Each morning started the same. A breakfast of sangak, watermelon, cucumber and a hard boiled egg in the sparsely populated hotel dining room while being serenaded by Leonard Cohen. Well, not Leonard himself, but a playlist of Leonard’s music being piped through the speakers suspended in the corners of the dining room ceiling. Not to diminish the notoriety of our Canadian legend and the international span of his influence— I was surprised to hear the distinct voice of Leonard Cohen during breakfast in Isfahan, Iran!

Over the last 6 years as I embarked on a new personal chapter of my life, I routinely run into my friend and counsel, Leonard, in the most random of places, familiar in the unfamiliar.

I first heard the music of Leonard Cohen around 1991 during my freshman year of university. This happened to coincide with the release of Leonard’s song Closing Time with the perfect lyrics to rally up sing-alongs of freshman students in those wee hours of the morning before the bar closed:

Ah we're drinking and we're dancing

And the band is really happening

And the Johnny Walker wisdom running high

I enjoyed that song and subsequently bought the cassette of Leonard’s The Future album, it was his 9th, but my 1st. I remember the case with the album art of a hummingbird, a blue heart and handcuffs it was my introduction to Leonard, I was 18 and hadn’t heard of our iconic Canadian poet / songwriter before. The cassette soon became one of my favourites and I became a devoted Cohen fan. That voice, dripping with wisdom, sex, passion and melancholy—truth be told, I would have paid to listen to Leonard read the newspaper.

Later in university in an anthropology elective on “Love” I read Leonard’s 1963 pseudo autobiography, The Favourite Game- where the favourite game was love. A subject that Leonard was very familiar with. From then on, Leonard has been a constant in my life, whilst playing his Anthem during a particular difficult time in my life, it became my anthem;

Ring the bells (ring the bells) that still can ring

Forget your perfect offering

There is a crack in everything (there is a crack in everything)

That's how the light gets in

I had faith in that song; darkness, hope, resurrection, repentance, I had faith in Leonard.

Over the years, I’ve downloaded and listened to his new albums, re-visited old albums, played repeatedly his live albums (London 2009), read Cohen biographies and most recently his final work, The Flame, released in 2018 two years after his death. The span of Leonard Cohen’s work and its reach is vast and endless.

Hearing the music of my fellow canuck or having conversations with strangers about Leonard has been quite uncanny and constant on my travels.

While travelling in Russia, having just finished Amor Towles’ novel A Gentleman in Moscow, there was no question that while in Moscow, I would be staying at the Metropol Hotel. Built in 1905 the Metropol has always been associated with luxury, opulent service and was the first hotel in Moscow with the modern conveniences of electricity and hot water. Located across the street from the Bolshoi Theatre and a two minute walk to the Kremlin, it was a popular hotel for the wealthy travellers and the political elite. Towles’ fictional novel takes place after the Russian Revolution in 1917, which is the year when the Metropol became the residence for the Boshevik Party. It was during that time that the central restaurant, the “Metropol Hall” became a meeting hall where speeches from the likes of Lenin and Trotsky were delivered.

Metropol Hall in Moscow—a fine location for a gentleman.

The Metropol became a hotel again in 1931 and returned to its reputation of a luxurious hotel but with the historical intrigue and a cloaked veil of mystery and romance that Towles perfectly depicted in his novel.

But why this side bar history lesson about the Metropol Hotel, what about Leonard?

In 1931, the Metropol Hall was also restored to its former glory as an iconic restaurant epitomizing grandeur with its marble fountain, stained-glass dome, and glittering gold ambience provide the perfect venue for weddings or breakfast. The latter was my indulgence, a breakfast of champagne, caviar, cheeses, salmon with the musical accompaniment of a harpist, plucking her strings to the songs of Leonard Cohen— the definitive gentleman in Moscow.

You may be thinking that perhaps Leonard Cohen only makes an appearance in these foreign lands over the breakfast hour. I wondered as much myself, until listening to the outdoor evening performance of the young Cuban violinist with a broad repertoire and significant talent, ending his performance with Hallelujah in the town of Varadero. Then there was there was the man from Tipperary who initiated a conversation about Leonard in the air on route from Ireland to Iceland; and the market vendor in Hilo, Hawaii who proclaimed that for a brief period of time she was once Leonard’s lover (I know, dear reader, you are doubting this, but it was so random that I had no reason to doubt her, she seemed to fit the profile of Leonard’s lovers, an enviable history in that regard).

What’s strange is that I’ve never noticed this with other artists, no matter the mass appeal, be it the Beatles, U2, Queen, Adele, the Rolling Stones it’s none other than Leonard whose music literally transcends borders. His lyrics are universal; love, longing, hope, despair— his poetry, so eloquent, articulating those feelings you only wished you had the words to express.

While recently traveling in Montreal there was no question about an encounter with Leonard, and in fact on this destination I sought him out. The city exudes the omnipresent of Leonard and I followed in his footsteps to his favourite restaurants, bagel shops, and a neighbourhood park.

Then standing in the shadow of the commemorative 10,000 square foot mural of Leonard rising 21 storeys above the city. I paid a silent tribute to this legendary artist, my travelling companion and wondered where we’d be meeting next.