A Shortened Entry

Phil's Street
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I just finished a wonderful telling of the trip to Quebec, well, wonderful in my opinion since it was all about our adventures, when I accidentally closed the window. Stupid browser, doesn't ask if you want to save, just, gone. I think from now on will type this somewhere else, then copy and paste it in. I didn't want to save and have it go public right away, before I'd corrected all my typos.

Well, I'll quickly re-cap what I wrote, though with much less detail and swashbuckling adventure.

In which I paraphrase another, better version of our Quebec trip

A typical Old Quebec street
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We did in fact make it to Quebec City, with only a little problem getting stuck in the snow when we got there. The city had been buried the night before by 15 inches of the stuff, so driving a small front wheeled drive pontiac without snow-tires or chains around the narrow, icy, winding, steep streets was probably not a great idea. "Why make it easy?" As the Samaritan who helped push us up the hill said in his Quebecois accent. Somehow we managed to wrestle the car into a parking space that my brother Phil had found for us without denting our, or anyone else's car. Phil and his roommate Mathieu's apartment in teh Rue S-Jean neighborhood is great, it has no right angles anywhere to be found, and as it is on the top of a tiny winding stairwell it has the feeling of a sturdy treehouse. Comfortable and spacious, we slept well after the 9 hour drive.

View from the walls, the St. Lawrence River
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The first day we went to photograph the Ice Hotel, which is exactly as is sounds. A hotel sculpted with great craftsmanship out of ice. It stays a constant 22º F inside, which is fine if you have a warm hotel to stay in after, but that's the point, you don't.

The rest of our weekend consisted of wandering the narrow twisting cobbled streets, and exploring courtyards behind 17th century churches. It constantly amazed me that we were in a North American city, so much did it look like Europe. In fact I might say that it was Europe, with a hint of Canadian flavor, unlike Montreal which was Canadian, with a hint of Europe. I particularly liked the town walls, with snug little guardhouses positioned over arched gateways. We visited our fare share of cozy, low ceilinged pubs and coffee houses, drank delicious local beers and frothy hot chocolate. We even treated ourselves to two delicious local drinks at the bar in the Chateau Frontenac, the looming medieval looking beast that dominates the city's skyline. We drank Sortilege, which is a maple whisky and was delicious, as was the Pomme de Glace, an iced apple cider. The view from the bar of the St. Lawrence, and the crackling fire, almost made it worth the small fortune we shelled out for these delicious drinks you can buy almost anywhere in town for half the price.

The Great Medieval Beast
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We had a great time resuscitating our French which was more than a little rusty. From much practice in the past though, I'm quite passable while ordering from the bar. Phil has been learning French for some time, and we were impressed with the ease in which he answered questions and generally got around town.

We took the Ferry across the frozen St. Lawrence almost purely to watch up close as the bow broke the ice with strange hissing sounds. Out on the ice we saw a team of canoers rowing, and then getting out and tugging their canoe across the frozen blocks. The idea of getting out of your canoe in the middle of a half-frozen river is mysterious, but I'm not Quebecois so I may never figure it out.

And, Monday night, we finally made it home. After another long, but this time uneventful 9 hour drive and our bed seemed the most comfortable place on earth. Too bad come September we'll have to wait a year to come back to it.