restaurant Story (through October 18), which considers how the changing food scene of this bilingual, multicultural city reflects its evolution through the decades.

After leaving, I headed to a nearby  food hall to sample from current players on that scene, pizza from Moleskine and treats from Tunnel Espresso, which bills itself as “extremely montréalais.” Feeling somewhat Montreal-ish myself, I thrust headlong into the swarming downtown streets.

At Saint-Laurent Boulevard, I stumbled onto what proved to be the start of MURAL, a music- and food-filled festival that for 10 days every June turns the blank walls of neighborhood streets into canvases for the world’s best-known street artists. By the end of the event, a dozen or so finished projects are unveiled. The fun is watching as artists go about their work and gradually bring each piece to life.

Later that afternoon, a brisk 40-minute walk southwest from my hotel brought me to the Atwater Market, marked by its distinctive clock tower. Drawn inexorably by the rows and rows of plant stalls outside the market—bursting with potted geraniums and begonias and petunias—I entered the Art Deco building. Gliding past vendors offering cheese, pastries, jams, produce, fish and meat, I exited through the other side and found myself at the quay of the Lachine Canal.

Just when it seemed things couldn’t get any more picturesque (or French), I noticed a tiny moored boat bobbing gently in the water and bedecked with its own array of potted flowers—plus some very happy cocktail-imbibers. They weren’t the idle rich but customers of the Canal Lounge, a boîte that goes nowhere but keeps its guests floating (thanks to its huge Aperol spritzes) all summer long.

After disembarking, I headed back a few blocks to Notre-Dame Street West, the main drag of the Saint-Henri neighborhood, where a new and very pretty Italian eatery had earlier caught my attention. A product of a food photographer who decided to open his own place late in 2024, La Spada’s navy banquettes and white tablecloths play nicely with its funky subway tile and street art. And, as I discovered, the aesthetic serves as an apt preview of a menu including robust-but-elegant Italian reds and simple-but-demanding classics like cacio e pepe.

Surprises everywhere

For my last full day, I’d signed up for a walking tour of two joined-at-the-hipster neighborhoods: Plateau-Mont-Royal and Mile End. I met my guide, Daniel Bromberg, in Square Saint-Louis, a tranquil park with a fanciful two-tiered Victorian fountain and a squat structure that now operates as a café. As we started walking, I learned that the 30-something Bromberg is not only a Montreal enthusiast extraordinaire but also a cofounder of The Main, an online magazine that uncovers the city’s under-the-radar stories and also presents guides to its cafés and boutiques.

On the two-hour tour, we passed familiar sites and eateries—the remarkable exterior iron staircases that adorn the area’s residences; the remarkable wood-fired bagels that St-Viateur produces by the dozens. But Bromberg made sure I encountered something new to me at every turn. That you can find fries sans melted cheese here if you prefer—and why not when they’re piping hot and presented through the take-out window of the graffiti-covered Patati Patata? And that a whole network of formerly neglected alleys has benefited from a citywide program that offers grants to encourage neighbors to activate the spaces with native gardens, furniture for common dining and relaxation, and impromptu concerts.

I could’ve kept walking, but I had places to be and more food on the roster. The next morning before leaving for the airport, though, I finally hoofed it to Mount Royal— at just 764-feet tall, it’s a large hilly park, really—to survey the river to the mountain and everywhere in between. I had covered a lot of that ground but, as I discovered, there’s much more to Montreal that you can’t see at first glance. For that, you have to dip into a small museum or scamper up a canal boat or duck down an alley or two.