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Neighbourhoods: Little Italy |
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All are benvenuti in Montreal's proud red, white and green community
by DeAnne Smith
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| Photos by Lora Perrone |
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At first glance, Montréal's Little Italy could be Little Italy anywhere. Street signs show Italy booting Sicily like a soccer ball. There's a park, a bookstore, and a place selling imported handbags and shoes. Espresso machines hiss, silverware clangs and Italian words ring from bars and cafés. Frescoes decorate the Church of the Madonna della Difesa while restaurants dress up in red, white and green.
A closer look, however, reveals a more modern and multicultural community than you might expect. Caraballo Disco blasts its patrons with Latin American beats. The landscaping in Dante Park, named after the father of modern Italian, reads "La Petite Italie." One of the area's most popular events is the Afrocentric Kalmunity Collective's weekly spoken word and music jam at Sablo Café. Miniature Italian flags hang over a restaurant serving sushi. Across from traditional Restaurant Piccola Italia stand bright orange, shaggy umbrellas that dot the patio at Bar Mary. And that captivating church on the corner of St. Laurent and St. Zotique has been converted into condos.
Even Little Italy's geography is hard to pin down. The arches on St. Laurent at Jean Talon and St. Zotique mark North and South but Italian flags pop up from about Drolet to Marconi, making East/West limits ambiguous.
Gray-haired men in crisp slacks and collared shirts cluster outside Caffe Italia. Inside, hipsters in ripped jeans sip espresso and watch big screen TVs. A stout man sits on a bench with his hands atop his belly, dictating our conversation's condition: "No names." Then, instead of spilling Little Italy's secrets, he opts for the obvious. "Fifty years, the café's been here." He's been around for about thirty, long enough to note the neighborhood's changes. "The new generation is less here; they're in St. Leonard or Laval." There's no shortage of young people, though; he's referring specifically to Italians.
Espresso machines hiss, silverware clangs and Italian words ring from bars and cafés.
John Facchino, owner of Café de la Petite Italie and a lifelong Little Italy resident, says, "The first time I really realized things were changing -- and expanding -- was when the funeral parlor was bought out. The funeral parlor was there for ages and they just removed it. Why would you buy a funeral parlor?" It's not a rhetorical question and Facchino's not complaining. "They came in and replaced the spot with a restaurant. I think [all the activity] is beautiful. That's what it's all about."
Lest establishments run and frequented by non-residents make the area feel too commercial, Milano's grocery store creates a sense of community. Four storefronts wide, it's stocked with authentic Italian products: pizzelle, biscotti, fresh pasta, olives, cheeses, sodas and soaps. Tourists pick up treats alongside residents planning dinner.
Trendy and traditional, Italian and interracial, Montréal's Little Italy is unique. The sign outside Dante's, a 51-year-old store that sells kitchenware and firearms, captures its spirit. C'è tutto per tutti, meaning there's something for everyone. Or, as Facchino puts it: "The whole Little Italy, you know, we're cool."
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