Two Executions
This week two men were executed in different prisons here in the United States. Troy Davis was one of them, and his case received nationwide attention because there was considerable doubt about his guilt. 

And as last minute appeals to grant him a stay of execution were heard, nearly every news station in America covered the story live. Here was yet another case of a black American being put to death, in-spite of doubts about his guilt - and America was troubled.

Meanwhile, earlier that same evening, a man convicted of a brutal, racially motivated murder, was executed in Texas. And millions around the nation cheered. 

This man, Lawrence Russell Brewer, was a white man who had killed a black man by dragging him chained behind his truck for two miles - simply because he was black. It was a heinous hate-crime, and Mr. Brewer received little sympathy as he headed for the gallows.

But as thousands stood outside the prison (and millions more watched on television) and protested Mr. Davis' execution - nothing of the kind occurred in Texas. Indeed , for many, he couldn't be executed fast enough. However, there was one man there - protesting the execution of this white racist. There was a voice raised to say "This is wrong." And it was the voice of a black man who had himself often been on the receiving end of racist behavior. Yet here he stood to oppose the execution of one of the most evil of racists imaginable. This man was Dick Gregory.

A Slap to the Face
I first heard Dick Gregory speak in 1969, when I was a freshman in college at a little farm town in Washington State named Pullman; home to Washington State University. I remember him saying "I've never been here before, and even though this is a little all-white town in the middle of nowhere - I could find and buy heroin within three hours." That comment hit me like a slap in the face. It said to me, "you think you're in some protected bubble here? Well, there are no protective bubbles my friend. Reality is everywhere." And over his long career - Dick Gregory has slapped a lot of faces - and made many think the same thing I did, so long ago.

Dick Gregory became famous as a comedian. He was part of the first generation of so-called "cross-over" black comedians (negro, back then) that were allowed to present their material to white audiences. Hugh Hefner booked him into the Chicago Playboy Club in the early 60's - and he was on his way. He was funny. And safe. Along with other pioneering black comedians like Bill Cosby and Nipsy Russell, he delivered a tame sort of humor that white America could handle, while adjusting to the fact that he was "a negro".

But as time went on - he became less safe. He became a mentor to Cassius Clay - probably the most hated black man in America at the time. And when Clay became a Muslim and changed his name to Muhammed Ali, the association further weakened his acceptability in white America. 

Mr. Gregory then became a vocal and articulate critic of the war in Viet Nam. And white America pushed him further aside. And when Dick became a vegetarian - now he was deemed certifiably weird - and definitely no longer safe. 

Once weighing 350 pounds, drinking a fifth of Scotch and smoking four packs of cigarettes a day - his transformation both physically and ideologically troubled white America. Not only was he no longer safe - he had become downright threatening. And his days as a mainstream comedian were over.

Morality Affirmed
But Dick has stuck around, and continued to be the man he transformed himself into. His acerbic wit and unusual life-style have been challenging America's cultural pillars for over 50 years now. He has remained a fixture on the cultural periphery, a sort of modern Mark Twain, pointing to America's warts and blemishes and reminding us all that we're not nearly as cute as we think we are.

So when I saw him outside that Texas prison the other day - I wasn't really surprised. He was once again delivering a sharp 'slap to the face' of America. His presence there was a rebuke to the hypocrisy of those who opposed an unjust execution on the one hand, while they cheered a "just" one with the other. His presence and opposition to the killing of one of the most vile people to ever walk this Earth was a clarion call for moral consistency. For integrity.

I too had, deep within, cheered Mr. Brewer's execution. I remember thinking to myself, "Good. I hope he rots in hell." But as I saw Dick Gregory silently standing there - saying no to death, and yes to humanity - I once again felt that sharp slap in the face he first delivered to me as a young college student. And I felt pure, unadulterated shame for what I had just thought about this man's execution. 

And for instilling that feeling of shame and self-embarrassment in me, I have only one thing to say to Dick Gregory.
Thank you.

Each summer and fall the parks of the Bay Area are home to outdoor performances of what may be the most unique, and is certainly the most politically progressive, theatrical group in the entire nation. 

The San Francisco Mime Troupe is now in its 51st year of bringing politically left street theater to Bay Area audiences - and they wrap-up this season's round of free outdoor shows next week-end in Walnut Creek.
http://www.sfmt.org/schedule/index.php

Each summer brings a new musical comedy production - and each production is a scintillatingly witty and penetrating look at social and political issues in today's world.

 I first saw the Mime Troupe in 1975 at San Francisco's Dolores Park when they performed Hotel Universe - a show about a popular struggle in The City to maintain affordable housing for the elderly. And since then I've seen more of their performances than I can remember.

The collective of actors and writers who produce the plays receive no corporate funding and pretty much rely on donations to keep going each year. Their performances are free, with the 'hat' passed around after each show. The productions employ a portable stage and set which they haul around the Bay Area each year in their signature truck sporting a big red star.

Over the years the Mime Troupe has satirized everything from the Reagan Revolution, the war in Iraq, the loss of manufacturing in the US, the rise of the religious right - to this year's production of 2012 - The Musical. And don't be thrown by the word Mime. They use the word in its traditional sense meaning to mimic.

Each performance is accompanied by live music with original songs written by Mime Troupe personnel. And the music is always one of the highlights of the show, with jazzy arrangements and spot-on satirical lyrics. It's like attending an outdoor musical cabaret written and produced by Che Guevara. And it's as San Francisco as anything gets.

Their last three performances this year are all this week - so if you're in town and want to see a truly special phenomena that could only exist here - you still have time.

Is Québec in Canada?  
Seems like a simple question, answerable with a quick peek at a map. Yet each time I return and my friends at home ask me how my trip to "Canada" was, I always hesitate for a moment and have to ask myself, "what trip to Canada?" Then I remember the map, and I mutter a colloquial reply of some sort. 

But the fact is, when I'm in the province of Québec, I never really feel like I'm in Canada. When I travel to Vancouver, or Toronto, or Ottawa - yes - I know I'm in Canada. But Montréal, Québec City, Baie St. Paul? Then I'm no longer quite so sure. 

And it's much more than a geographical, or 'east versus west' issue. For example, I've recently been to Texas, New York, Washington state and Arizona. Each quite different, yet each completely American. But Calgary and Trois Rivieres? Now things aren't quite so matter of fact.

I realize that I tread on a touchy subject here. After all, twice in the last 30ish years the question of Québec sovereignty has been voted on in the province; bitterly contested and narrowly defeated both times. Raise the issue in north of the border social gatherings today and faces are quick to flush, tempers flare - and a hasty change of subject is usually the result. But I've been to Canada and its province of Québec a lot, and I'd like to share some of my experiences and impressions on the subject.

Parlez-vous français?
The biggest difference is, of course, language. English is spoken throughout most of Canada. For Americans, a trip to Canada is more like crossing a state line than an international border. Vancouver is so like Seattle in some ways that it's easy to get momentarily confused as to which one you're actually in. 

But cross the border into Québec, and suddenly it becomes very clear that you are indeed in a foreign country. The signs are in French. The newspapers, TV, radio - French. The people around you as you arrive are all (or mostly) speaking French. And suddenly, Vermont seems a million miles away instead of its actual one-hour drive from Montréal.

Officially, Canada is a bi-lingual country. 1969 saw the passing of the Official Languages Act insuring for the first time that all government services be provided in both French and English. And the Law 101 makes French the official language of the province of Québec. But the bi-lingualism only goes so far. 

Ask a question in English anywhere in Montreal and you are 99% certain to receive a response in French-accented English. But ask a question in French anywhere in Calgary, or Regina, or Winnipeg - and you are 99% certain to be met with a blank stare.

So is Canada really bi-lingual? Well - a large percentage of the citizens of Québec do speak, at the very least, functional English. Indeed, in public areas of Montréal you can expect fluency. But very, very few Canadians living in the other provinces speak any French whatsoever. Rien. So, in my experience, the answer is - it depends on where you are. As I heard someone say at a francophone dinner party in Montréal once - Yeah, Canada is bi-lingual - because we have to speak English.

A Culture of Difference
When I lived in South-Central LA in the early 70's, I was certainly in the USA - but I was also in a place few white Americans ever came to, or knew anything about. Yet everyone who lives in South-Central LA (no matter which city it's in) knows everything about "America". I get that same feeling when I'm on le plateau Mont-Royal in Montréal, or the neighborhoods of Québec City, or any number of other places in the province of Québec. 

And francophone Québecers largely feel the same. Canadians from other provinces are referred to as "the English". The sense of differentness is everywhere in Québec. I've been to Montréal 16 times in the last several years - and I can count on one hand the number of Canadian flags I've seen. But the blue and white flag of Québec with the fleur de lis is everywhere. 

Language and culture are inseparable. And I can certainly feel a much greater affinity between Paris and Québec City than the latter has with Regina. 

Fortress Québec
Québec has something else in-common with the South-Central LA's of the US; a sense of differentness born of being second-class citizens. And that's only natural given its history. 

In a very real sense, Québec remains an un-digested element of British colonial expansion. Québec, by losing a war, was subjected to British/Canadian political control - but it has always proudly guarded its unique linguistic and cultural identity. In-fact, the French spoken in Québec sounds more like that of Louis IV than that of modern-day Paris. And this is precisely because the linguistic integrity of Québec's French has been so zealously guarded from the assault of the sea of English surrounding it. Québec's isolation created a linguistic time-capsule of sorts.

And in many ways, Québec is more French than France herself. Come to a street corner anywhere in France and you see a Stop sign. Do the same in Québec and the sign says Arrêt. In France you send an email; in Québec un courriel. And there are many more examples like this. All manifestations of Québecers vigilance in protecting their culture & language from the cultural force of its Anglo neighbors. 

For most of its history in Canada, Québec has felt the sting of language discrimination and something less than full social inclusion. As a result, Québec's population was poorer and less integrated into national life than the citizens of any other province until quite recently. Something black Americans can definitely  relate to. Maybe that's why I always have a sub-sense of familiarity with everything Québécois.

Oh Canada
So is Québec really Canadian? Well, of course the answer is yes in formal political and economic terms. And the question of sovereignty is certainly not a topic of serious discussion anywhere in Canada today - including Québec.

But neither is it dead. Many still wish for it - someday - while accepting the facts on the ground of today. And even those Québecers who do not dream of sovereignty and are proudly Canadian, are at least equally proud of their unique culture and language. 

On my latest trip to Montréal, two of the biggest news stories were about Prime-Minister Harper's appointment of a communications chief who does not speak French, and a campaign to suppress the encroachment of English into public signs in downtown Montréal. And it seemed the near universal reaction to both stories across the province was a sense of exasperated acceptance that their guard can never be let down. 

So - Yes - Montréal and the rest of Québec is Canadian. If you look hard enough, you might even find a Canadian flag there to prove it. But cultural vigilance, provincial pride, and a deep sense of uniqueness are center-pieces of life for les Québécois - and The English forget this at their peril.

Memory Lane
There's a long walkway at the San Francisco Airport which leads to the United Airlines gates. And it has become a museum of sorts, with fascinating exhibits of varying kinds displayed there throughout the year; an entertaining and educational diversion for travelers passing by. 

Over the years I've seen exhibits of kitchen-ware, computers, furniture, and much more as I passed by on the way to catch a flight. It changes about four times a year - and is always interesting.

As I walked through the current display a few weeks ago, I initially smiled and thought "How cool !" It's a collection of 1950's television and public media memorabilia. There were the faces and programs I had grown-up watching. 

I knew them all quite well, and had specific memories involving each. For anyone over 55 - this was a walk through our own personal history. There was Howdy Doodie, and the Honeymooners. The Lone Ranger, Davy Crockett, and Hop Along Cassidy. 

There were the old TV's from the 50's too. I can still remember when they seemed quite modern to me. Now they looked unbelievably old, and primitive. And over it all hung the air of nostalgia. My initial reaction was one of a sense of fondness; a sense of missing the joys of this simpler, happier time. I think it's a fairly common reaction to seeing images from one's childhood. 

I'd arrived quite early for my flight that day, so I was able to really take my time. I slowly walked from one exhibit case to another - reading the descriptions - lingering over photos I knew well, but hadn't seen in many years.

But as I neared the half-way point, I noticed that I was no longer feeling the warm and soothing glow of sentimentality that I'd experienced when I first approached the exhibit. 

A Detour to Reality
As I got deeper and deeper into the displays, that wistful sense of homesickness that is the core element of nostalgia was suddenly gone. 

I stood staring at photos of the Mickey Mouse Club, Ozzie & Harriet, and Wagon Train - and I gradually became overwhelmed with the inverse of my initial sense of nostalgia. I was becoming depressed and uncomfortable. 

And as I arrived at a photo of one of my all-time favorite childhood movies - Old Yeller - I was completely consumed with a sense of lamentation and annoyance. I caught a reflective glimpse of myself in the glass of the display case - and was shocked to see a look of pure, undiluted disdain on my face. In the space of twenty minutes I had gone from dreamy nostalgia to utter contempt - and sadness. And I knew why.

I suppose popular media is always a reflection not only of who we are - but also of how we want to see ourselves. It is the projection of our values, our interests - our society and culture. And that is why I was suddenly feeling so very un-nostalgic. 

For as I looked at all those happy faces and scenes from the 50's, it was suddenly very clear to me that in none of them did I see a reflection of who I was during that time. Indeed, these images and that culture were a very clear and obvious negation of me - and everyone like me. These images said to me "not only do you not count - we wish you weren't even here." 

You see, in none of those happy faces and scenes of life were there any images of people of color. There were no Asians. There were no Latinos. And there were certainly no black faces - nor black lives - featured in this compendium of American happiness. None. Not one. 

Ashes to Ashes
And as I stood there, I realized that as a child in the 50's I had absorbed thousands of images and messages that said "You don't matter. You don't count."

Yes - we've come a long, long way from that America - though we still have many challenges in front of us - and barriers to overcome. But the America displayed in those exhibits disappeared a long time ago. And as I strolled toward my flight that morning, my overriding feeling was "Thank God those days are gone."  My homesickness had evaporated in the realization that that America had never been my home. I had never been invited in. For me, that walk down memory lane had grabbed nostalgia by the throat - and shoved it into the grave where it so justly belongs.

So RIP 50's nostalgia. I miss you Not.

Every time I make a connection at Washington's Dulles Airport, I notice a fleet of very mysterious 767's parked on a side tarmac. Sometimes there are six or seven of them sitting in the same area.

They are all painted white - with no tail numbers. In-fact, they have no identification markers of any kind. None.

They're not corporate jets, as those are required to  have tail numbers. So whoever they belong to, the owners are not required to adhere to international aviation identification standards.

I've become a little curious about these mystery jets. Who do they belong to? What is their function? 

Mystère et boule de gomme.

Probably the best known cultural export of the province of Québec is the Cirque du Soleil. From its origins in the streets of Québec City in the early 1980's, it has grown into a multi-billion dollar mega-force with 22 unique productions currently playing around the world.

Québec Comes First
But the founder of the Cirque - Guy Laliberte - has never forgotten his Québec roots. Many shows are first performed in Montréal before going on tour - and other special  little Cirque treats pop-up on the Québec cultural landscape from time to time. 

I happened to stumble on two such items last weekend; and they were both pretty cool.

The first was in the provincial capital of Québec City - Mr. Laliberte's birthplace. For the last four summers the Cirque du Soleil has presented a free open-air production as a gift of sorts to the people of Québec - and to celebrate the 400th anniversary of le Ville de Québec.

The theater is set-up under a freeway overpass in downtown Québec City, and each night for two months you are invited to come watch an hour long, no-holds barred, Cirque du Soleil production. 

On Saturday I was lucky enough to catch this summer's final performance of Chemins Invisibles. Except for 150 $15 seats, it's all standing room only - first come, first served - and free. And since so much of the action takes place in the air - there's no need to worry if you're standing behind someone tall. Performances begin at sundown and are always packed.

Earth Comes to Montréal
And no sooner had I returned to Montréal than I discovered another little slice of Guy Laliberte's artistic genius. Located in the heart of downtown is the Place des Arts - home to a wide variety of cultural performances year-round. And just adjacent to the main theater is an outdoor display area which is currently featuring 30 giant photographs of Earth taken from outer-space. And can you guess who took these photos?

Yep - they were all taken by Guy Laliberte himself on his recent trip into Earth orbit aboard a Russian spaceship. He paid $25 million dollars for the experience, and to help publicize his charity, The One Drop Foundation.
 
http://www.onedrop.org/en/default.aspxweeblylink_new_window

The outdoor photo exhibit is beautifully arranged, with dreamy musical accompaniment from speakers above the photos - and it too is completely free. Each photo is exquisite and comes with a geographical description and technical details on camera type and film. As I strolled through the exhibition, I couldn't help but reflect on the depth and quality of Québec's artistic contribution to the world. It really is astounding.

It's a province of only 7 million people - but her impact on the artistic world is out of all proportion to her size. And Cirque du Soleil and Guy Laliberte are a big part of that impact. 

Tropical Storm Irene
Yesterday had been planned-out far in-advance. A gathering of friends and family had been scheduled, arrangements made, expectations set. But tropical storm Irene had other plans - and as is always the case - Mother Nature won.

The anticipated lovely late-summer day quickly gave way to powerful winds and torrential rain, and in the name of safety and common sense, our plans were cancelled and everyone wound-up hunkered-down in their respective homes for the duration. 

And as luck would have it, just as dusk was settling over us, we lost electrical power. There would be no cooking of dinner, no TV or radio - nothing of the modern world. And this was pure serendipity.

Out came the candles, and we sat together contemplating our options. It was then that we remembered the bottle of Sauternes and tin of Fois Gras purchased earlier this year while on a tour of the Bordeaux vineyards. Either one of these would've been a treat, but together they result in one of the truly great culinary indulgences imaginable.

The Child of Noble Rot
Surrounded on three sides by the red wine producing district of Graves, and by the Garonne River on the other, Sauternes is home to (in my view) the best sweet wines in the world. The secret to the production of Sauternes is the presence of the warm Garonne on one side and its smaller tributary, the Ciron, with its much cooler waters, on the other.

The combination results in nightly mists coating the vines, that then dissipate during the day under the warm sun. The affect of this process on the region's grapes leads to their dehydration, and the development of a rot on the fruit. This causes the grapes to become partially raisined, leading to a concentrated and distinctly flavored sweet wine. 

If taken too far - the rot is simply rot - and the grapes are useless. But if the process develops in just the right way - it leads to the growth of what is called Noble Rot. And from these grapes drips the nectar for which the vineyards of Sauternes are justly famous. It is a delicate balancing act that is very hit or miss - and leads to great differences from harvest to harvest. But to my rather un-trained palate, it is simply a difference in degrees of deliciousness.

The Sauternes wine
The Sauternes region is quite small and divided into five communes; Barsac, Sauternes, Bommes, Fargues, and Preignac. Only wines produced here may bear the name Sauternes. 

Production of this varietal is subject to the rigorous rules and guidelines which characterize all Bordeaux wine making. Each vintage must pass a "tasting exam" to gauge its sweetness, and is required to have a minimum of 13% alcohol before it can sport the appellation Sauternes. 
http://www.terroir-france.com/region/bordeaux_sauternes.htmweeblylink_new_window

The entire process results in a rather expensive final product - but my only reaction to that is to say, "you get what you pay for". Sauternes usually come in half-bottles. And holding a glass of Sauternes to you nose yields the scents of honey, apricots, and peaches. It is best served chilled between 52 - 55° F, and can be paired with many foods with delightful results.

But the classic pairing is with the utterly decadent and completely delicious Foie Gras de Canard. And mind you, I am normally a vegetarian. But as the French love to say - il y a des limites !

All in all - an absolutely wonderful evening. Thus proving that a little break from social obligations and electricity can yield some of life's simplest and most sublime joys. 

Among the most unique architectural characteristics of Montréal are the ubiquitous stairways leading to the upper floors of apartment buildings. You see this feature all over town - but especially on the Plateau Mont Royal, the French-speaking heart of the city and hub to everything that makes Montréal the special place that it is.

Virtually everyone who lives on the Plateau lives in an apartment building. It's a compact area where - if you don't know your neighbors - you definitely hear them. Very few buildings are more than three-stories here, and none (that I've seen) have elevators. Nor do they have internal stairwells.

Rather - access to the upper floors is gained via staircases in-front and behind the building - thus maximizing the available living space within. And a lot of thought has gone into the design of these staircases. 

They often sport elaborate railings, creative paint-jobs, and quite often urban landscaping. The over-all affect is quite aesthetically appealing and gives the city a very unique character.

Most of these external staircases also have small balconies or terraces at each upper level. For many residents of the city this provides their only outdoor space. It is quite common - in the summer - to see people sitting outside on their staircase balconies enjoying the warm weather and sharing late afternoon apéritifs with friends and family.

However, when winter arrives these same staircases are covered in ice and snow. And while still charming and pleasing to the eye - they definitely become a challenge to navigate. I'll show you those when the time comes - but for now, let's enjoy summer; while it lasts.

A Forgotten Gem
 There really is no wrong choice when planning a trip to France. It's a country that seems to have something for everyone within the confines of the Texas sized hexagon; from the sensual allure of Provence, to the gastronomical joys of Burgundy and the dazzle of Paris - France has it all.

Yet in-spite of its world-wide notoriety as the home to possibly the world's best wines - Bordeaux seems to have fallen off the radar screen of many Gallic itineraries. 

The city itself often seems just an afterthought when scouting la carte des vins at a nice restaurant elsewhere in France. And so this world-famous name has oddly become one of France's best kept secrets. But in reality, Bordeaux is a wonder, and a very pleasant surprise for the intrepid traveler.

A City for Walking 
One of the most delightful things about visiting Bordeaux is its pedestrian friendly core. Many of the major streets here are for walking only and completely free of cars.

Yet getting around is a breeze with the city's 'state of the art' tram system. The modern tram is the world's first to incorporate a French developed technology which eliminates overhead wiring. The aesthetic impact of this is a wonderful freeing of the sight-lines throughout the left-bank (the city is built on both sides of the Garonne) core of the city.

Walking through the left bank neighborhoods, one will find old city areas with buildings many hundreds of years old as well as the more modern area from the 18th century with its magnificent Versailles style architecture. Cathedrals, museums, remnants of Roman occupation - it's all here.

And the cherry on top is without doubt the magnificent quai with the Garonne River on one side and the Place de la Borse on the other. Here you can amble for more than a mile amidst the beautifully landscaped gardens - where you're welcome to sit on the grass - and the magnificent white stone buildings which create an unbroken vista of 18th century splendor. And amazingly - you will see none of the graffiti which scars nearly every wall in Paris these days.

The Water Mirror
The crown jewell of a walk along the quai is a fountain unlike any other you have ever seen. Called the Miroir d'Eau (the water mirror), it was placed in front of the square at the Place de la Bourse with the intent of creating two plazas; and so it seems to the eye. It is one of the most spectacular things you will ever see - and it alone is worth a visit to Bordeaux. No photograph can do it justice.

Add to this an atmosphere of truly warm - and proud - hospitality, and you have a destination that will be one of the highlights of any trip to France.

Named by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site - the Bordeaux Tourism Office has become a quite active center of efforts to promote visits to their city. They offer tour packages and itineraries that are an absolutely magnificent value.

A City That Makes an Effort
You can arrange a two or three day visit through the Tourism Office which includes hotel, meal discounts, guided walking tours of the city, guided tours of the wine region (both in French and English - and both excellent), free tastings at wine shops around the city, passes to several museums, complimentary tram tickets - and even a gift basket with a bottle of one of Bordeaux's finest. 
And the range of prices available for the different tourist packages offered will accommodate any budget. Unlike the Office of Tourism in most cities, the one in Bordeaux is actually a beehive of activity and a key component to getting the most from a trip to the city. 

So if you're burned-out on the ubiquitous mobs, exorbitant prices, graffiti scarred walls, and less than pleasant odors of Paris, Bordeaux may be the perfect antidote. 

All in all, Bordeaux is just a wonderful place to visit. Sophisticated, beautiful, and inexpensive - it really has it all.

Bon voyage !



http://www.bordeauxtourisme.com/uk/preparer_son_sejour/accueil.htmlweeblylink_new_window

One of the first things you notice about Montréal in the summer is the bikes. They're everywhere. For a populace trapped inside a good part of the year by icy winter weather, summer is a time to soak-in every ounce of outdoor time you can - and bikes are a major part of that.

This is a city where velo-culture is taken quite seriously. Biking tours, contests, shops, repairs, and equipment are part of daily life here all year long - but especially in the summer.

The Plateau Mont-Royal is the center of French-speaking Montréal, and an area criss-crossed with bike lanes. Walking on the Plateau requires attention not just to cars - but care in crossing the ubiquitous velo highways too. The sound of bike chimes alerting non-attentive pedestrians are heard more often than car horns here.
http://www.caroulemontreal.com/pdf/verso28.pdfweeblylink_new_window

And for the truly adventurous there are bike touring events of every type and description organized under the umbrella of Vélo Québec. From the Tour de la Nuit to the Tour de l'île de Montréal to the Montréal bike fest - this place has got it all. The range of events and excursions is mind-boggling and sure to provide something of interest to any biking appetite.
http://www.velo.qc.ca/en/feria/The-Montreal-Bike-Festweeblylink_new_window

And one need not even own a bike in Montréal to become part of the peddling culture. BIXI Montréal is a public bike sharing program (just like the one in Paris) which positions bikes around the city for open access public use. You need only register and pay a nominal fee in-order to use a bike anytime you need one, without the obligations and headaches of ownership.
http://montreal.bixi.com/weeblylink_new_window

Locking stations are conveniently located all-around Montréal so you are always able to secure your bike when out and about. And new bike paths are being added constantly. The cumulative impact of these initiatives has made Montréal one of the most bike-friendly cities on the planet.

So if you enjoy biking and lament the lack of accommodation where you live, perhaps a peddling vacation in Québec is just what the doctor ordered. You will definitely be among a like-minded population. And the streets of Montréal will offer you the ease of navigation only dreamt of in most American cities.