Sunday in Mont Royal Park

An American-style brunch at a local restaurant down the street leaves me yearning for nothing but a nap.  But it is Sunday and Mont Royal Park beckons.

I stumbled on the Tam-Tam Jam on the Internet.  Then heard about it twice more from guides on the Double Decker Grayline bus tour we took earlier this week.  I have to see for myself an event that draws thousands of people each Sunday from noon to sundown.

Tam-Tam Jam

Emerging from the metro at Mont Royal station we head toward the mountain. The deep primitive music of throbbing drums draws us forward. The primal beat stirs both young and old to sway and gyrate, thrashing to the rhythmic sound.  Teeny tiny bottoms of toddlers on all fours bob up and down. Another toddler struts. The drums are infectious.

Young families picnic.  Athletic young men try their hand at balancing on a thin strip of cord.  A blanket full of the most beautiful young people I have seen in one place at one time, lounge indolently in the shade.  A tiny tot drops his food in the grass and bends down to pick it up; putting it in his mouth he adds a few greens to his diet.  We seek the shade. Montrealers, it seems, are drawn to the sun.

I lie back on our blanket and look at the sky — listening to the drums.

After the Tam-Tam Jam, before boarding the metro and heading home, we make a detour by bus to the Val Mont Marche des Épicurien. Discovering it on our first Monday in Montreal when we went from hospital to clinic trying to find a nurse to remove stitches from Mike’s forehead — but that’s another story.

At the market, I purchase more fresh vegetables and fruit to add to my already bulging stash at the apartment, more cheese, fresh pasta, pine nuts, various and sundry épicurien delights, and another bottle of wine — white to drink and cook with.

Then we head home.