The
stay in Montreal had not been that comfortable, but the location was a great plus.
The old city had been a walking distance away and a major Metro station was
also a stone’s throw away. Another advantage of the Hotel was a very secure
parking right in front of it, even though it had to be paid for at the rate of
C$ 15 per day. This morning, after the usual breakfast of muffin, croissant and
a cup of hot coffee I was off on one of the shortest drives in the expedition.
Montreal to Quebec City is just 260 km. With the maximum speed of 100 kph and minimum of 60 kph I expected to do the day’s drive in less than four hours at leisure behind the wheels. It had rained heavily overnight and was still
drizzling when I drove over the Jacques Cartier Bridge to leave the city of Montreal.
Quebec City, the capital of the French speaking Province, was reached in about
three hours with light traffic after the bustle of Montreal.
On
the way I had noticed a few police cars driving at high speed in the direction
of where I was headed. After a while I realised that the cars had been on a
chase as at least four cars were detained on the side of the roads by the police
cars. Police intervention seemed to be immediate with many patrol cars
monitoring the highways from vantage positions. I am sure that the Control Room
had facilities for larger surveillance. But what has continued to amaze me is
the infrastructure and driving discipline. That said, speeding cars were
intercepted, and hazarding a guess, appropriate immediate action was also be
initiated. 
The
lovely home I had booked to stay in Quebec City was in the heart of downtown. I contacted the
landlady on the phone and the pleasant Helene Pauline was along in a few
minutes. Once the luggage was unloaded she came with me in the car to show me
the parking slot, which was right behind the house. Helene, the owner of the
two bed-roomed house familiarised me with the house, its facilities and the
neighbourhood. She also told me what I could attempt to do in two days, as the
weather was good. It seemed as if the weather Gods were waiting to hear that.
The pitter patter that started mid-afternoon became cold, unbearable rain by
late evening.
Despite
the impending rain, in the face of a light drizzle, I started on an energetic
walk to the old walled city and its environs. Not giving into the dictate of
the skies I walked around till my body had gone numb in the cold. All my
efforts to enjoy the first city founded in Canada by the French in 1608 was
mostly ambushed. However, the rain added a new dimension to the visit. Instead
of a walking tour, I had a running tour.
The
part of the city where I stayed is Le Cite de Limolio. Helene told me that the
Old City doesn’t have many residents now as most of the properties have been
bought up by developers and individual entrepreneurs to promote tourism. Le
Cite is the most densely populated of Quebec City’s regions with nearly a
quarter of the population living there. The first sight that struck me as I
walked towards the walled city is the Saint Charles River. The pleasing river
finally drains into the St. Lawrence river.
The
Gare du Palais is the rail and bus termini of the City. The majestic building
that looks like a chateau, and some say designed like the Chateau Frontenac, is
a sight to behold from anywhere. The building housed the Canadian Pacific
Railway Station from 1915 and later got developed into a bus terminus when the
rail passenger business came down. There are lovely small parks in front of the
terminus and a few art pieces along them. Extensive construction work was going
on there to restore after the damage of winter.
Immediately
thereafter came the Marche de Vieux Port, a market for local farmers and
artisans. The market is not very large but has fresh fruits and vegetables,
cafes and products of local artisans like leather wear. I got a proper ‘lesson’
in various types of maple syrup, its sugar and some food products made with
maple syrup. There was also a shop selling live seafood. Helene had told me
that this town is famous for seafood and that it is lobster season now.
However, I was not prepared to see the size of lobsters that I saw in the shop.
A young lady at the store showed them off to me and posed with a couple of
them. In the market I sampled some Chilean food – a kind of a large meat
‘samosa’. I took morsels of them looking out onto the nice little marina.
The
walled city is incredible. The ramparts that cover most of old Quebec City was
an important British foothold after its victory over the French in 1759. In the
foreground of the imposing wall are buildings with bright facades. Most of
which are galleries with awesome collections, some new and many antique. The cobbled
streets of the city are a throw back from the ancient times. While walking
around the city I noticed that there were so many sculptures that the city
could also be known as the ‘City of Sculptures’. Quebec City certainly has its European
charm and North American attitude, with significant contributions by the Amerindians.
The
rain had picked up in pace and so had my footsteps. I did not have enough time
to stop by and admire the heritage stuff that was at every nook and corner of
the city. A very large mural in Place Royale certainly riveted my gaze. I was
given to understand that murals were commissioned to give large walls a new
life and breathe vibrancy. Certainly the mural that told of the life in Quebec
City has done that beautifully. Called ‘Fresque des Quebecois’ the mural has
historical figures, writers and artists as characters. Also in Place Royal is
the bust of Louis XIV placed there to honour the then King of France. In close
proximity to that is the Notre Dame-des-Victories. The small Roman Catholic
church is one of the oldest in North America, having completed construction
1723.
I
took the steep funicular from the Lower to Upper Town. The ride was not very
crowded, possibly because of the poor weather. By the time I reached Dufferin
Terrace it had become very windy and the rain drops became heavier. I had just
enough time to admire the monument placed on the Terrace honouring the founder
of Quebec - Samuel de Champlain. A man of many parts he is said to have crossed
the Atlantic 21 times and established the city in 1608.
The
Chateau Frontenac is arguably the most photographed hotel on the Planet. The
hotel was built in the late 19th century by the Canadian Pacific
Railway and is now privately managed. The chateauesque-style building is over
260 feet tall and has 18 floors. The rain drove me further quickly. The Musee
du Fort was closed. The museum reportedly has a good display and films of
battles past and provides a bridge to the present. In close proximity to the Musee
du Fort is the Maillou House which is a good example of Quebec architecture of
the 18th century. 
I
reached The Citadel in a canter. It is an active military installation and I
was at one of its entrances. Walking had become difficult with rain pouring
down. I had become fully drenched and was shaking in the cold. Despite this
condition I spotted a bust of Mahatma Gandhi in the foreground of the
magnificent Parliament building. The Parliament comprising the
Lieutenant-Governor and the National Assembly function from here. The 170 feet
building has the statues of many of those who shaped the fortunes of the
Province. In the premise is also the Suffragettes statue that pays tribute to
the ladies who were responsible for getting women the right to vote.
By
now I could no longer walk; I had to head back to my accommodation. Opposite
the Concord hotel I found a bus stop. Helene had told me that routes 3 and 801
would get me back to the accommodation. I had to tender exact change if I were
to buy a ticket on the bus. I was short by under a dollar and did not know what
to do. A young lady, waiting for her bus, quickly understood my dilemma,
assessed that I was in a bad state being completely drenched and asked how much
I was short by. The fare is C$ 3.50 and I had C$ 2.75. Without any ado she handed
over a dollar and took the next bus that stopped at the stop.
When a 801 came
along I got in and took a ticket. When I told him the stop I wanted to go to he
asked me to get off and take route 800 that was just behind. When I hopped on
to that the driver told me to get into the bus in front. I was on a hop-on
hop-off tour, it seemed. I got off that bus and went back to the first one. The
driver again told me that I am on the wrong bus. Regardless, I decided to
travel that route. In a few minutes I was safely deposited close to my
accommodation. It had been a very long evening, full of wondrous sights and
pelting rain. In the room I spent some time getting dry and doing the laundry
before signing off for the day with noodles and baked beans.
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