Tag Archives: Travel

Crossing a qulture qhasm

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Monday September 19 2022 – The day started and ended with something warm and familiar – a Nice Cup Of Tea (Twinings Earl Grey, courtesy of St. Lawrence Market in Toronto). In between those comforting landmarks, there was a distinct culture shift as we headed to Québec City.

The Via Rail experience was broadly similar to that of our journey into Ottawa:  masks were required at all times in station and train, unless actually eating or drinking (even between sips of a drink, according to the stern-sounding MC shortly after we set off); food and drink were served at our comfortable seats; power and WiFi were available throughout the journey; and we arrived about half an hour late.  The differences were subtle, though marked:  the ham and omelette served for breakfast were both very odd creations; the WiFi worked for some websites (including, fortunately, this one) but not others (including my banking app, so I couldn’t check on whether the Ottawa hotel had really given us free internet access); and our suitcases were checked in, rather than accompanying us in the carriage. Oh, and the weather wasn’t all that brilliant, either, but then we were on a train, so didn’t really mind.

On the journey, Jane saw more churches with what looked like silver spires

(reminiscent of Notre Dame in Ottawa). The explanation will be forthcoming tomorrow, by the way, so please continue to pay attention.

But then we arrived in Québec city, and it was obvious that we had qrossed a qultural qhasm: we might as well have been in Paris.  The atmospheric change affected the passengers, whose previous orderly behaviour descended into an amorphous mob grabbing at their luggage as it came off the baggage car; initial signs directing passengers to taxis evaporated, leaving those in need of transport baffled as to where to go; a young lady at an “information” desk couldn’t be arsed to do more than hold up a piece of paper with a taxi phone number on it; and the taxi rank (once we discovered it, indicated by a scruffy and not very prominent sign attached crookedly to a lamppost hidden behind a construction site) was devoid of taxis. After all the orderly, North American and well-organised travels of the last six weeks, it was a distinctly European experience.

Eventually, taxis started appearing and the ragged queue that had rather grudgingly formed with a puzzled expression on its collective face, started being transported to its destinations. The sophistication of the local taxi network was laid bare as our taxi driver stopped at one point to shout at another taxi that he should go to the station as it was “plein” (full), and reinforced as he explained that he’d prefer us to pay cash – the first time we had actually had to use Canadian banknotes in a month and a half. Oh, how we chuckled!

The Parisian feel continued as we arrived at our hotel (yet another Fairmonster, the Chateau Frontenac)

whose front yard was littered with vehicles (Gawd alone knows how our taxi driver got out). Once inside, we had a choice of what might or might not have been three separate queues, any of which might or might not have led to a point where we might or might not have been able to check in, amid scenes of fairly voluble and rather unco-ordinated discussions going on all around us.  We took the only course of action one can under these circumstances, which is to stand separately in two of the least unpromising-looking queues, ready to spring to the other in case it was a more effective choice.  In the end, and completely by accident, I won.  I saw a couple of people apparently jump all of the available queues and decided that I should follow this very Parisian example; it turned out that they’d found the Fairmont Loyalty Card queue and since I have an Accor membership I was able to find someone prepared to help us.

Once that had happened, everything proceeded a lot more smoothly.  We got a nice room (rather reminiscent of Jane’s Parisian garret apartment of 30 years ago) on the seventh floor, and the last Parisian snook cocked at us was that we were charged by a hotel room service jobsworth for some milk for the cup of tea we were really in need of by this stage. This is our eighth Fairmont; none of the previous seven have cavilled at simply – and freely – helping out a couple of Brits in pitiful need of tea. But we were now in logical Paris, so not only were we charged for a glass of milk, but, of course, there was a delivery cost added to the bill.

Anyhoo….

It was late afternoon by this stage and so we decided to go for a walk. Obviously.  We (broadly) followed a recommendation from Ian Burley (you’ll remember – of course! – that we met him as we walked around Menorca a year ago) for a stroll around parts of the city.  The walk started on the terrace outside the hotel

which also gives an opportunity to see quite what a monster the hotel is.  The terrace is a pleasant boardwalk in a nice environment

with the occasional surprise, like this toboggan run (winters only, of course)

and, at the end, a really quite substantial set of steps up to Quebec’s Citadel.

Our route took us across the Plains of Abraham (no, not that one, actually; more likely a Scottish fisherman who came here early in the 17th century) which were the scene of a battle between perfidious Albion and those diabolical Frenchies in 1759 as the two nations struggled for control of an extremely important strategic location.  Then we went past the National Assembly building

(very imposing, and much more pleasant on the eye than the government buildings opposite),

and one of the historic gates into the city (St. Louis Gate).

It was almost impossible for me to shake off the feeling of being in Paris.  On one side of the street you could find a charming row of houses and brasseries,

and, directly opposite, great brutalist slabs of masonry;

inexplicable bits of statuary;

attempts to disguise, with a mural

a ghastly block of modern masonry;

and some really charming buildings.

We ended up walking along the Rue St. Jean, sadly by now in the dark, as it looks like it would be really interesting to see in the daylight, past the building site outside the cathedral and back towards the hotel. Québec is clearly going to be an interesting place to look around

despite the appalling solecism of having a Christmas Shop.

This was one of the giveaways that we were not, actually, in Paris; the other was that walking along Rue St. Jean was accompanied by the smells emanating from innumerable popcorn and ice-cream parlours – an ineluctable part of being anywhere near retail establishments in North America.

All in all, it was a pleasant and interesting introduction to somewhere which clearly has a great deal of historical interest to accompany its undoubted charm.  We will hardly scratch the surface in our forthcoming two days here, but it’ll be nice to aim for some degree of insight.

Tomorrow, we are promised, on our itinerary, “A Fabulous Country Tour” and, by the weather forecast, wind and rain.  Who knows how it will go?  Answer: you will, but only if you check back in to these pages to find out.

 

End of Part II – well, nearly

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Friday 9 September 2022 – We departed the UK one month ago and we return thither in one month’s time. Our time in Jasper marks the end of Part II – the Rocky Mountains Bit – and it’s been excellent. Part I – the Rugged North West and Wildlife Bit – took three weeks, which was relatively leisurely; Part II has been more full-on.

So we declared today a rest day.

We had originally considered visiting a couple of nearby lakes or taking an easy hike, but the lure of a lazy day proved stronger. Also, we had thought to go into Jasper itself and report back to Brendan, our long-suffering travel agent in the UK, about what it was really like in Jasper (which still has no power; we’d overheard a group yesterday discussing how they were moving on from Jasper because their hotel had no heating and no hot water). That plan got scuppered by a shuttle bus which departed too early.

Since the sun was shining, we took the opportunity to walk around the (considerable) grounds of the Lodge. It’s very photogenic.

We had some other encounters:

in the Smokehouse, where they serve breakfast, a Bison’s head (making this not so much a Breakfast Bowl as a Breakfast Bison);

A statue that can’t bear weight;

next door to it, an Eagle statue;

a greedy squirrel, stuffing his face with pine nuts;

and a Loon, also called a Great Northern Diver in Europe.

Sorry about the Loon photo, but that’s the best my camera could do. Also observing it, though, was a chap called Neil who was not so much a Loon enthusiast as a Loon obsessive; he even described himself as such. We had a very pleasant chat with him about these remarkable birds. He had a very expensive-looking long lens and video setup and was pulling together a four-minute piece on some aspect of the birds. The Loon is depicted on the Canadian one-dollar coin, which is why they’re called Loonies. That knowledge will win you a pub quiz one day, see if it doesn’t.

The main objective of our stroll, though, was to see a particular group of cabins, collectively called Outlook Cabin.

The reason for our interest was that these cabins were used during one of the many visits to Canada by HM Queen Elizabeth and her retinue, because they offered peace and a degree of isolation. Apparently she liked the Park Lodge for its tranquility; in the light of the news of her death, it seemed appropriate to visit it.

And that was the extent of our activity today, resulting in a mercifully short blog entry. Reader, you can have time off for good behaviour.

Tomorrow we embark on Part III, which is largely a series of successively easterly city visits. We start with a drive to Edmonton. The only thing I knew about it was that it was where Wayne Gretsky, a world-famous ice hockey player, expounded his art, playing for the Edmonton Oilers, a team name which doesn’t somehow convey the image of a chic place. However, we’ve chatted with a couple of hotel staff who are from Edmonton, and it sounds like an interesting town with a few ITTDs. We also have a few digressions en route, so we’re back to relentless tourism after our day panting in the shade. I hope you’ll come back to read about them as we go.

End of Part One

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August 29 2022 – Today marked the end of the rugged-north-west-and-wildlife section of our time in North America, as we left Whitehorse for Vancouver. It’s been a full-on three weeks (except for the boring waiting around for things to happen bits, of course) and it will be rather nice to have three days in Vancouver with nothing on the agenda! We can please ourselves as to where we go and what we do. Bet we end up walking a lot, though.

Anyways, we woke to a morning of slightly uncertain-looking weather, with showers forecast. Nonetheless, Jane suggested we go for a walk, so off we went. We headed for the pioneers’ graveyard

at which point it looked like it might come on to rain. I wimped out at this point, not least because I had a blog to write, and Jane carried on with her original plan, to climb the Black Street Steps,

all 250-odd of ’em. The view from the top was recommended, but, frankly, had too many things in the way to make it very rewarding.

The steps feature a side section which allows for pushing e.g. a bike up the steps,

which looks rather like hard work; Jane reports that this chap was suffering somewhat as he laboured up the steps.

The route back to the hotel led past some interesting houses,

some unsuspected lanes running parallel to the surfaced roads,

and some colourful touches.

(Above is a mural outside the Yukon Chamber of Mining.)

Jane joined me in the hotel restaurant, which we discovered sold Empress Gin,

and we had a lunch which featured enormous portions in the hope that it would keep us going for the rest of the day (which it largely did, actually).

Then it was time to get the shuttle to the airport, which sounds straightforward but wasn’t. We thought we’d booked a shuttle at 2.45, which was about right for a 4.45 flight. But the hotel reception told us that there was no shuttle at 2.45, only at 1.15 or 5pm, so we put ourselves down for the 1.15, of course. Came 1.15, but no shuttle. We spoke to the receptionist, who disappeared backstage and the next thing, the driver appeared and said, “I’ll go get the bus”. On the way, he asked us which flight we were on, and when we told him it was at 4.45, he seemed surprised that we weren’t on the 2.45 shuttle – which he was going to drive!

Whitehorse airport is, like Port Hardy, too small to support a café in the departure area, but sophisticated enough to have mains and USB charging by the seating. We had a longish wait, since we’d got there early, so the charging points and the free WiFi were very welcome.

The flight back to Vancouver passed pleasantly enough. We were right at the back, which I don’t normally care for, but there was adequate legroom and it was perfectly comfortable. Conversation with the chap next to us passed the time very nicely – he was a resident of Whitehorse going (with wife and four kids!) to visit family in Vancouver – and Jane took some photos out of the window, as conditions were clear.

Shortly after take off, we passed the hydro dam (bottom left)

and you can see the dam itself (we visited it two days ago, remember?) and the waterfall to the left of it – the barrier forcing returning salmon into the ladder which runs back and then forth past the dam. I think this photo gives a good idea of how long that salmon ladder really is (nearly a quarter of a mile).

Here are some of the other photos Jane took.

the Yukon River;

an interesting cloudbow;

some lumpy bits;

some lumpy bits with snow on them;

and finally downtown Vancouver, with the cruise terminal and Stanley Park to the left of the picture, the colourful port in the centre and Grouse Mountain to the top right.

When we arrived in the baggage hall, I noticed with some bemusement that the baggage carousel numbering started from 0. I really don’t know why, but there it is.

Our bags turned up eventually, as did a driver to take us the 30-minute journey into town and we found ourselves once again at the Fairmont Waterfront, just three floors higher than last time.

I expect that the next three days will take a toll on our shoe leather, but the weather outlook is very good, so I’m looking forward to exploring the place further. Assuming that happens, I may well take some photos, in which case they may well find their way on to these pages, should you wish to come back and check them out. See you soon, I hope.