How We Are Spending Our Kids' Inheritance: Travel to Quebec

Today is Sunday and later today we will head to Quebec City. Montreal is fun, but it is, to me, just a big city - even though it is the second largest French speaking city in the world.

We had breakfast at the B&B, prepared by Robert, who, as it turns out, was in the nonprofit community up here for years, even in development work. After breakfast, we got dressed for the cold and headed out to Old Montreal. Cold, it seems, is a relative term. I came prepared for bone-chilling temps - they were negative temperatures, after all - and I had lined pants, multiplie layers, etc. But the reality is that it isn't so bad. And when businesses, buses, etc. all have the temp in the upper sixties, you cook when you walk in. So now I have trimmed down what I wear and wish I had one less sweater to pack. I had to kneel on my suitcase, not in prayer, but in an effort to get it to compress. And hope that it didn't explode at some point, like a giant silver water balloon. The shrapnel from my suitcase would have maimed hundreds in the train station, it if had blown.

So we wandered down into Old Montreal, checking out the ice skaters, the old clock tower (below), and the frozen marina (also below).

By then, at least 30 minutes had passed since our last meal, so we wandered into a patisserie/coffee shop (patisserie is French for pastry made with more butter than its total weight). We got sufficient sustenance in the form of cookies and a croissant, got two Croque Monsieurs for the train, and headed back to check out.

The train was as we hoped - on time and comfortable. Around 4 hours later, we pulled into Quebec CIty. My first reaction, not knowing where our condo was, was to call Uber or a cab, but Vicki put an end to that and we headed down the road. Some guy pulled up beside me and asked where some building was, I laughed and told him I was from the states and had no clue. When I caught up with Vicki, I told her about the doofus who had asked the dumb tourist with a suitcase and backpack where something was. How stupid is that?

Well, about 100 yards later, we find the condo and the same guy is out front - the doofus had the keys to our condo and had been trying to find out if that was where we were headed, and perhaps offer a ride. So he takes us in, all the while explaining how bad his English is, how good his wife's English is, and if we want anything, to give him a call.

We did a little research and digging and hit Le Cafe St. Malo for dinner. It was like being in France.

Small, intimate - almost like the waiter is staring a secret with you. And it was pretty damned good:

I had a pate made with a hint of orange

And a cassoulet:

VIcki chose the French Onion soup and a warmed goat cheese salad.

It was a wonderful meal. I'd be very surprised if we didn't have at least one other meal here later.

We have a nice condo for the week. I don't know what this is yet, but this is a shot from the living room window. Regardless of what I said earlier, it is cold if you open the windows to take a photo.

Vicki here. Let me, in my own defense, say that it seems stupid to take a ride when the destination is only a few meters away. Of course, schlepping luggage in the cinder-infused slush is probably not the brightest choice.

About our dinner: into this small restaurant, where Eric (the server) prepared a hot spiced wine for me, to help me combat a sinus thing, and where Dan tried some gin that's special to Quebec but looked like pee, came a crew of 12 - without reservations. Thankfully, we were at the end of the meal, because with only one chef and one server, it was going to be late before that party was done. Eric was amazed that someone would walk into a restaurant with that many people and without reservations. I was, too.

Here are my photo contributions of the day: