Quebec City

Almost half a century ago I learned about the Plains of Abraham, how General Wolfe  defeated the French General Montcalm by a sneak predawn attack up the cliffs from the St Lawrence River below and despatched the French army in less than half an hour. The victory cost both generals their lives but Wolfe thus secured North America for britain. Three cheers!

I wanted to see the spot and I did. There was also a Martello Tower closed for some nefarious French reason, so I did not get the view I had hoped for. No matter.

There we were in this historic spot though I have to say there was no mention anywhere I could see about this historic French failure in Quebec. They keep the park looking nice but nowhere does the city talk about the Seven Years War and the crushing defeat of the French. Ho hum fiddle de dee.

The official Canadian government story is pretty bland: The site of many clashes for supremacy between the French and British Empires, the park is the scene of the 1759 Conquest, which changed the fate of North America. Apart from its historical past, the park is to Québec what Central Park and Hyde Park are to New York and London: a city park of outstanding value, the lungs of the city. One hundred and three hectares of meadow and grassy knolls, decked with flowers or covered with snow, are there for residents and visitors to enjoy.

Better this: LINK

Quebec City is quite small in the old town section and reminded me slightly of a  rather hilly New Orleans though cleaner and much more wholesome.

Rusty was not at all amused by the caleches, the touristy horse drawn carriages. He growled and hid when they clattered by.

Parking was metered by the spot, and the ticket was  only good for the numbered spot you entered on the machine. The good news is that wherever there is a blue numbered tag you can park, whether or not you speak French.

We went on a food walking tour after we dropped Rusty off at a hotel approved kennel. I was totally freaked out but Rusty didn't give a damn. Weird dog.

Our guide, above with the jersey over her shoulders, was an ex-United Nations peacekeeper who had taken up a retirement job and she was quite brisk and French and not apparently terribly chummy with Americans. At one point she looked at me and asked me if I lifted weights. An extraordinary question but she seemed quite pleased with herself when I said yes. I find humans unfathomable.

Then they suddenly produce striking street art, do humans.

The Ursuline chapel below was the home of the first batch of French nuns who came to North America to educate young women and  they still do it apparently:

We marched and munched across the city:

Not my idea of a hot day but it was for some people, around 80 degrees with occasional drizzle.

We visited seven places and had a snack here and a glass there including such weird stuff as salmon with maple syrup - quite good actually...

...and every kind of erable - maple product imaginable. 

And a museum dedicated to the product:

I am told large headsets are back in fashion, as dorky as they look, even on chic Francophone  Canadians.

Locals do eat poutine, in this case she was digging into a heap tarted up with bacon and other pig byproducts. Not proper poutine, then.

Much to our guide's disgust she had to give us a moment to try this famous tourist delicacy. It was filing, give it that:

I really wanted to try this place out on my own terms. Among other things they rent picnic baskets and you can buy  a bottle of wine to take with it. Brilliant. However the wife's gallbladder went south before we could execute this plan.

I wonder what she was thinking about, the decline of western civilization probably. I should have worn a suit and tie I expect but I was a slovenly tourist.

Not everyone was smartly dressed on the streets. ASt least my armpits were covered.

The chocolate factory got the phone cameras out...

Not an ugly citybut hey say it should be seen in the winter snows.

We never did get to walk the walls or check out the famous hotel, symbol of the city. Bugger.

Gratuitous dog picture to make up for boarding him for four hours. 

Toronto To Quebec

As places go the Province of Quebec isn't terribly geographically enticing. Much of it is covered in forests and agriculture, rolling plains not that different to the midwest frankly.

The goal of our large loop trip was to spend a few days in Quebec City visiting the only walled city in North America. To get there we left behind friends and relatives in Illinois and made our way to Toronto to visit moto blogger David Masse and his wife Susan who put us up in their delightful centrally located apartment. The visit was too brief as we always seem too ambitious on our vacations but we live so far from anywhere we have to keep moving if we were to get back to work in time.

I liked Toronto quite a lot even though I got to see but a tiny fraction of it. Yonge Street is a main drag and is lined by levels of buildings, little old ones in front rising to massive scrapers at the back, a beguiling mix of new and old.

This is Korea Town and full of fascinating little stores it was too. Rusty loved it.

I came across  a community garden where the neighbors grow food and sell it to benefit a local charity, keeping none for themselves. It seemed rather odd but noble.

 Parkview LINK

And so we bid sad farewells with a promise to return and got on the road. Minding our speed limits as 30mph (50km/h) over the limit can lead to vehicle confiscation.

It was boring stuff but we had to burn miles, even if they were Canadian ones. I told my wife my sisters used to prefer driving through Italy as opposed to England as they said the kilometers are shorter and pass more quickly than miles. After laughing initially my wife found herself agreeing as she struggled to navigate the blue line in metric measurements and discovered 300 kilometers pass faster than 200 miles...maybe. I grew up bilingual and I find the only metric measurements I can't grasp are heat. Tell me it's 28 degrees and it means nothing. Tell me it's 82 and I get it. I spoke to an old Canadian guy, a French speaker actually and he said he struggled with metric as he grew up using English measurements which is even more confusing as the British Imperial Gallon and pint are larger than their US equivalents. We live in transitory times and all is change.Next we stopped and had lunch in Kingston, the last stop in English speaking Canada, on the shore of the St Lawrence River.

A flamboyant City Hall (equipped with a public loo! Nice.).

Poutine: we investigated that peculiar Canadian dish in Quebec City, later.

 We tried modern Canadian cuisine and it was excellent, fish tacos and Turkish dumplings:

We pressed on to Gananoque, a town I don't know how to pronounce, across the river from Alexandria Bay, New York and we enjoyed  a glimpse of water and the Ten Thousand Islands in the stream:

We had a debate about the crown symbol for provincial highways in Ontario. I thought it looked like a birthday cake with a candle in it; my wife thought I was an idiot. Such was the conversation on the long straight highways toward Quebec City.

Dusk started to fall and we pulled over for a dinner on the road. Yeah, I know, Tim Horton's is a symbol but it was okay. Chicken salad with potato wedges served by a cheerful young woman happy to practice her English.

 It was a popular hang out it seemed like.

It looked  pretty much like anywhere USA, with slightly different labeling and so forth. Rusty liked the cool evening air.

We arrived in the evening and next morning when Rusty and I went out for our early morning walk the commute was as packed as you've seen it:

Our hotel was outside the city, a ten minute drive to the walls which we rather liked as it was modern and comfortable and not crowded into a space resembling Old Town in Key West. Rusty liked the industrial walks available.

I think the bicycle above was "usage" rather than new, and below I was in no mood to spoil myself with poutine even had they been open... 

 He had a blast and only gave me a moment's  panic when a nice young couple thought he was lost and nearly loaded him into their car. Bloody dog needs to be more leery of strangers...

And he didn't mind the attention he got in the lobby afterwards. Good dog.