It has to be said that Toronto was a bit ho-hum. But Quebec! Wonderful. Absolutely alive, pulsating. My hotel (formerly a house built (in 1850s) by the Ursuline nuns whose convent is nearby, to rent out rooms for income) is in Vieux Quebec, the original walled city. Striking old buildings, castles, forts, houses dating from the 1600s, wonderful facades, all set to take advantage of the majestic St Laurence River. The bus driver yesterday (much better than the Niagara Falls driver, told us a wealth of history) pointed out that the name Quebec is an Indian word meaning “where the river narrows”. It was Charles Dickens who in 1842 dubbed Quebec “The Gibraltar of North America”. To control the waterway was to control the country, so Quebec is sited to prevent enemy incursion up the St Laurence to the Great Lakes. Hence all the ramparts and rows of canon, these days with children climbing all over them. As it turned out, it was not the defensive advantage, but the weather, that settled the Seven Years War in favour of the English (1759). Both French and British troops struggled and starved through a long cold winter, desperate for supplies and reinforcements from their home countries. (The Ursulines knitted socks for them) With Spring, it was the English ships which were first to sail into the Gulf of St Laurence, and New France became a British colony. The French decided to concentrate on the perceived richer pickings of the West Indies.
The hotel is called Marie-Rollet, named for the first woman to settle in New France with her family, in 1639. It is a very old building, with charming rooms filled with Queen Anne furniture. Bathrooms have been squeezed into the most unlikely places. As have air-conditioners. It has been hot, around 30 centigrade, occasioning much complaint from the locals. Yesterday the heat built up to a cracker of a storm which sent all the tourists scurrying.
Lots of walking. The optional mode of transport here is horse-drawn carriage, of which there are dozens. The smell of horses permeates the warm air. I have been very glad of my croc walking shoes. There are cafes everywhere, full of patrons under colourful umbrellas at every hour of the day. Flowers too – every building has window boxes and hanging gardens laden with colour.
Performing artists everywhere (and the Cirque de Soleil, in its home town, gives a free show every night ). Many seem to work to a schedule in public squares – magicians, trick bike riders, knife throwers and fire-eaters – charming the crowds with blatant flatteries. Musicians on almost every corner - I’ve seen a harpist, violinist, saxophonist, couple playing accordion and guitar, and a baby grand piano on a trailer. The trailer was being drawn behind a gaily painted bus called the Caravane des amoureux. Three of les amoureux were seated at the piano belting away (no discernible tune) as it paraded through the streets, the rest of les amoureux were dancing – some on top of the bus, some in the street – and beating drums or waving scarves in the amused faces of the onlookers. They were not asking for money, so presumably it was their philosophy of amour that they were promoting.
Churches everywhere. It is so very Catholic. All the street names are Saints names; my hotel is in Rue St-Anne. Around the corner is Rue St-Ursule, site of the huge Ursuline Convent. The Ursulines have been here since 1654. The school that used to be in the convent has been moved to more modern accommodations; perhaps the building will be turned into condos next.
My meanderings took me down the Rues des Ramparts to Le Marche de Vieux Quebec. It is very much like the Seattle Markets, but without the spectacular singing fish-throwing. The displays of fruit and vegies were so appealing I actually took photos – of vegies! Tasted cheese and bought some, tasted wine and bought some. A local wine, a white. The whites here, (and I have only tried a couple), are very gentle, without bite at all. I like a bit of bite. (The coffee on the other hand has too much bite, as mentioned previously)
Boutiques everywhere too. Many of them are peddling wares from elsewhere; but there are some with local products – one selling beautiful handmade lacework, tatting, guipure. Another with hats and coats – I need to spend a winter here, just to wear the hats.
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