Parlez-vous québecois?

Romance was in the air this weekend. Three weddings, I was invited to, were all held on My high school roommate, T, and I planned a trip to Quebec City about 6 weeks ago. We were tired and decided it was high time for a girl adventure. A trip to let go of school, work, and family.

Planes, Trains and Automobiles

I arrived at Jean Lesage International Airport early Friday afternoon. Hmm... Can an airport truly be international with only 3 USA destinations and essentially one warehouse building that serves as the terminal. My 1 hour 30 minute deafening plane ride was fairly uneventful considering the thunderstorms all around.

When I walked outside of the terminal I was confused by the multiple concrete barriers and the lack of signage. How was I supposed to get to Quebec City? I walked back into the terminal and asked a man in uniform if there was a taxi stand. He answered of course and proceeded to walk me outside. I now saw my fellow plane mates also milling around outside. The man squawked something into his radio and a fleet of minivans soon came rushing around the corner. The one that stopped in front of me stayed in the middle of the street. I climbed in. I told him the name of my hotel which was no good, and then gave him the slip of paper with all the info written out. "Okay, no problem I have GPS."

I introduced myself as my favorite alias, Michelle. "Michelle," he said. "What a strange name? Is is it Chinese?" Ummmm... no. "My name is Hannani. Can you say that? Well, I guess you can pronounce it Hannani in English. Where are you from?" Boston. "Oh Boston. I have been there. It smells like the subway. No fresh air. You know Quebec is like Boston. We are an old city and we have a city like Cambridge, we call Levi, across the river. Have you ever been to Cambridge?" Ummm...yes. "Quebec on the weekend is very much fun. We like to party until 4 in the morning. You will like it here."

My twenty minute cab ride was highly entertaining. Hannani told me what to do, his opinion of New York, important French phrases I needed to learn etc..

Ye Olde Towne

T arrived late on Friday night. She was tuckered out and so we did not party that night. Instead we retired early and decided to wake up early to orient ourselves in the city. We ate our breakfast of strong coffee and fresh baked croissants and hurried to the tourist information center.

Our tourist information officer had a very cute and peppy, wanting T and I to visit everything. Everything was fun, and "I like it very much." Okay, so we decided to first go on a tour of the most photographed hotel in the world, Le Chateau Frontenec, of which I do not have a photo. In the lobby of this hotel, our tour guide, Laura, was dressed in a chamber maid. She told us the history of the hotel and then pretended we were all apprentice chamber maids. The hotel was kind of creepy, hallways straight out of "the Shining."

After our tour, we had reservations for lunch at Aux Anciens Canadiens. Once again we were witnesses to a staff dressed in costumes circa 1800. The food was supposed to be traditional faire from that period. I ate the trapper's special: Lac St Jean meat pie (made of various game meats, potatoes, and maple syrup) and a beer. Now T, is a vegetarian, and I guess in the ye olde days of Canada everyone ate meat. She ended up with a salad and artesianal cheeses.

Parlez-vous québecois?
On Sunday, we took a walking tour of the city. Our guide was a retired teacher, Paul Moreau. He was fantastic. Although our tour was only supposed to be 1.5 to 2 hours, it was not until 4 hours later when ours ended. But it was worth the grumbling stomach and tired feet as we went through alley ways, small markets, private hotels and museums, all with their own story.

I had suggested that we go to Montmorency Falls, because my friend K, could not stop talking about it. However, after our long walking tour, I could tell that T was a little hesitant. Like a trooper she climbed into the bus with me. We had planned to take public transportation out there as suggested by the peppy tourist information officer.

The bus winded through the suburbs of Quebec city. Teenagers and the elderly got on and off the bus. When we finally got there, we were happy to see other people in the park. The falls were unusual and there was a small bridge that crossed it. We walked around the park, but decided to head back a little early because we did not know where the bus stop was. And that would be when trouble ensued.

"Pardon. Parlez-vous Anglais?"

"Un petit pas"

"Oh great, how do we get to the bus stop? We need to go to Quebec city."

"[Something in French.] ...bridge... [Something in French.]...corner... [Something in French with a lot of hand gestures.]"

This pattern repeated about 8 times. We went into gas stations, pizza stands, and accosted an old lady on her porch. All had different instructions. At one point we found our bus station, but apparently due to construction that stop was moved somewhere. T and I could not stop laughing. Our joke was a "petit pas" my ass. Eventually, an elderly man on an evening walk, saw us lost walking around the residential suburbs. He walked us to a bus stop, since he felt it was the only way we could get there safely. He was right. He was our hero. Later, when we mapped our journey, we realized we had walked 2.5 miles away from the falls.

Romance...well close enough

Thinking we deserved a break, we went into the Old Port district and sat down for a meal at L'Echaude. Hurrah! Everyone spoke English. Vegetarian options. Oh we could not be happier. We started on our first bottle of wine and delicious apps. Our waiter made funny jokes by telling us that the only thing he could say in English was vroom vroom. And My steak frites was perfect. We sat outside under the heating lamps, candle light, sipping our second bottle of wine talking about life. Maybe not romantic but the perfect end to our weekend away.