“The line is too long; do you want to try another place?” A woman tells the man next to her; perhaps her husband or spouse. “But I’m really in the mood for pies; let’s just wait a bit longer.” He replies as she sighs in agreement. The line is indeed long, for warm weekends are becoming numbered as we approach the harsh winters of Montreal, and everyone is taking advantage of that. The sun shines over the humble streets of St-Henri neighborhood. Voices overlap, and everyone attempts to wiggle themselves around the mass of people waiting in line for one of the most loved cafes in St-Henri: Rustique café.

The neighborhood is packed with people enjoying the weekend before they return back to their routines. The conversations that exist amongst the people waiting in line are too vague and empty. Simple phrases of “how’s work?” and “oh my God, where did you buy this shirt?” with the occasional discussion on the weather.  At each corner of every street sits a homeless man; not begging for money, just observing the crowd. In rare occasions, a lady or a gentleman bathed in expensive jewelry will sit next to the homeless man as they wait for a friend or finish a call. And that image describes the neighborhood perfectly. St-Henri can be divided into two sections: the middle or upper class and the lower class. “Although I spend most of my time at Downtown, I feel as if this place is fancier” my friend says.  People are dressed in expensive clothing and accessorized in either gold or diamond. Some are humbler, but others flaunt their wealth.

We finally enter Rustique café, and the girl behind the counter greets us with a warm smile. The café is small enough that it feels as if we are sharing a conversation with the people next to us. However, it makes the place more welcoming. Different faces and different languages inhabit the café as more people enter. Whenever I go out to places like this one, I can’t help but smile at the simplicity that exists in these few moments. The conversations are light enough for you to join in and make a joke that results in a group of laughter. Some begin to introduce themselves to the others and some decide that a smile is enough interaction. Nevertheless, the moment I shared with my friend in Rustique café summarized Montreal for me. As someone who grew up amid the chaos of war, serene moments like this seem too far away to grasp. Montreal beats with kindness and authenticity, and St-Henri takes us back to a simpler time.

As the sun begins to set, the mass of people begins to decrease. Rustique café, along with the other cafes and restaurants, empties out all the customers as it prepares for closing. Part of the crowd has now moved over to Courcelle Bar to enjoy the rest of their night. My friend and I decide to walk a bit around the neighborhood, sober though.

The further we walk away from the streets lined with cafes and restaurants, the darker the buildings get. Graffiti covers the walls; some are incredible works of art, and some are angry messages with unknown purpose. The overlapping voices disappear and utter silence hovers over the residential duplexes. This part of St-Henri does not belong to the part we spent the afternoon in. Convinced that we have reached another neighborhood, I ask my friend if we have lost our way, but she assures me that this is the part of St-Henri that fosters the lower-class residents.

The streets are completely empty except for a couple drunk men stumbling around either cussing or kicking random mailboxes. The buildings have a soul of their own. They follow you around the neighborhood, or perhaps they guide you. The architecture is different, a bit bland, and it reflects the lives inhabiting each apartment. Some children are still running around the streets, chasing each other as they slip on mud puddles. I had never seen this image of kids in the streets since arriving to Montreal. This image is too familiar to me on the streets of my own city, but here it appears again in a place far away from my city.

This part of the neighborhood is dead, but somehow more alive than the other part. While the wealthier street is crowded with people, this street is crowded with stories. From the struggling families bringing their kids back from school, to the young singles returning from their day shifts, and the single parents juggling three kids on two arms. Each building has a mind of its own, and each apartment tells a story.

St-Henri neighborhood is rich in history. Named after the tall St-Henri church, it was originally dominated by French-English Canadians, Irish immigrants, and black workers. The demographic of the neighborhood has changed dramatically as more business owners and educated people move here and more businesses seek profit from the beautiful location of St-Henri. Located in southwest Montreal, the neighborhood is bounded by both Atwater market and the Canal which makes it a beautiful touristic place. However, gentrification is on everyone’s tongue. For a residential neighborhood to be dominated by private businesses, it feels excessive; almost invasive. This also explains the construction on every street in order to conform this neighborhood into a higher-class neighborhood without knowing the significance of its past. However, St-Henri has held onto its past roots even after these changes. From the old-style diners such as Green Stop to the old-fashioned architecture, St-Henri refuses to age.

Part of me does not want to leave the streets of St-Henri as they remind me of the streets of my own neighborhood back in Syria. Packed with restaurants, my neighborhood did not sleep. It remained awake, crammed with people shopping or enjoying a quick meal. Similar to the church, my neighborhood is also known for its beautiful Mosque. The chapped walls and roughed up streets of St-Henri take me back to my childhood. And I almost see myself running around; playing with the neighborhood kids while my mother yells at me to not get my clothes all dirty.

Visiting St-Henri is similar to visiting the humble neighborhoods of Damascus. It amazes me how similar the neighborhoods could be even miles away from each other. St-Henri’s soul and energy feel familiar that I almost mistake these streets for my own home. And as we reach the end of the neighborhood, I see my home, in Damascus. I see it clear enough for me to touch its chapped walls and smile at the absurd writings. And as vague as it sounds, I feel happy in this exact moment, for I have found home in a strange city.

“Explore St-Henri”, les cartier du canal, lesquartiersducanal.com/en/borough/saint-henri/

“St-Henri, A Montreal Tour Guide”, BRB Travel Blog, www.brbtravelblog.com/blog/saint-henri-montreal

Montpetit, Jonathan. « How Montreal’s Saint-Henri neighbourhood has become a battleground in Canada’s gentrification debate,” CBC, May 31, 2016, http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/montreal/gentrification-st-henri-montreal-toronto-vancouver-1.3607655

St-Henri, Montreal. Wikipedia. Wikipedia.org, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint-Henri,_Montreal