The chill of February numbs my face as I walk down Avenue des Pins in Montreal’s Plateau neighbourhood on my way to my French class. A small part of me is panicking, thinking about how I won’t be home for forty-eight hours: work, class, briefly crashing at my partner’s place and then work and class once more. I try to find comfort in the diminutive, compact architecture of the Plateau, the soft, warm light radiating from apartment windows as darkness gradually envelops the city. As I arrive at the intersection of Saint-Denis and Rachel, I am ambushed by a throng of people scrambling to gather pastries, flowers and wine. While an evening spent in an austere grey school building isn’t the sexiest Valentine’s Day plan, it does relieve me of the pressures of the holiday. 

My teacher has put a small bowl of chocolates on ...