strange experience in old montreal

day in day out we seem to in need of a host to crash with. we have been couchsurfing for only one night, and wake up each day with the dread, and anticipation of possibly not finding a couch.

we went to the metro really far in one direction in search of a punk house called the squaler. we ended up in a huge factory district that smelled of rotting chickens, brewers yeast, and the occasional sugar cane. we hunted and hunted but the address we received must have been wrong, as the house did not exist.

we then found out that couchsurfing was having its 10year birthday meeting in montreal and we thought we would be able to find a host there for sure. we went to this really rich neighbourhood that actually had detactched housing and front lawns (different than what we have seen so far). a man named Yan said we could stay with him. he was a low talker who seemed very reserved.
when we arrived at the meeting it was just closing up, and yan threw a dishrag at dave and i and said something and pointed at the dishes.

we met someone from romania who was in the process of straightening her teeth with braces in montreal because back in romania her teeth would bleed and ache because they tightened them too fast.

anyway we did the dishes and yan turned off the light and told us we were going somewhere. again the language barrier. he gave us keys to a loft in old town montreal that we could stay in for the night. we arrived after passing the oldest building in montreal 1600 something, to an old decaying, seemingly abandoned space. i remember the light most vivdly, a pale flourescent light shone from the top floor down the stairway emitting a greenish glow over the peeling paint and broken tiled walkways. we went up three flights of stairs down a few corridors until we reached room 12. again we didn`t hear anyone or see any signs that this building was even in use. he gave us the keys and left. we opened to the door ro reveil an amazing space, fully furnished and nice, a complete surprise to what we waded through outside of the door. we were still really creeped out and decided to search the place to find out if this guy was crazy. we found a dresser full of elaborate womens clothing, paintings of naked men, and a television that only played static. i kept thinking of psycho, or american psycho for that matter. we decided we werent going to sleep very well and hit the streets of old montreal and finally slept around 4am.

awoke early as yan said he would swing by to pick up the keys. i left the loft to go accross the street for a coffee and wait for dave and yan. heavy rain was coming down through thick grey clouds. on my way out of the building i hear a televsion voice and some horrible rap playing through some of the doors, realizing that the space was in fact in use.
i sat with a coffee no later than to see dave walk into the cafe with plastic bags over his feet, slish-sloshing about. his shoes were ruined in the rain and gave off a putrid smell of decaying rodents.
yan came in about 2 hours late, and we gave him the key and talked to him waryingly, about the night, the loft, and about him. the place is used for the fringe festival, and the whole loft is underconstruction. everything made sense.

im currently in the grand biblioteque at berri uqam metro with 3 minutes remaining on my internet usage, its crazy how fast an hour can go by. and also how fast 3 and a half weeks can go by.