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.