![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jamesqA few years ago, some ex-friends of mine travelled to Montreal and took a picture of a Louis Cyr monument. I thought that was pretty cool, and when it came time to plan this trip, I vowed to myself that I'd carve out some time and go see it. While researching it's location, I found out that there were quite a few things named for old Louis, and since he was associated with a particular part of Montreal, they were all clustered together.
First a bit of background: Louis Cyr was the strongest man to have ever lived, and he's my most famous relative. Maybe. My family's tree has sufficiently shitty documentation that I can't prove conclusively that I'm actually related to the man. Between shitty record keeping of the late 19th/early 20th century, and being from a poor family with a small amount of fuckery, who really knows. I have relatives that have done genealogy research, maybe they know more than I do.
Legend has it that he was a great^n uncle, which I've since learned makes sense - Louis Cyr only had one child, and being a girl, she took her husband's surname when she married, so none of her children were named Cyr. If I'm related at all, I'm a descendant of one of Louis' brothers.
Most of what I learned about Louis Cyr was from the Wikipedia entry on him. However, they made a biopic of him in Quebec back in 2013, and I watched in on my train ride from Quebec City to Montreal. By an odd coincidence, I found a copy of the film in a Quebec City used book store, making my earlier liberation of the film legitimate after the fact. Good film, BTW.
Anyway, after my meat and murals tour of St. Urbain, I took the metro to as close to Parc des Hommes-Forts (Strongmen's Square) and walked the rest of the way.
I have no idea what the plaque says, though I imagine it's basic biographical details.
As I mentioned, there were other things quasi-nearby named for Louis. I walked about a kilometre to find a perfectly ordinary neighbourhood playground/park named for Louis. The sort of park that services the clearly still working-class neighbourhood it's in. It's the sort of neighbourhood that isn't the most desirable, but people still take pride in their homes and keep them up. It's beginning to gentrify too, as I suspect most neighbourhoods in Montreal-proper are, but not as far along that path as St Urbain is.
I'm not sure why they didn't combine the park and the square. Possibly they didn't want kids climbing the statue, which would be a powerful temptation.
About a block south, you can find Rue Louis Cyr, which is basically a paved back alley separating a parking lot from an industrial storage yard. It is across the street from some nice looking loft apartments though.
A few blocks away, I happened across this mural. The girl that Louis is reaching for is a late addition, in glued-on paper. Sadly, her face was peeling back. I tried to flatten out, and used some chewing gum to stick it back down, but I just couldn't manage it. Also, the earth and sun were unfortunately positioned.
It was getting late, and I wanted to have some dinner, and as luck would have it, there was a Louis Cyr restaurant nearby, so naturally I went there! I ended up having an improbably named appetizer (The Lobster French Toast, which was more like crab cakes than French Toast) and an ironically named dessert (Pudding Chomeur) that I'm going to try to recreate. I also had a cocktail called Cyr Mix-a-Lot, because at this point, I was just going to lean into it.
I'm not sure it was a restaurant that Louis would have liked. You kind of get the feeling he was a big eater of simple Quebecois comfort food, and this was a hipster cocktail bar. Still, Louis Cyr was a performer who travelled widely, so maybe he'd have loved it. I rather enjoyed it.
Now I wasn't exactly dressed for this restaurant, being in a sweaty tee and some shorts, and I'd been walking for hours at this point. Still, they seemed happy to serve a dumb anglo. As I was paying the bill, I related to my server that I was a tourist, but I had to come. Showing him my name on my debit card, he realized. And suddenly my perfectly polite (but distant) server became more friendly. He offered to give me a tour of their ice bar. I didn't even know they had an ice bar.
He led me (and a couple who, once the server decided to give me the tour, offered it to others) downstairs to a walk-in freezer. I briefly wondered if this was when my life turned into an Eli Roth film, but went inside anyway. There was a small ice bar, with seating for about four people, and a variety of vodkas. Apparently it was open whenever the restaurant was open, but only manned when people actually requested it. If I was a vodka guy, I might have had a shot of something expensive, just to say I did it. Instead, I took some pictures.
That said, if I get the chance, I'd love to take some friends here to toast the old strongman.
I made it out without torture or frostbite. I left the restaurant, and it only being about three Km back to my suite, and a warm pleasant night, I walked back and went to bed.
First a bit of background: Louis Cyr was the strongest man to have ever lived, and he's my most famous relative. Maybe. My family's tree has sufficiently shitty documentation that I can't prove conclusively that I'm actually related to the man. Between shitty record keeping of the late 19th/early 20th century, and being from a poor family with a small amount of fuckery, who really knows. I have relatives that have done genealogy research, maybe they know more than I do.
Legend has it that he was a great^n uncle, which I've since learned makes sense - Louis Cyr only had one child, and being a girl, she took her husband's surname when she married, so none of her children were named Cyr. If I'm related at all, I'm a descendant of one of Louis' brothers.
Most of what I learned about Louis Cyr was from the Wikipedia entry on him. However, they made a biopic of him in Quebec back in 2013, and I watched in on my train ride from Quebec City to Montreal. By an odd coincidence, I found a copy of the film in a Quebec City used book store, making my earlier liberation of the film legitimate after the fact. Good film, BTW.
Anyway, after my meat and murals tour of St. Urbain, I took the metro to as close to Parc des Hommes-Forts (Strongmen's Square) and walked the rest of the way.
I have no idea what the plaque says, though I imagine it's basic biographical details.
As I mentioned, there were other things quasi-nearby named for Louis. I walked about a kilometre to find a perfectly ordinary neighbourhood playground/park named for Louis. The sort of park that services the clearly still working-class neighbourhood it's in. It's the sort of neighbourhood that isn't the most desirable, but people still take pride in their homes and keep them up. It's beginning to gentrify too, as I suspect most neighbourhoods in Montreal-proper are, but not as far along that path as St Urbain is.
I'm not sure why they didn't combine the park and the square. Possibly they didn't want kids climbing the statue, which would be a powerful temptation.
About a block south, you can find Rue Louis Cyr, which is basically a paved back alley separating a parking lot from an industrial storage yard. It is across the street from some nice looking loft apartments though.
A few blocks away, I happened across this mural. The girl that Louis is reaching for is a late addition, in glued-on paper. Sadly, her face was peeling back. I tried to flatten out, and used some chewing gum to stick it back down, but I just couldn't manage it. Also, the earth and sun were unfortunately positioned.
It was getting late, and I wanted to have some dinner, and as luck would have it, there was a Louis Cyr restaurant nearby, so naturally I went there! I ended up having an improbably named appetizer (The Lobster French Toast, which was more like crab cakes than French Toast) and an ironically named dessert (Pudding Chomeur) that I'm going to try to recreate. I also had a cocktail called Cyr Mix-a-Lot, because at this point, I was just going to lean into it.
I'm not sure it was a restaurant that Louis would have liked. You kind of get the feeling he was a big eater of simple Quebecois comfort food, and this was a hipster cocktail bar. Still, Louis Cyr was a performer who travelled widely, so maybe he'd have loved it. I rather enjoyed it.
Now I wasn't exactly dressed for this restaurant, being in a sweaty tee and some shorts, and I'd been walking for hours at this point. Still, they seemed happy to serve a dumb anglo. As I was paying the bill, I related to my server that I was a tourist, but I had to come. Showing him my name on my debit card, he realized. And suddenly my perfectly polite (but distant) server became more friendly. He offered to give me a tour of their ice bar. I didn't even know they had an ice bar.
He led me (and a couple who, once the server decided to give me the tour, offered it to others) downstairs to a walk-in freezer. I briefly wondered if this was when my life turned into an Eli Roth film, but went inside anyway. There was a small ice bar, with seating for about four people, and a variety of vodkas. Apparently it was open whenever the restaurant was open, but only manned when people actually requested it. If I was a vodka guy, I might have had a shot of something expensive, just to say I did it. Instead, I took some pictures.
That said, if I get the chance, I'd love to take some friends here to toast the old strongman.
I made it out without torture or frostbite. I left the restaurant, and it only being about three Km back to my suite, and a warm pleasant night, I walked back and went to bed.
