This year, the Ice Hotel came to Montreal. My dad always
wanted to visit the one in Quebec but we never go there. We decided to go on one of the coldest
weekends this winter because the following week, my dad was leaving for
California.
My mom and I were the only ones prepared for the weather. My
dad is a driver so everywhere he goes, he travels comfortable in his heated
car. My brother is at the peak of his rebellious age. He doesn’t like mittens,
gloves and his head looks better without a hat.
Already the walk from our house to the metro discouraged my
dad.
“Mina, why did you have to choose such a cold day?” He asks.
“’Cuz you’re leaving tomorrow,” I reply.
When we got to Jean Drapeau Metro Station, we had to walk
for another 10 minutes before we got the ice hotel.
Once arrived, we stood on the balcony looking down on the
ice hotel, a space of pure whiteness. There were round igloos in a corner, a
circular central igloo in the middle and two more big igloos on the side. All
that brightness dazzled my eyes.
At the ticket booth, my dad and my brother were already very
cold.
My dad tells me, “Mina, I’ll be in the men’s bathroom. Once
you get the tickets, just knock on the door and I’ll come out.” Ridiculous
because no one does that but nonetheless practical.
Ten minutes later, I got the tickets and we were down on the
bleak white field. We started by the ice hotel, the entrance lighted with a
blue light, some pop music going on. There was a globe, a table, 4 sofas, and a
model of a few of Montreal’s famous buildings, all made of ice. At first we
were impressed. Then we moved along to see the actual ice hotel rooms. Most
consisted of a bed frame made of ice, a mattress and a bed cover made of fur. Some
rooms had different colored lightings or an ice sculpture or a theme. The
circular hotel had 4 checkpoints: the main entrance, the bar and two openings.
There were guides along the hallway and my dad kept asking every single person:
“How many degrees is it indoors at night?”
“Between 2 and 5°C,” they replied.
My dad didn’t believe that. He felt
like it would be -30°C. At the next guide, he repeated his
question.
“How many degrees is it indoors at night?”
The answer didn’t change. It was still: “Between 2 and 5°C.”
He also wondered what people wore to go to sleep. We were
told people wear light pyjamas and were furnished with a heavy sleeping bag. My
dad, eyes wide, replied, “Really? They must be freezing out here!”
We saw two Jacuzzis outside the ice hotel, in the open air.
It’s nice to bathe in warm water but what happens when a person is done bathing;
does the person run 10 meters to get back to their hotel room in a bikini? Or
do they dress up into their snow suit as soon as they get out? Do people even
go to the Jacuzzis?
My dad remembered that Inuits used to live in igloos. He
wondered how they did it because “even if they paid [him]
to sleep in an ice hotel room,” he wouldn’t. “Most affirmatively definitely
never!”
By the end of 30 rooms, my dad said, “Mina, enough. Let’s go
home.”
“But we didn’t even see the church and the restaurant yet.” Since
I paid for the tickets (34$ in all: 50% off the original price), I wanted to
visit everything the ice hotel had to offer.
“Ok,
ok. Where are they?”
The whole thing wasn’t that big so they were
easy to spot. The church was on the left side of the entrance, a massive
semi-circle round igloo with a cross on top. Inside the chairs were made of ice
and there was a beautiful snow sculpture in the wall. My dad didn’t believe it when
I told him people actually got married in here.
“No, you’re kidding.”
“It’s true. Some people reserve to get
married in here and pay 300$ to sleep overnight.”
“Well those “some people” are crazy.” He said
boldly.
Actually, earlier during the tour, my dad
asked how many rooms were filled per night. The guide told us that during the week,
about 50% of the rooms are filled and during the weekend, there was close to
100% occupancy.
The restaurant was nothing impressive. My
brother was on the verge of getting hypothermia so my mom bought him a hot
chocolate. Just to know I asked what was the price. My brother told me it cost
3.50$.
Concerned, I said, “That’s quite expensive.
But it’s okay since you’re so cold.”
Hearing that, my dad replied, “What do you
mean expensive? If the visitors are so cold like I am, I’d even pay 5.00$ for
that hot chocolate! And think about it, if you were that bartender, the hot
chocolate better make a lot of profit if you’re going to stand in this cold all
day!”
“True that.”
“Are we done now? Let’s go home.”
“Okay, let’s go home.”
And that concluded our outing in the icy
cold.
Never again.*
*That’s what I told myself last time I was
this cold but that adventure will be for another time.
