Recently in Quebec Category

I took over 60 pictures today, and had a tough time wittling that down to a somewhat reasonable number for this entry.

My brother and I started the day by taking a closer look at paintings underneath a nearby freeway interchange. While some of the art was commissioned by the city of Québec, other paintings were graffiti. Interestingly, none of the officially-sanctioned work had any graffiti on it…there seems to be a mutual respect among artists.

Cathedral and sharks
Escheresque fantasy
Detail of knight in shining armor and somewhat aloof damsel
Nationalist graffiti?
Egyptian theme
Detail from Egyptian mural
Portait

We then went back to Vieux-Québec for a last day of exploration. We still ran into surprises in odd places.

For lunch, we fulfilled one of my secret wishes for the trip. I've always wanted to sit outdoors at a restaurant or café and order (in French) a steak-frites. It's been an ambition since I first read about steak-frites in French 2, way back in junior high. So we did. It took forever finding a place with outdoor seats: while many restaurants have them for dinner, only a handful have them for lunch. We finally found Pub Saint-Alexandre and ordered a delicious lunch. The fries were soft and flavorful, with just the right amount of crunch. The steak was grilled perfectly and doused in delicious peppercorn sauce. I'm drooling just thinking about this. We did some last minute souvenir-shopping together, and then split up.

I went by the waterfront below Chateau Frontenac, and caught another show of performing artists, this time a couple who tangoed together…and then expressed their love for each other by engaging in an activity they both enjoy; that is, having the gentleman jump through a hoop of fire and daggers which happens to be balanced on the lady's tummy. Wow.

2:52pm update: Due to interruptions related to a 5:50am departure time from Québec, this entry was completed in Québec's airport, and on the flight from Toronto to San Francisco. I took a last walk down my favorite street in Vieux-Québec. It's a narrow cobbled road open only to pedestrians. On one side of the street are shops, restaurants, and hotels. The restaurants have outdoor seating cheerfully decorated with vibrant flowers. On the other side of the street, artists set up booths, offering to draw portraits of passersby and showcasing their talents with the likenesses of Tom Cruise and Jodie Foster. Musicians also set up shop, serenading couples seated at tables with flutes and violins. I first found the street following the sound of a flute playing a familiar movie tune.

After my close encounter with odd-looking locals yesterday, it seemed appropriate that today I would meet four out-of-towners who seemed a bit disoriented. They were definitely not from these parts, and garnered an interesting reaction, particularly from children. Some cried, others scurried to safety behind their mothers. But a few seemed to take to the unusual visitors, communicating in spite of a colossal language difference. In fact, many children laughed gleefully when they were encircled by the aliens, clearly unaware that they were participating in a failed attempt at teleportation. As I drew closer to the visitors, one noticed the camera I was pointing in his direction. He approached with apprehension and curiosity, so I showed him that the camera was pretty harmless. He quickly lost interest and continued in his group's odd procession down the street, inviting others to join in.

We had our last dinner at Restaurant Omelette, which specializes in, believe it or not, omelettes. I went for the roast chicken plate instead. Our window seat gave us a nice view of the street. I took in the sounds of the night, lingering impressions of the last few days here: the clip-clop of hooves on cobblestone, music rising from Scène Bell, a chorus of voices from the pub next door singing a more traditional version of Guantanamera than the one Wyclef sang a few nights ago. The moment was bittersweet. I'd met my first secret wish, but not my second: four whole days in Canada, and I had not heard a single person finish a sentence with "eh." I think I'll have to come back.

We went to have lunch at Chute Montmorency, a waterfall on the outskirts of Québec that's supposed to be even higher than Niagra Falls. Getting there involved an hour-long bus ride through the suburbs. On arrival, I was a little underwhelmed…I guess I was expecting more water. You can almost see my disappointment. However, on seeing that you could get up real close to the falls, I got up as close as I could. Too close. Way too close. I was surprised at the amount of spray…it looks misty from above, but down below it's like being in a bad rain storm. Still, it was exhilarating. On the way back uphill, I had a close encounter with a local.

Afterwards, we went to a local mall, Place Laurier, which is supposed to be the largest mall in Eastern Canada. Oddly, it closes at 5:30pm, and we arrived at 4:45pm, so we really didn't see much of it. On the bus, I had my first kinda real French conversation, with a couple skater teens. They seemed impressed when I told them that I live a couple miles from Papa Roach's hometown.

We went back to wandering through Vieux-Québec after a brief rest at the hotel. It was overcast today, but the city is still beautiful, and the horses are still…horses. Yeah. The old city really starts to wake up in the early evening, as festival workers close off streets to cars, allowing throngs of pedestrians to walk unhindered through the streets. Street musicians appear in the most unlikely places, in this case, in the entrance of a bookstore. I finally tried gelato for the first time, (pistachio…mmm), and was a little surprised when the girl at the counter greeted me in English. I have no idea how she could pick me out as an English-speaking tourist—I didn't speak English in the shop, have no English words on my clothes (other than the ubiquitous "Nike Air" on my shoes), and even spoke in French. A little alarmed, my brother and I tried our best to look like locals.

Speaking of locals, we saw an odd-looking group in a procession drawing a crowd. They seemed a little out there, but they were friendly in a non-speaking, non-smiling, blue-skinned sort of way (I just know that picture is gonna haunt me one day). Really friendly.

We returned to the hotel, where my mom started finishing up on the talk she's giving tomorrow. My brother and I were gonna go hang out together, but he had trouble getting up from the oh-so-comfy hotel bed, so I went solo.

I swung by the highly-hyped concert of the evening, Ariane Moffat, a Canadian pop-rock artist. I stayed for all of 30 seconds before swinging by Scéne Bell, where Wyclef Jean rocked the house last night with an estimated 50,000 fans (including yours truly). Tonight, it was "Helmut Lotti and Friends." Mr. Lotti is some sort of classical singer who does elaborate covers of classic love songs as well. I was getting good vibes as he finished off "Battle Hymn of the Republic" while I approached the show, but then he launched into an operatic rendition of "You've Lost that Loving Feelin'," and I started getting queasy. Looking around, I noticed a stark difference in the audience from yesterday's show. Whereas yesterday's show was a bunch of twenty-somethings standing for a two-hour set, tonight the median age was a good 30 years higher, and everyone brought lawn chairs.

I was about to make my exit when Mr. Lotti invited (I kid you not) the Red Army Choir on stage. Yes, that's the same Red Army Choir on the soundtrack for Hunt for Red October. I could almost stand Mr. Lotti singing the official hymn of the Russian navy since he had the Red Army Choir singing back-ups. Then they did what I'm presuming were Russian drinking songs, and a French ballad for the home crowd, before launching into a stirring rendition of the Russian national anthem. Mr. Lotti then broke for a 25 minute break, and I left, not really intending to come back.

I wandered for a bit, taking a picture of one of the city gates before the sound of jazzy saxophones floated in my direction. I followed the music, accompanied by a crowd of others in a modern Pied Piper procession. The musicians stopped, and I got my first look at them: a quartet of sax players (yeah, I missed one). They put on an incredible show in the street, serenading people at cafés, and doing funny sketches that used the saxes for sound effects. Then they broke in to James Brown's "I Feel Good," and much dancing ensued (yours truly and his two left feet uninvolved, of course). It was a nice finish to a day where I didn't expect to do much of anything.

Pictures first!

Monday newspaper, front page. Turns out all those "crusty punk rockers" (40,000 of them, apparently) were here to watch some French punk band. It got muddy. It was really odd walking around today and not seeing nearly as many piercings and dreadlocks.

It isn't French culture till you start hearing an accordion. It almost felt like I was in Amélie.

The Victoria Cross, Britain's highest military decoration. Photographed inside one of La Citadelle's military museums.

Chateau Frontenac, as seen from La Citadelle. It's a hotel now, evidently a really expensive one. I saw a new red Ferrari with a pink bow in the parking lot. Someone's gonna have a great birthday.

First Grace Alive! shirt in French Canada! I only included this to prove that I am in fact here and didn't cull these photos from Google.

Ceremonial guard. You can barely make out their eyes under the fuzzy hat thing, and it's kinda creepy when you realize they're looking at you.

Knives from Nazi-era Germany. On the left is a knife issued to Hitler's elite SS guards. On the right, a knife issued to Hitler's Youth (think, Nazi Boy Scouts).

A tank, trying to look non-chalant.

Twelve-ton cannon. It had a range of 5 kilometers, which is pretty darn far.

Another restaurant. Just to give you sense of the local atmosphere.

Yet another restaurant. They really dig flowers over here.

Chateau Frontenac from below.

Juggler, with fire.

Angel on a statue.

Today was characterized by near misses. For dinner, we had cuisses de grenouilles (that would be frog legs) as an appetizer, but the camera battery died before my brother could grab a shot of me digging in. This was the first time we'd had frog legs since 1991, and for the record, it still tastes (and strangely enough, looks) like chicken.

Then, when I'd charged the battery just long enough for maybe one or two shots, Wyclef Jean came within ten feet of me at tonight's concert (he seems big on this whole crowd interaction thing), and I didn't have the good sense to snap a picture until he was on his way back to the stage. Bah!

Said camera battery is charging, so I still haven't been able to upload pictures. What did we do today…breakfast was croissants and pain du chocolat…yum. We visited a local mall for a bit. I tried brushing up my French by listening in on conversations, but man…teenagers everywhere talk way too fast, I guess.

After grabbing lunch, we went back to Vieux-Québec to visit the citadel that overlooks the city. It's called, quite cleverly, "La Citadelle." It turns out that it's actually an active military base housing Canada's 22^nd Regiment, so were only allowed to go on a guided tour. We saw all sorts of nifty stuff, including an absolutely-breathtaking view of the city, and these humongous cannons (a 9-ton gun nicknamed "Rachel," and an anonymous 12-ton behemoth). The ceremonial guards are dressed in those big fuzzy black hats and red uniforms that the Tower Guard in London wear, so that was a good picture opportunity as well.

After the tour, we wandered through Vieux-Québec until we got to Chateau Frontenac, which is down by the waterfront. Street entertainers were drawing crowds, so we stopped to watch a couple juggling acts before wandering some more. It was approaching early evening, and the whole city had taken on a lively but easy-going pace. There are musicians and horse-drawn carriages and flowers everywhere. It was fun just walking through cobbled streets, turning at random corners, finding little surprises, and feeling surprisingly at ease. I don't sense a language barrier at all, but then, I haven't had the opportunity to engage in a real conversation with someone.

We ate dinner (including the above-mentioned frog legs) at a Vietnamese/Chinese/Thai/generic Asian place with a spectacular view of the city. The food was alright (General Tao's chicken is the same wherever you go), but service was slow. Afterwards, my brother and I went to watch Wyclef Jean, who's an electric presence on stage. It was a fun concert (the guy can play the guitar with his tongue!), and afterwards the streets were choked with thousands of concert-goers. I got a little adventurous and led my brother down some back-streets back to the hotel.

Oh! Camera battery's charged. Gonna upload some pictures.

7/13/2004 Photo Update!

San Francisco from a couple thousand feet up

About as close as I got to a photo of the thunderstorms. I took this with a 15-second shutter speed and intense concentration trying to hold the camera for that long, and it still came out wimpy.

Dawn from several thousand feet up. I think that's Lake Huron at the lower left.

Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore. Stop sign in French.

Québec Parliament building.

Restaurant in Vieux-Québec. Imagine this replicated two dozen times and you might start getting a feel for the place.

Blurry restaurant shot of my brother. I think the party to the right of him were Americans.

One of the three city gates. If you look carefully, you'll notice the rain falling.

Je suis fatigué. But we're here, praise God. And this place is amazing. So was the trip. More later, though, I need a nap.

8:02pm update: So it's later. My brother just walked out with the camera, so no pictures now. The flight over was mostly uneventful, which I suppose is fortunate, since there are thunderstorms all over Canada right now. We actually flew through a couple on the way to Toronto, which was quite thrilling—watching a thunderstorm from several thousand feet up was more spectacular than the Fourth of July.

Prior to yesterday, the last time I'd flown was before September 11^th, so I'd never experienced the sort of intensified security at American airports that's now commonplace. Oddly enough, security at Toronto's airport was a lot harsher than San Francisco and Sacramento…along with the typical shoe and belt removal routine, they actually had me demonstrate that my CD player and cell phone were, in fact, in working order (as opposed to being detonation devices, I guess). My brother also had to show that he wasn't hiding anything in his camera lenses, one by one (he brought three or four). We almost missed our connecting flight to Québec after being held up at security, but we just made it.

Québec City is straight out of France. Many of the buildings in Vieux-Québec (literally, "Old Québec") were built in the 18^th and 19^th centuries. Visiting is almost like practicing for a trip to Europe: it's cheaper flying out here, the American dollar is stronger against the Canadian dollar than against the euro, and if you happen to totally botch up in trying to speak French, the people are friendly and gracious and easily slip into English.

After checking in at the hotel this morning, we walked up to Vieux-Québec…it's on a hill overlooking Québec, so it was a good twenty-minute hike (think San Francisco). Vieux-Québec is fortified, separated from the rest of the city by stone walls with towered gateways. Inside the walls, the buildings (mostly boutique shops, restaurants, and cafés) are stone and the streets are narrow (and at times, cobbled!). Incidentally, the drivers drive like Europeans as well, though the summer festival closes streets to make it somewhat safe for pedestrians.

For dinner, we found a nice créperie just down the block from the chateau that dominates Vieux-Québec's skyline. As in San Francisco, all the restaurants have the maitre d' (or in this case, the maitresse d'—all the ones I saw were female) stand in the doorway with a menu, enticing customers to come in. We were seated just as it started raining hard—the thunderstorms I saw last night had evidently been dumping rain for a week. The candlelight cast soft shadows on the stone walls, and the whole place smelled of fondue. Dinner was simple but delicious—I started with what's got to be the best French onion soup in the Western hemisphere, before digging into a crépe called la Frontenac (named after the chateau): Canadian ham, cheese, and white sauce…mmm. Our waiter also gave us maple syrup on the side, which seemed odd for a savory crépe. We figured we weren't supposed to use it, but I poured a bit on mine anyways, and it actually tasted really good. I've become a convert to French cuisine, and I'm definitely gonna try to replicate that French onion soup when I get home.

*yawn* I'm sleepy...it's about 9pm, local time. Some other quick thoughts:

-People are surprised when I tell them I'm from California…evidently, my French accent's pretty good. The dead giveaway, though is the fact that my grammar is horrific.

-A funny adjustment, made poignant in the restaurant, is that it's not as easy to have secret conversations. In California, if my family wants to discuss something discretely (like how much to tip a waiter), we often converse in another language, typically French with a bit of Malagasy mixed in. Of course, that doesn't work here, since everyone understands what you're saying in both English and French. We even met a store clerk who knows a little Malagasy.

-Something the website for the summer festival didn't care to mention is that it's seems to be some sort of mecca for people whom my brother refers to as "crusty punk rockers." For you Davisites, think the Whole Earth Festival times five. Most people here are actually pretty normal, but every third or fourth person is a teenager or intoxicated adult with ragged clothes (including the quintessential "Misfits" concert shirt), dreadlocks (or a mohawk!) and a dire need of a bath.

I'm back temporarily from hiatus to try something new: blogging while traveling. My family will be leaving for Québec Saturday evening, and we'll be bringing a laptop (with Photoshop installed!) and a digital camera. So, assuming that we have reliable Internet acccess at the hotel and I don't do something stupid (like forget the camera battery), I just may be able to update regularly over the next couple days, complete with photos. Rest assured, if I don't update between now and next Thursday, it's probably because I did do something stupid.

What could there possibly be to do in Canada, you ask? I have no idea. But we'll be staying in Québec City, which sounds promising. I mean, it's got a citadel and city walls…how cool is that? And if we don't find that interesting, we'll be arriving in the middle of their annual Summer Festival, which should be a nice diversion.

To further enhance the authenticity of the experience, I shall henceforth post only in French. Mais, ne vous inquiétez pas—je plaisante. Je t'assure que je suis nul en français, et je fais peur quand je pense qu'il faut que je parle seulement en français pendant quatre ou cinq jours.