With Willie Nelson's singing in my mind, we are 'On the road again'.
We were more jet-lagged than we thought we would be. Travelling is tiring anyway, but adding a 7:30am laundromat in London and night driving among all the Formula 1 wannabe pilots in Montreal, we were stressed out by the time we hit the hotel. And body clocks 5 hours later than the wall clocks. So I was a bit grumpy and exhausted, but not sleepy. So, a later night than it should have been for both of us. And, in spite of the advertisment that wireless internet was included, it was far too slow to be of use. So no web page today. Jan suggested perhaps we have a language problem here that spills over to the internet, and I think she may be right.
The morning dawned bright and cheery though, and we sorted our maps and directories for the next part of the journey east and then south to the maritimes. Unwrapped Hal the GPS and off we went. First stop was Trois Rivieres (used to know it as Three Rivers, had a friend from there) and we were pleasantly surprised. Small, semi-industrial, very old and proud of it, and the people very friendly and pleased to try out their English as Jan and I have virtually no French. Had to point at the menu a couple of times, but with much laughter all round. Lovely place.
Next stop, Quebec City, and our hotel a 2 minute walk from the walls of the Old City, a perfect location. The most expensive so far, but we got what we paid for and it was worth it. Only problem was same as the night before, no wireless, but no big deal. Out and about the city in the afternoon and evening. Beautiful weather, a bit cool, but clear skies and later a full moon. Tramped all over the old city walls, up and down the cobble streets, among the winding roads, dodging the horse-drawn carts that take the right-of-way even at traffic lights. To keep the streets clean and still allow this tourist attraction, the horses all have little diaper-like things on that catch the nasty bits but still allow a strong and unmistakeable odor. Just like the dairy-air (derriere) on the farm.
The Quebec Parliament buildings very old and beautiful and well-lit at night, and its fountain out front. Chateau Frontenac just as picture-postcard as advertised, trully stunning with its night lighting. We couldn't get within 20 feet of it though, kept away by a squadron of RCMP in armoured vests and machine guns that surrounded (yes, surrounded) it. Seems that from Thursday through the weekend there is a conference of french speaking nations there, including the President of France and the potentates of a few minor African countries and other reminants of the French Colonial days. The Francophone Conference, they said, and the whole of the Chateau Frontenac was reserved for them. Les Gendarmes were loaded for bear and expecting trouble, even in postcard Quebec City. But the hotel was pretty from the outside, just like its sisters in Banff, Lake Louise, and Victoria. But the local hotels and restaurants and bars loved it. At dinner, Jan and I sat next to a couple of very black and large gentlemen in ill-fitting suits who spoke french in rapid phrases and hushed tones, the whites of their eyes flashing as they looked about the room. All very reminiscent of Humphery Bogart movies like 'Casablanca' or 'The Maltese Falcon'. Fascinating to an over-active imagination like mine.
Finally, to bed tired but happy.
