On my recent visit to Montreal, I decided to try out as many coffee shops as possible within two days (not an easy feat!) to produce a 'starter' guide to coffee in Montreal.
Minneapolis. I don't know about you, but when I think of Minneapolis (and granted, it's not often) I imagine somewhere quite westerly within the whole US of A scheme of things. Today I am finding out quite how wrong I am. It's not in the west. It's not even in the middle. Look at a map. It's in the east.
It's big. It's got tall buildings. It speaks French. It has strange red flashing traffic lights that confuse the hell out of us. It's like a cross between a North American city (which it is), a Scottish city like Aberdeen or Edinburgh (which it isn't), and in some strange way (and I'm really gonna get lambasted for this one) - Sydney. Where am I?
One of my most abiding Olympic memories is of the Romanian gymnast Nadia Comaneci at the 1976 Montreal Games. As I recall, there was a heatwave that summer, one that scorched its way across the US like a smoldering fuse-wire, raging through cities and forests, melting tarmac, setting prairies alight and drying my lips to paper.