Why Quebec?

Why Quebec?

For me it was personal, but in writing about my trip I thought about how I would sell this place as a destination. Several friends, coworkers, and associates asked me incessantly why I was going to Quebec.

I think the skepticism probably arose out of a lack of awareness many have of Canada as a destination. Canada seems too close to the US in culture and location to offer anything rewarding and extraordinary for US citizens. Even my Dutch friend stated this (after going to Toronto). In particular my coworkers were confused for desiring Quebec in March as a destination. During winter one is supposed to embark to warmer climates…not colder ones.

So why did I go? And why would you go?

I went for hockey and poutine. And why wouldn't you go?

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I was indecisive on destinations but I knew I wanted to go somewhere in March during my spring break, during a week in which I would have paid vacation days and no homework. I knew I wanted to check a place off my 30 List and Canada was on the list.

Within my 30 List my rationale to go to Canada was that it was our neighbor. It should be easy. Why not go?

I mentioned that I had personal interests in going to Canada and let's be honest...it's hockey. Hockey has remained my favorite sport since middle school and in the deprivation of a NHL team in Atlanta I found myself rooting for the Montreal Canadiens. Canada is the motherland, la mere patrie of hockey so Montreal started creeping up as a destination.

The amount of people that I know that have been to Montreal is extremely small, but fairly positive. Quebec struck me as a different place, in a good way. Culturally, I perceived Quebec as defiantly independent and that quite attracted me.

As to the weather, the idea of being in a snowy wonderland attracted to me. There's something about French mansard roofs that seems perfectly tailored for snow, aesthetically speaking. Basically I wanted to be in a fairy tale. So in addition to Montreal, Quebec City joined my itinerary.

So my reasons are simple. I wanted to be in the motherland of hockey, somewhere different than I'm used to, and in a fairy tale.

So why would you go?

It's important to seek out the different. Twain said "Traveling is the greatest assault on the ordinary mind" and going to somewhere different helps in that assault. Yet, there's something human in finding the familiar in the strange. What Canada can provide is a different perspective in the same language, or for Quebec (which is French first but delightfully bilingual), a different and foreign perspective on the same continent.

So much of Quebec has similar elements of the US. In Montreal it almost feels like a US city, actually. But Canada owns up more to its European cultural identity than the US. Architecture, cuisine, and of course the symbols of Quebec are all about France in a way that the US can't fathom. It's a distinct identity, this hybrid, where leisure feels European in the calmer pace, the strolls, and the dictum of work to live as opposed to living to work.

This is the greatest difference. Canada feels easy on anxieties. There's a night and day difference between the Montreal and Quebec City airports and the Newark airport (which you should avoid at all cost).

So why come? To get a new perspective of course, without traveling too far (it's as close to Georgia as California).

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So what did I do in Quebec? What did I do that I couldn't do in Georgia?

Well for one, walk around the city without driving.

If I'm truthful, Montreal very much resembles a U.S. city. It's very urban, with a mix of French-style houses (including my hostel, located at the nexus of Quartier Latin and the Plateau) and high rises. "Industrial" isn't a word people associate with Canada, but walking around the Southwest neighborhood in Montreal--which is a bit off the beaten path--I could see Montreal's industrial element. After eating a smoked meat sandwich at Quebec Smoked Meats I was instructed to go down a few blocks and have a promenade. The "promenade" was down Atwater Canal which was plenty frozen and plenty industrial (thus it was a HARDCORE promenade).

That was Monday and Monday was my least impressive day. Being said, there's a ragged beauty to Montreal in how it embraces its difference and weirdness. In the same way that Austin keeps itself weird, Montreal will trap you in its eccentricities within neighborhoods like the Plateau and Quartier Latin. Here there was a mix of standard snow covered parks and plazas with non-standard places like anarchist bookstores filled with both regular Howard Zinn books and paper and staple zines. This was where both poutine and smoked meat shops were as well as Tibetan and Moroccan cuisines.

My first day I walked in the pelting snow to La Banquise, which was 12 minutes roughly, to get arguably the most famous poutine. I was alone, there was a massive line and I chatted with some women from Ontario doing a mid-life list who allowed me to join them. These were wonderful ladies who gave me solid advice, introduced me to the "toasted dog" (which is like a slaw dog) and bought my bacon poutine.

Down the street, halfway between my hostel and La Banquise, was a place called L'gros luxe which became my staple due to its proximity from my hostel. They offered cocktails served with toothpicks of onion rings and burger sliders in them. They offered fried cookie dough. They offered grilled cheeses with poutine in them—which I eventually got.

I took the advice of one of the lovely ladies of La Banquise and ice skated for the first time at the Old Port. Vieux Port, actually. It's colonial French and touristy and it was lovely. I certainly said aloud "Holy Shit" when I came into Place Jacques Cartier. It was foggy, still snowy, but I laced up. At first I walked just to manage my balance. Then I hit the ice gently, clinging to the boards. I got to a level of comfort in which I would learn by moving from one point to another. After a while, it became slightly natural. At Vieux Port I skated in the rink and the natural ice path, surrounded by the old city and the St. Lawrence River. Not to use a Zen adjective, but I felt timeless ice skating these paths.

On my last day I found my places. I found the Place des art, this beautiful semi-underground art complex that itself was an exhibit. A food court was within the complex, where I got Lebanese food. I found Parc Jean Drapeau, where the Biosphere's cold steel mesmerized as much as the thawing St. Lawrence River nearby. Montreal has a loudness and Parc Jean Drapeau offers the reprieve.

Plus there was the Bell Centre and seeing the Montreal Canadiens game in hockey country. There's that.

I will say Montreal wasn't always hunky dory. My itinerary was blistering in the most literal way (which was my fault, not Montreal’s). After being slightly confused in certain neighborhoods I learned to take screen captures of various directions that worked reasonably well.

Montreal's beauty was often mired in my bouts of bittersweet loneliness. I met people, spoke to people, shared travel ideas and stories, but for the most part I was on my own. The last night the hostel people led us to a club that played '80s music and had $5 pitchers. I don't drink but I wanted fun. I was left there because of their drama...so not so much fun.

Thus,

I'll take a company of 40 year old ladies over young urbanities any day.

So that's Montreal. It's New World with enough traces of France and weirdness to make it worth one's while.

But I preferred Quebec City, if I'm honest.

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Even in the sludgy, melting snow that drooped from the roofs, even among the cascade of tourists, Quebec City is beautiful. It's just a beautiful city.

Where Montreal is a New World city Quebec City is an old world. There are newer parts, with a modern downtown, but Old Quebec feels like something out a Disney fairy tale. It's a city with its original city walls, original fort, and buildings that have withstood three centuries (with renovations, of course). It's a city surrounded by three rivers, including the sublime and frozen St. Lawrence. It's a city that even during its worst--the touristy crepe shops with traditionally dressed servers, with (actually good) English pubs and Tim Horton's, the overbearing wind and chill--remained charming.

I took the lessons of overdoing it in a bustling city like Montreal and allowed myself to relax. This meant the leisure of wandering in Quebec City, of enjoying the views of Old Town from my hostel, taking down quiet moments in the hostel's library or reading The Book of Sarah at the cafe on Couillard, and ice skating (of course) at Place D'Youville at night while French chanson songs played.

There was also maple. So much maple. I don't care how cold it was I most certainly took advantage of the maple gelato at the store on Rue St. Jean.

I walked down Rue St. Jean so many times, seeing the aged buildings in the city walls and checking out the stores for locals outside the city walls past Place D'Youville. My mustache would have icicles at night after walking so often but that was ok.

There were the touristy things I definitely took in. The Musee de la civilisation is the must, as is the Hotel du Glace (Ice Hotel) outside Quebec City on Bus 801 as is any tour to Ile D'orleans and the staggering Montmorency Falls.

Skip the Musee du Fort. It wasn’t worth $8.

I was able to spend more time with people in Quebec City, chatting with Frederic the concierge, dining out with Anne and her Taiwanese bunkmate, bonding with Ian from Cleveland in the taxi to the airport.

It's hard to describe the vibe QC had. It's the same kind of vibe Valparaiso and even Cusco had. Zen…maybe? It's like the old city and the calm ebb and flow of its pace were saying "Don't worry right now" or "just chill." Perhaps given the weather that's a bit too obvious, but I definitely felt like I could chill out here.

…

If traveling is an assault on the ordinary mind, or on one’s perspective I think Quebec City helped me come to terms with and validate a conception I’ve developed. Work to live, not live to work. The kind of elements I relished in Quebec City and Montreal are elements I can enjoy here. In the midst of overtime, of 40-44 hour work weeks and schoolwork and writing and becoming a festival filmmaker there needs to be these “just chill” moments. I need to go out and read with a cup of coffee, find more parks, or take moments just for myself.

That’s the difference. Vive la difference!