The hotel in Montreal seemed decent enough. Nothing special, but it had free wi-fi and included free breakfast, which was brought to my door.
My only complaint was that I woke up and saw a tiny bug crawling on the blanket. Brushed it onto the ground and smashed the small pinkish bug, fearful that it was what it indeed turned out to be.
The pink tone was from the blood the bug was full of. Bright red blood. My blood. The insect had gorged itself.
North America has been going through a bedbug epidemic in recent years. This was my first North American bedbug. Previously, I'd encountered them not in Ethiopia, Laos, or East Timor. Not in a skanky hostel. No, only in a nice place in Sydney.
Great. Now I have to wash everything as soon as I get home. Or at least seal it all in plastic until the morning, and then submerge myself in the bathtub for ten minutes for good measure. Don't want to carry bedbugs into my home.
I did enjoy my "breakfast-in-bed," aside from being so worried about bedbugs that I ate it on the bare wooden floor instead. I tried not to look at the red spot where I'd smashed the bug.
Creeped out, I left early for the Gare Central. I stopped at the store to pick up bottled water and some film for my SLR. I approached the cashier.
"Buenos dias," I said. She looked a little puzzled, then said "Bonjour."
Caught the subway back to the train station. Went into McDonald's to buy a wi-fi card and tear through the morning's comic book work from Kuwait.
"Hola," I started. Then, damn… "Bonjour."
I bought an orange juice and a wi-fi card.
"Danke," I said brightly.
"Merci," replied the cashier.
Maybe I should just stop learning Arabic now.