A plume of fragrant, smoky air drifted across the walkway. Chestnuts! Actual roasting chestnuts. Like the song. Like the postcard. Like the Christmas fantasy your inner eight-year-old still believes in.
As we waited for takeoff, watching snow swirl past the glass, it felt like Montreal was giving us one final, dramatic curtain call. A soft reminder that winter here isn't just a season - it's an experience.