There’s a certain magic in Old Montreal during Christmas. The cobblestone streets, reminiscent of the streets of Paris, seem to hold whispers of centuries past. It’s the kind of place that invites you to slow down for a while, rest, and notice all the small details around you: the frost on intricate iron railings, the street lanterns shining the way, the warm glow of lights spilling from cafe windows, and the muted crunch of footsteps in fresh snow. I loved being around French-speaking people, not having visited Europe for a while.

I arrived late in the afternoon, the sky already beginning to darken in the way it only does in winter, when daylight is fleeting but somehow feels more precious. The streets were alive with the muted bustle of holiday preparations. Shopkeepers were arranging displays of handmade ornaments and artisanal goods, while locals made last-minute Christmas arrangements.

I stayed in the heart of Old Montreal, at a boutique hotel with tall windows overlooking the historic streets. The room was simple but elegant - exposed brick walls, wooden beams, a beautiful Christmas tree, and a small fireplace that I lit each evening. This place was a gentle reminder of the comfort simplicity can bring.

Each day was a balance between exploration and stillness. Exploring the city felt like stepping into a storybook. The historic buildings looked almost ethereal under the twinkle of holiday lights. It was impossible not to feel a sense of awe standing there.

I wandered through the Marché Bonsecours, savoring the scent of roasted chestnuts and mulled wine. I found a tiny cafe tucked away on a side street. I enjoyed sitting there, reading a good book, watching snowflakes drift past the window, savoring delicious coffee, and letting the city’s charm envelop me.

Evenings in Old Montreal had their own kind of magic. The streets seemed to hold onto the day’s light, offering a soft glow that made the cold feel less biting. The food was rich and comforting. One night, a glass of red wine in hand, I found myself looking across the table and realizing how easy it is to feel comfortable in a place so far from home.

When it was time to leave, I felt the familiar bittersweet tug of saying goodbye to a place that had offered so much. But I also felt content and ready to be back home in Maine. Driving through the empty streets on a peaceful Sunday morning, I looked back at the old stone buildings one last time, their silhouettes softened by the gentle light. The memories gathered felt like tiny treasures.

Christmas in Old Montreal reminded me that often the most profound joy comes from the simplest moments. It’s in the glow of candlelight, the comfort of a shared meal, and the quiet peace of walking through a city that seems timeless. And as I made my way home, I carried that stillness with me.

All images below were taken with the Hasselblad 503CW and the Carl Zeiss Planar T* 2.8/80 on Kodak Portra 400.