DAY TWO--QUEBEC CITY

Since we had arrived in the deep darkness that surrounds midnight, we had no feel at all for Quebec City.  Maps and guide books gathered months ago were less than helpful and, let's face it, Fodor is no Rick Steves.  It was time to open the door and see for ourselves. 

Stepping onto our front stoop, we were met by the first of many horse and carriage tours that clip clop up the Av Ste Genevieve every day, acquainting tourists with the Upper Town of the Old City.  The drivers of the carriages are dressed differently from one another, but all are as they might have appeared 300 years ago.  On lesser traveled streets, they are ubiquitous.  As we turned left, we realized we were  the only a block or two from the Fleuve Saint-Laurent.  "Ah, it's the Fleuve.  Let's go there."

 

As we approached the Fleuve we realized Le Chateau Frontenac was just a hop, skip and jump from our more humble B&B.  But humble is OK.  The neighborhood is good and, I'm told, location is everything.  To my surprise, however, Le Chateau Frontenac is in the midst of a re-roofing project and it's distinctive color may be bright copper, brown, or the classic green, depending on the angle from which you are viewing it.  Up close, dear friends, she's beginning to show her age...but in a classy way.  Rather like Katherine Hepburn or Lauren Bacall.

 

 

 

Between the Chateau and the Fleuve, the Terrasse Dufferin skirts the St. Lawrence and provides panoramic views across, up and down that impressive waterway.  On a beautiful day, such as this, it was crowded with tourists, most of whom were focused  upon, posed before, or pointing at Le Chateau.  After all, it is the most photographed hotel in the world...or so Fodor wrote.

 

If that's the case, let's give it one more shot.

         

 

It's a weird thing, but I do love elegant, revered bronzes of elegant, revered heroes who stand regally through the ages with a bird on their head.  Samuel de Champlain, born "not before" 1574 was the founder of Quebec City.  Also, on our side of the border, he explored and mapped Lake Champlain, New York and Vermont.  Unfortunately, he also took potshots at a couple of Iroquois leaders, killing them, and thus setting up decades of tension between the French and that historic native group.

   

 

 

Toward the southwest end of the Terrasse, we've come across a set of stairs--signs cautioning they number in the hundreds--firmly attached to the granite cliff  below La Citadelle and the Plains of Abraham.  It must be a shortcut.  Unfortunately, it is not.  Benches, however, are placed at landings every now and then.  The designers had foreseen just how many stairs tourists of a certain age could climb before they threw up and passed out.  During the climb, we looked back to see that our ship had come in...quite literally.  It looks like a big 'un, but we'll affirm that tomorrow when we board. 

 

 

 

After we wandered the Plains of Abraham (an old cattle pasture that also was the site of a 1759 historic battle) we realized that it was only a block or two from our B&B with nary a stair in between.  We had definitely taken the long way up.  As we continued to wander sort of northerly, we discovered  rue St-Louis, a beautiful street of shops, galleries and restaurants...   

 

 

 

...such as Aux Anciens Canadiens, located in the oldest house in North America (1675).  Our Victoria recommended this restaurant because it is famous for serving all types of Canadian game.  If caribou, elk, buffalo, duck, or  etc... is your desire, this is the place.  It is packed and prefers reservations, but its tiny front terrace is a wonderful place to while away the hour or so wait for your table.  In fact, BC relaxed so much as he sipped his wine, I become somewhat concerned that, like warm ice cream, he might melt and begin dripping off the table's edge.

 

 

 

Today we learned that Quebec City, at least the Upper Town, is easily walkable.  It's unusual for us, but we didn't enter a single museum, and made only a brief visit to a small shop, a longer walk through at an Inuit Art Gallery, and a couple of hours or so at our gamey restaurant. We could stay weeks.  If Quebec City is nothing else, it is a feast for the eyes and fresh air for the soul.