Montreal beckons me. I can't say I am sorry to leave Toronto. The last one year has been such a whirlwind of commuting, teaching, reading and writing that socializing or sight seeing was not at all in my "to do list." I have not been to the Niagara Falls, or to the CN Tower or to any of the many museums that Toronto can rightfully boast of. I don't have regrets either. There comes a time when other things take priority.

Everybody I talk to, to tell the news of my imminent move, gushes about Montreal. Montreal is supposed to The Most Fun City, although I have doubts whether I will be partaking in all those fun. Montreal is also less of many things that Toronto is--less crowded, less noisy, less traffic, less of the fast paced life-style--which suit me just fine. At least this time around I am moving to another city with good tidings from friends and colleagues.

Years ago, when we moved from Dallas to Fort Worth, we only received pitying glances. Fort Worth was supposed to be a ramshackle of a city, every body who went to Fort Worth apparently got mugged, cars got stolen, gun fights erupted every now and then, and similar such statistics went on and on from friends. We moved with trepidation. In reality, Fort Worth was one of the best places that we had lived in. An older city than Dallas, it is full of historical significance. Founded by an army major with his troops in 1849, the city later became a frequent stop for cattlemen herding through the area. Reputed as a major "cow town" Fort Worth still has a large Stock-yard visited by tourists everyday. The Botanic and Japanese gardens, the Science museum, and the IMAX Omni Theater became our frequent haunting spots. The Fort Worth zoo was right next door to us. The best of all, Kimbell Art Museum is one that any city could boast of. In 1995, when we were moving to Fort Worth, it was one of only eight cities selected in the entire U.S. to exhibit European masterpieces loaned out for display. Since then there have been displays of Monet, Renoir, Matisse, Picasso and other European greats as well as of Japanese paintings, Mughal art, Ancient Chinese art and many more. Sponsored and supported by old money in this old cowboy city, the museum undoubtedly does a lot to uphold refined culture.

But what really make me still think fondly of the place are the friends that we made during the four years. The Bangladeshi community was small compared to that of Dallas and we became tight-knit especially with two families. These are now life long friends tested through the worst of adversities as well as by happier times. What is the saying about friends in need...? My university friends too, now scattered all over the world, stay in touch. Roger and his wife are expecting their first child, a boy, in June. Laura, his wife, is in remission from cancer. We all wait, fingers crossed, that everything goes alright. Joonna, my friend and counselor rolled into one and the big sister I never had, continues to give me words of wisdom whenever I seem to lack some. Zoltan, having lost his first wife to the rigors of graduate studies in Texas, seems happy now with his second wife, a lawyer, and their two kids in Hungary. Every time there is a hurricane in Taiwan I wonder if Cherry is doing ok. Mary, at Georgia Tech, just had her second child, a daughter. My dear friend Earnest and I used to commiserate with each other when things got too frantic--on how much life sucked. He is doing well now, having got tenure last year--except on the social front. He sends me pictures of his latest lady friends, a lawyer or a fellow professor, but nothing develops. Perhaps his extreme shyness could have something to do with his not getting a life partner yet. He was the most liked among us. Enormously popular, he was a good friend giving selflessly whenever anyone needed some help. There were many times when I would leave my daughter at the T.A office and ask Earnest to keep an eye on her while I went to class. Carla had tried to set him up with her friends but nothing came out of it. It was Earnest who forwarded me the news that Carla had passed away this April 15 while battling cancer. For days I could think of nothing else--the rides she would give me, tales we swapped of graduate school stress, of kids and babysitting and just about everything. I still have a birthday card that Carla had signed.

Fort Worth may not have had the glitter of a big city but it sure did have people with big hearts. I just hope Montreal promises to be the same. For me, the second time has been the charm.

As I prepare to change provinces, I have been following with interest the petty wrangling between Ontario and Quebec, courtesy of partisan politics. Even though Ontario, with Alberta, is the richest province of Canada, it is not necessarily the favorite of the Conservative Prime Minister Stephen Harper. Ontario has a liberal Premier, Dalton McGuinty, who doesn't seem to share the best of vibes these days with the P.M. Quebec Premier Jean Charest, also a liberal, formerly a federal Progressive Conservative, is more in the good books of the prime Minister. There seems to be a reason too.

Since becoming Prime Minister, Harper has gone out of his way to build his government's popularity in Quebec. Political observers have said the whole focus of the Harper minority government is to win a majority whenever the next federal election occurs. Quebec seems a viable option. However, this approach -- which some strategists consider key to a possible majority government for the Conservatives in the next federal election -- appears to be coming at the cost of Ottawa's relationship with McGuinty. In the last meeting with McGuinty, Harper left without as much as a photo op. The day after his meeting with McGuinty, Harper jetted off to Quebec City to sign a deal with Charest giving Quebec a role at UNESCO meetings. There the two men smiled for the cameras.

Politicians, quibbling like children in the guise of grown ups, never cease to amaze me whether it be in Canada or in Bangladesh or elsewhere. Some can go away with it and actually be very good at it with their ready wits and repartee. Others, unfortunately, make goofs of themselves with their gaffes. And we have seen enough of those of the South Asian variety. Of the witty kind, one of my favorites is the story attributed to Winston Churchill, although some have dismissed it as a mere myth. Forgive me if I am repeating, but the story goes that in a usual acrimonious exchange in the parliament, Lady Nancy Astor, in a fit of exasperated rage, snapped at Churchill, "If I were your wife, I would poison your tea." Churchill is said to have replied, "If you were my wife, I would drink it."

Politics aside, I am more concerned about the changes that I and my family would have to endure once in Montreal. For one, French has to be included in our vocabulary if we mean to survive well. Schools and colleges, even the English medium ones, have French as a mandatory component. In the long run though, it promises to bear good fruit. All well-paid prestigious government jobs require that candidates be bilingual. Even the school system is different. Whereas the rest of Canada's high schools finishes at 12th grade, Quebec has a two year college after high school, comprising of 12th and 13th grade, before a student can go to a University. I was complaining about these differences of Quebec to a colleague at McMaster. He commented, "Now, Quebec, that's different." Not that I am apprehensive of changes. I am rather looking forward to experience the differences, even if it means resurrecting my very rusty language acquisition skills.

Rebecca Sultana will be teaching postcolonial literature at the English department, Concordia, Montreal, Canada.