Orange you glad I didn't say banana!

Knock-knock jokes aside (please), the Orange Julep really is one of the most, shall we say, interesting landmarks the city of Montreal has to offer. 

Shaped like, well, a giant orange, and visible as far as the eye can see, it is the purveyor of many an earthly delight, including the aptly named Orange Julep drink.

Fresh, frosty and refreshing, the "julep" tastes like a mix of milk, or ice cream, and orange juice. 

Its exact ingredients, though, are unknown.

my very fresh, very strong, friend

When an equally fresh, though decidedly less frosty, friend asked our waitress (who, unfortunately, was not on roller skates as used to be the case during the Orange Julep's heyday) what - exactly - the julep was made of, she replied "it's a secret."

And she wasn't kidding.

Built by Hermas Gibeau in 1932 to serve his trademark drink, the Orange Julep's tasty elixir is a faithfully-guarded family recipe.

Aside from mysterious juleps, the Orange Julep also serves delicious hot dogs, burgers, french fries and poutine. Since Mondays to Fridays are now carb-free (for me), weekends are best enjoyed with a hefty side of cheeseburger.  

three cheers for cheeseburgers!

Interesting side note: The beau has been staying with me for the past few months. When asked where he lives, he usually replies something like "five minutes from the Big Orange." This is interesting because the beau is a pilot, and the Big Orange once served as a landmark for a pilot whose radar system had failed. 

The reason for my recent visit to the Orange Julep, other than it being carbfest the weekend, was that it was on the way home from a nursery where I bought my first ever black flower, in honour of Kat Von D. 

i swear it's black

I guess orange really is the new black! 

Driving Miss Daisy

I did it! I finally did it! I got behind the wheel of my car, solo, and drove to the gym and back (working out in between, obviously). While this may seem like nothing to most, for me, who hasn't driven in five years and lived in a city where public transportation and even walking were preferable to driving, it was a major feat. 

Now, a fait accompli.

I had been holding on to being a pedestrian for a few reasons, staying safely inside my comfort zone being one of them, for quite a while (well, two months actually) but decided this morning that part of moving somewhere new, and different, is adapting to a new way of life, of doing things, of getting places.

And not being afraid.

When I moved to Japan when I was 22 years old, I was given a job, an apartment and a bike and told to get on my way - and I did. With little or no fear, I threw caution to the wind (literally) and did things like bike through a typhoon in the middle of the night and navigate my way through a maze-like subway system without knowing a word of the language.

Now, more than a few years later (!), I am slightly less flexible to change, slightly less willing to throw caution to the wind. I weigh, and worry, and in the end, don't think I make any better, or worse, decisions than I used to.

So today, instead of walking to the gym on the side of a busy road so-obviously-not- designed with pedestrians in mind I got behind the wheel of my car and just did it.

SIDE NOTE: I absolutely do not want to become one of those people who drives everywhere. I consider myself a bit of a greenie and don't like feeling like I have to give up my principles to assimilate. On the other hand, I want to be able to like, see people, and like, do things, and like... go places!

Another thing I did solo this week was make poutine. My major complaint with most poutines is the cheese-to-everything-else ratio: there is never enough cheese. 

Problem solved!