Home

We are home and getting back into the groove of work, laundry, and not hearing French. Both of our flights were, amazingly, on time. We had to go through customs in Montreal before leaving, so that made arriving in the States that much easier. We had a not-so-bad layover in LaGuardia, although we had to leave the secure area and go back through security. This would not have been that much of a pain, since we (for some reason) had TSA pre-check, but I beeped when I went through the thingy and had to take off my boots anyway. The TSA chick said that I must have steel shanks in those boots. News to me. Dan got a special search (they checked his hands for something... food, maybe?) and he passed. He must look suspicious, because his backpack was checked when we left Memphis. I live and travel with a dangerous man.

We arrived in Memphis just ahead of a line of nasty thunderstorms. We could see the lightening from the plane. Beautiful and awesome and scary. If our plane had not been 30 minutes early, we would have been circling the airport for who knows how long. As it was, the wind made the descent a little shakier than was comfy, but the pilot - or co-pilot (who knows?) stuck the landing. I give them each a 10.

Here's a shot of the radar when we were coming in for the landing:

(Thanks, Andrew Allred, for the image. I stole this from your FB page.)

And now, it's time to plan the next adventure! :)

Currently in the underground of Montreal

The Canadians have this cold thing down. There's this underground that connects metro stops, has restaurants and shops, and allows people, at least in this area, to get around inside. Here's a couple of photos from where we sit:

We are waiting for a Lebanese restaurant to open at 11, at which time Dan is going to have the stinkiest meal in the world: poutine made with garlic potatoes with shish touk and/or shawarma on top. Those of you in Memphis may be able to smell us as we come in for the landing tonight. The folks on the plane will. 

Update: No poutine, alas, but we ran across a place called Rueben's, known for their smoked meats. Here, the smoked meat is thinly sliced corned beef.  We had a skillet that was basically potatoes covered with the ingredients for a Rueben sandwich sans dressing and bread, topped with two eggs. 

I was not sure about sauerkraut for brunch, but it was all delicious. As a bonus, I received a lesson from our server in cursing. Apparently, "merde" (shit) covers it all. I inquired about how to say "f***," and the guy said "merde." However, here in Canada, they also use exclamations using church-related words, such as "tabernacle" or "taberbac," "sacre," and "calisse" (chalice). Interesting, n'est pas?

Back to Montreal

We are heading back to Montreal via train. It's really quite a civilized way to travel. This train is not quite as nice as the one that brought us to Quebec in that there are four seats across instead of three. However, compared to tomorrow's travel on a plane, this is luxury. The trains here, like those in Europe, seem to travel on time. They do not play about departure times. Arrival times seem a little more fluid if, say, your train has to move to a side rail so that another train can pass. You can see the train car here - and this is the economy car. It's quite roomy and there is wireless - gratuit!

We spent the morning packing. We talk about getting larger suitcase, but then we would go over the weight limit. Here's a way to save room in your lugggage, if you are traveling to Quebec in the late winter: don't bother bringing sweaters. The Québécois love running the heat (except in the ice hotel), so you may as well just bundle up for outside and be ready to shed it inside.  Many people wear short sleeves while inside. I'm guessing that the air was set to at least 76F in most places. Anyway, we got the suitcases and backpacks closed but just barely. I am grateful for the $8 ziplocks, which helps us reduce the bulk of the sweaters that we did not wear. 

Another thing, which I do not think we've pointed out yet and was new to us southerners: one sheds one's boots before one enters a dwelling. We've seen special trays set out as well as people just leaving them on carpeting. Two things I learned from this: pack slippers, so that you don't have to run around in your stocking feet, and do not store your shoes with your laces underneath them. This results in wet, salty laces which are yucky to lace up. 

I have to say that renting an apartment or condo is much preferred to staying in a B&B or a hotel. We had room to spread out and to have our own space for reading, etc. We had a washer and dryer, which came in handy, since we had to wear the same clothes several times and not the sweaters that we brought, and there was a small kitchen, had we wanted to cook - which we did not. We bartered staying an extra hour after checkout for washing the sheets and towels (to save them time cleaning), which saved us from having to sit in the train station. Before we left, we hit the marche de Vieux Québec again to purchase croissant, cheese, smoked salmon, and a baguette for lunch and buerre d'erable (maple butter) to haul back to Memphis. Dan also bought some maple sap, as it comes from the tree, since he regretted not trying any yesterday at the Cabane á Sucre. It was good - light and just a little sweet. 

Now in Montreal and in for the night.  For some reason, Dan wanted to go to a restaurant that is pitch black. So we did.  It's called O Noir (noir means black or night - or, as I translate it: shit!) and we arrived  to be greated by our hostess, who took our order and called for our server, Fey. All of the servers are visually impaired, and they lead the customers into a completely pitch black (like put-your-hand-in-front-of-your-face-but-don't-see-shit pitch black) room, where you are seated and the table layout is described.  ("In front of you, you can feel the placemat. Your knife is on the right, and on the left you will feel two forks. The bread plate is in the middle, and your drinks are just at the tip of the knife.") All around us, we could hear conversations in French and in English, but the chatter sounded like a cacophony. It grew louder with more people, of course. They can serve 60, but it sounded like there were 160. 

Our first course was interesting. I had a beet and goat cheese salad, which I was a little nervous about eating. I imagined leaving the restaurant covered in beet spatters, but I escaped unscathed. I credit this to eating most of the meal with my fingers. That was the only way I knew what was going into my mouth. I tried using the fork but it's a little unwieldy to do that without knowing how much is actually on your fork.  Here's how the salad looked:

Dan had trout gravlax. I'll let him tell you about it. (Dan - it's just trout (usually salmon) that is cured in salt and sugar, and, in this case, gin.) It was somewhere in front of me and I ate it. It looked something like this, only better:

For our entrees, we both had a delicious shrimp plate with what tasted and felt like lentils, some julienne something that was pickled or had a dressing, three huge shrimp (without tails or heads, thank goodness), and some goopy something.  (Dan - the julienned something was cucumber, the goopy something was avocado and black beans. At least that is what the menu said, before we entered the dining black box.)

Here's a photo:

(Dan - for that matter, here is how nice VIcki looked during dinner:)

Here's what I learned during my blind meal. I don't know how blind people do it. There's too much noise in the world. I am glad that no one could see me eating because I'm pretty sure that I must have l looked like a barbarian. I get bored when I can't look around me and see what other people are doing. I don't like not being able to see Dan. But I'm not at all self-conscious about what I look like, or whether I was holding in my stomach or sitting up straight or picking my nose. (I didn't, just FYI, but I could have and no one other than me would had known.)  It did strike me that they may have an infrared camera installed that would product a video that would then be blackmail material. But since I didn't pick my nose I figured that I had nothing Ito worry about. 

Dan - I agree with VIcki. It is amazing how much we typically people watch during a meal. Here, it was hard to even eavesdrop, because there are multiple French conversations going on around you. And you take conversational cues from seeing the people you are with - but you can't see them, so it doesn't matter. As for how I ate, I kept getting lower and lower over my plate. I also spent a lot of time scraping the plate to be sure I got it all - before sticking my finger on the plate to be sure. There are little things you think of, like the fact that my glasses were completely superfluous, that I had no way to gauge the speed I drank a cocktail - or even if I had the amount I ordered. We did not need to worry about a dress code - until we walked back into the light. The first thing I did was check my shirt to be sure I hadn't made a big mess. Definitely a meal to remember. 

Dan - I'll also mention that we Ubered twice here - and it is illegal in Montreal. We got good drivers and less expensive rides, but learned from the first guy that they always know American tourists, because they hop in the back. To make it less obvious that you are getting an illegal ride, someone should sit up front with the driver to make it less obvious that you are Ubering.

Tomorrow, we return home. It's been a great week.

The last day in Quebec

Our last day in Quebec was mostly outside of Quebec. We rented a car and headed to l'Ile d'Orléans, the island in the middle of the St. Lawrence river. It is supposedly the home of the oldest French families in North America. It was beautiful, and it was a beautiful day, so the drive was pleasant, and we found some good things to eat. 

The traditional Québécois house has a red or blue roof, which looks pretty awesome against the white snow.

One of our stops was at a Cabane a Sucre - a sugar shack - where they make maple syrup and other products. The folks at this one were great. A young woman gave us a tour of the process, and she was given prompts by the owner of the place. He was one of 12 siblings, and this operation is now in its fourth generation. 

This particular operation is done the old-fashioned way, by driving a short tap through the bark and hanging a bucket under it. The whole family spends 2 hours each day during the maple season collecting buckets full of sap. They are collected one at a time. In other operations, the taps are attached to tubing, which collects the sap and drains to a central collection spot. 

Our driver, the owner, and our muscle, his horse. They gave us a tour of the maple trees, most of which had buckets attached. In the stillness, you could hear the sap drip into the buckets. Vicki asked how long it took for a bucket to fill, and the owner said that it was up to God. Maple season occurs when the nighttime temperature is below freezing and the daytime temperature is above freezing. It is only then that the sap rises from the roots and can be tapped. 

This guy was fiercely proud of what he has accomplished and the land he owns. He told me there was no amount of money that anyone could offer for his land. 

This cabin was one his grandfather built, and where a family actually lived. It was tiny.

So we drove all the way around the island, and, of course, we worked up an appetite. We had been told this particular Auberge would be serving lunch, but when we got there, we were told that they would open for dinner later on. However, she shortly added, "All I have to offer is soup and crême brûlée." Say no more - she showed us into the empty dining room, and we were given a butternut squash soup that was killer, served with bread and beverages, then a chocolate crême brûlée.

It was a wonderful meal with an incredible view of the river.

The St. Lawrence River is a tidal river, so it flows two ways. It's quite a confusing thing to see. When we were at lunch, we could see part of the river (furthest from us) flowing toward the ocean and another part (closer to us) flowing inland. You can see it on the video; watch how the waters through the fence move a different direction from the ones further out. 

https://youtu.be/l4tQuTY9fH0

After lunch, we left the island to head to the Hôtel de Glacé, or Ice Castle. Historically, during the Carnaval, an ice castle is built against the fortifications of Quebec. This has been going on for hundreds of years. But about 16 years ago, a businessman decided that he would build a massive ice castle outside of town. Each year, they rebuild this from snow and ice for a January opening, and each year, around the end of March, they bulldoze it.

This is the ice chapel - there will be 3 weddings held in here tomorrow.

This is one of the panels of ice blocks. At night, the light from the inside is visible.

There are multiple ice columns, sculptures, and carvings inside, which stays at a constant 32 degrees.

A mermaid....

One of the bedrooms is shown below. Yes, about 100 people sleep here each night, paying $200 and up for the privilege. You get a very warm sleeping bag, but it is basically ice camping. 

Every room is decorated differently. Some have a fireplace in them, and some have access to hot tubs and a sauna outside.

A bear and his fish dinner.

That same panel above, from the inside.

One of the carvings over the bar.

Below are ice glasses on the bar. They mix your cocktails and serve them in these. Needless to say, you need gloves. Definitely in the rocks, rather than on them.

I am up for a night here, but I will have to do it alone, because Vicki won't be with me!

Driving back to Quebec, we stopped at a grocery for ziplock ($8!!!) so that we can vacuum-pack some clothes to make room for booze. :) We also stopped for bubble wrap (for said booze). Heading back into Quebec, our map voice at one point told us to turn left on "Rue Dooky," aka Rue du Quay. Silly American navigation voices. 

Back in Québec, we had one last dinner at our favorite place, Café St. Malo. Vicki sticks with what she knows and loves - French onion soup and the warm goat cheese salad - but there are things that I haven't tried yet, so I ordered appetizers - four of them. The server is amused.

Salmon tartare...

escargots...

A sideways photo of smoked salmon, and 

And grilled blood sausage.

I am quite content. 

Tomorrow, we take the train back to Montreal, where we will have dinner at O Noir, a restaurant that has service in complete darkness. We will not have food photos.

Thursday

Alors. Today was the warmest day we've had so far. It was 34F when we left this morning, headed to the upper town to see what there is to see related to the siege of Quebec during the Seven Years War. Let me just say that getting on top of the bluffs changed the wind chill significantly. It was tres cold up there. I now see why battles here are not fought in the winter. 

We learned new things about the battles of Quebec, including the fact that one French dude let a whole boatload (in fact, several boatloads) of British soldiers by because after he asked who it was, a British guy who spoke very good French yelled "provisions." Now I hate to be all judgey-judgey, but it seems a little stupid to me. If you are in a war, wouldn't you need to be a little more careful about who you let by a river checkpoint? What happened was that those boatloads landed and climbed up the bluffs to approach the city from the west, resulting in a battle during which the French lost. C'est dommage for the poor schmuck who was standing guard that night. 

We walked to see the Plains of Abraham, where the British creamed the French after said schmuck let them past, and all I can say is that I was moved by how freaking cold it was. I understand that folks have to pitch camp and build their fortresses up where they can see the enemy coming, but Jesus Christ! It would be miserable to be stationed there. Great view, but so cold!

I'll turn it over to Dan, who I'm sure had a much less cynical point of view about the poor French folks. Plus, he has photos. 

Dan - 

Dan has one photo from this day - only one. This is a panorama shot of the Saint Lawrence river from the Plains of Abraham. 

All that white stuff in the water is ice, and the quantity changes as the tide does. I thought I was just stupid at first, but no, the ice will be headed one way at one point of the day and then the opposite way at another time. Messes with your head. 

No food has been mentioned yet. Today was not especially notable, food wise. I tried eggs Benedict with smoked meat for breakfast and a Québécois shepherd's pie at lunch. Neither stood out as remarkable. DInner was rabbit with mustard sauce. Since Vicki doesn't eat cute animals, she had undercooked cod. Mine was delicious, hers not.  We will make up for bad meals tomorrow. 

One more shot - and Vicki snapped it. Lots of public art and statues here. This is a mural ion Lower Town, near our dinner spot. Pretty cool.

A bientôt!

Wednesday in Vieux Quebec

Wedneday began with a forecast of rain, so we made plans early to hit the old market for a few items so we could stay in for dinner. We bought 2 Québécois cheeses (one curiously named Le Verdict d'Alexina? It was made from the milk of cow, goat, and ewe. The other was - scandalously - non-pasteurized. And yet, we live. We also found French bread, smoked maple salmon, smoked mussels, and meringues for dessert. We found a bottle of sparkling cider to join all that. It was a feast. 

Back to the market - I was wandering around, looking in cases, and saw this. A refrigerated case is probably not the best place to keep your guitar. 

As said in yesterday's post, we found a Provençal restaurant last night to which we returned today for a wonderful lunch. Tourist season has slowed, and not only do we get great service, but we get to chat it up with the server/owner/chef at hand. 

I am loving this cold. As I have told many, I would much rather deal with this than a MEMPHIS summer.

I also love what the ice does to things, especially here where it sometimes seems to defy gravity. 

See - these icicles are all leaning the same way.

And, although you can't see it as well here, these all lean to the rear.

This is a light at the Chateau Frontenac.

And this wins the funkiest icicle prize.

This is Samuel de Champlain, the French explorer dude who founded New France and Quebec (maybe 1608?). He is deceased now, just for the record.  

Let it not be said that Vicki won't get back on the horse. This is the very spot where she fell and bounced her head off the wall. There are cracks in the wall - just sayin'.

The rest of the day was spent wandering the streets until the rain started. We retreated to our condo and had a cozy afternoon, then a cozy dinner. 

Vicki: Okay - now it's my turn. Those freakin' cracks were there long before my sweet little head hit that wall. The cracks on the sidewalk may be another story. 

Dan didn't mention that before we hit the market, we found a lovely place with Nutella croissant and bowls of cafe au lait. I don't remember being served coffee in bowls before coming to Quebec, although Dan is sure that he's had it before. He just can't remember where or when. The dude that served us must have been our age, wore a Hawaiian shirt, and had a ponytail down to his waist. 

And I would like to say that I don't know when or why prohibition America left the custom of having a glass of wine or beer with lunch, but it's quite civilized. 

Apres lunch, we strolled around, ending up in the upper town of Vieux Quebec. Dan made a friend. 

And I took a photo from the top of the funicular, an up-the-mountain elevator. This is the St. Lawrence River, flowing with much less ice today. 

The high tomorrow is supposed to be 36F, so we plan to put on shorts and walk the town some more. We will hit the Plains of Abraham, where the "Anglos" beat the French after a 3-month siege of Quebec during the Seven Years' War (known to us U.S. folk as the French & Indian War). On Friday, we are renting a car to head out to the Ile de Orleans, where maple farms, vineyards, and orchards await. We I'll also see the Hotel de Glace, where you can (but we will not) sleep on a bed sculpted out of ice. Just to be on the safe side, I'm going to make sure that I pee before we get there. 

Another day in Quebec

Today began with another tour. The minibus was to pick us up at 9:30 in front of Le Musée de la Civilisation and was to be 4 1/2 hours long. 

(Vicki here. 

At one point, when we were waiting for the tour bus, this pulled up:

My first thought was, "oh, no, he didn't!" - wondering if my sweet husband had lost his mind and booked a tour on a school bus. But then, thankfully, out came little children a la Québécois, about the age of our little neighbor, Charlie. They were all bundled up like little nanooks, with their little touks and mittens. So cute. 

Now, back to Dan.)

This tour was across the St. Lawrence from Quebec City. This was one I had especially looked forward to and one I wanted to share with Vicki. I brought a dozen or so CBHS French students up here in the late eighties and some of my best memories were associated with this tour.

Memories play tricks. 

Our first stop was Montmorency Falls, 83 meters high - which is, our guide was quick to point out, 30 meters higher than Niagara Falls. The view from the top of the falls was brilliantly white - you are looking here at frozen water, both under the bridge and in the foreground. All the water of the falls flows under all this ice and snow.

Warning sign on the trail. The fourth warning isn't quite serious enough. "Chute" means falling in this context. Falling icicles is pretty clear - you can die from being impaled by one. But the snow one makes it look like those are pretty little flakes floating slowly to settle upon your shoulders. What that intends to tell you is that any amount from a snowball to a dump truck full could land on your head at any minute, leaving you with a wet neck at a minimum or sweeping you off the mountainside in an avalanche at worst. In town, there are such signs along the sidewalk, because hundreds of pounds of snow on roofs in Quebec gain sentience at some point and, lemming like, slide off collectively with the aim of burying you on the sidewalk. Then the snowplow comes along, scoops you up, and deposits you in a snow bank where you will not thaw out until late spring. 

Over the falls is a suspension bridge, here beautified by the lovely Vicki Murrell.

More of the bridge. I can't post videos on this blog, but I can give you links to videos I took. The photos have no depth to them, so a video is the only way I can show you what the falls look like from above: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1fUpJxFEm78 & http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a7oxDFdn7iM 

The graffiti artists that got out on this ledge to share OMG were nuts. 

This is how the falls look from near the highway....

...and a little closer. 

A bit further down the road, we went on l'Ile d'Orléans, an island about 5 miles by 21 miles in the Saint Lawrence, reachable by car by only one bridge. It is reachable by boat, or when everything freezes, there are places that you can walk across the river. We had an opportunity to shoot the city from the island.

One of the the things we did was visit Chez Marie. They have been baking bread for years, and tour buses have stopped by for years for homemade bread with maple butter. Back on my trip in the eighties, we stopped at some place like this and had hot, fresh bread that dripped with maple butter. It was heaven. My memories were promptly squashed by a commercialized stop where we got room temp bread, not particularly good, with maple "spread" that was now made with oil and other extenders. I apologized to Vicki for the build up and pouted on the bus.

A lot of the homes on the island have root cellars like this one. The temp is a constant 5 degrees Celsius (41 F) regardless of the temp outside.

The final stop of our tour was Sainte-Anne-de-Beaupré, both a town and the name of its Basilica. 

This is Sainte Anne in gold. 

The Catholic Church credits this Basilica with many miracles of curling the sick and disabled. These items have been left behind.

And this area is dedicated to St. John Baptiste de la Salle, French priest, educational reformer, and founder of the Institute of the Brothers of the Christian Schools. He is a saint and, more specifically, the patron saint of teachers. All of my CBHS students know this, especially those who came on this trip. 

These are deadly icicles at the Basilica without a warning sign. 

So we finished the tour, and, because we had not eaten all day, headed off to Aux Anciens Canadiens, a well-known restaurant near the Chateau Frontenac. I would not have thought we could ever afford to eat there, but 1. I would have gone anywhere at that point, and 2. Our guide had clued us in on a special lunch menu. The highlight of my meal was escargots. 

Also at this meal, we had our third or fourth political discussion with a Canadian, who are not afraid to boring the topic up. In general, we have found that Canadians are generally well-informed about our history, our political system, and our candidates, whereas many Americans remain unsure of who Joe Biden is or what happened in 1776. We have also found them to be incredulous that Trump is running and winning, and many have asked if there are really Americans investigating a move to Canada if he should win.

On leaving the restaurant, we made it around the corner, where Vicki slipped on an icy patch and banged her head against the building. There were a couple of nice folks who stopped to see how she was and ask if she needed to go to the hospital, but she soldiered on. However, we quit for the afternoon. 

After some recuperation time, we wandered down our quiet back street to a French restaurant where we were the only customers. We only wanted dessert and a beverage, but also had a nice conversation with the owner, who was French. I had a creme brûlée with pastis that was wonderful and Vicki tried another sugar pie. We are becoming coinnesseurs of sugar pie, noting the textures vary as well as the taste. But we haven't sent one back yet. 

And looking ahead, we now know where we will have lunch tomorrow. I'm always keeping an eye out for that next good meal.