Le dernier jour

Sigh… I’ve tried to ignore it, deny it, distract myself from it, but today I am finally forced to accept the stone cold truth: this is our last full day in Québec.

Yesterday we had our last group lunch at the Parlementaire de Québec. Our fancy food was excellent and fresh; nearly all the vegetables came from the parliament’s gardens. Après the long lunch and a nap, some of us decided we wanted to go back one last time to Montmorency Falls. We packed a blanket and some snacks and caught the bus mid-afternoon. First, we went to our favorite spot on the rocks to hang out and dip our feet in the freezing river water. I went all the way in up to my thighs, much to the terror of my friends – the current was a tiny bit strong. Silly friends, I know what I’m doing. Sort of.

We then ventured to the meadow where we played Spades into the night. Though a full moon was out (cue the werewolf howls), it quickly became way too dark to play. We all just lay there, talking and watching the orange-red lights of the city glimmer over the St. Lawrence. A few lightning strikes lit up the sky a few times, and the air began to feel heavy and hinted of rain. After feeling a few drops, we  collectively realized that we should probably leave before all hell broke loose. As we scurried on the path back to the bus stop, the heavens opened up on us.

You haven’t really lived if you’ve never been caught in a rainstorm. In the last three weeks, this has happened several times to us, but not over a waterfall. We ran across the bridge over it, whooping and hollering in the monsoon the entire way. It was awesomely terrifying. As you can probably tell by the fact that I’ve written this blog, we made it back, safe and sound.

Without carrying on too much longer, here are some more of my favorite photos I’ve collected over this journey of mine.

On a different note, being immersed in this culture so full of flavor and vibrancy has taught me more than I ever expected. Though my French certainly still needs work, mes yeux have been opened to a literal world of possibility that comes with knowing this gorgeous language. Québec City – my mentor and friend. I’m going to miss you so much.

Bon temps à la Chute-Montmorency

Yesterday, our group took a twenty minute bus ride to the outskirts of la ville de Québec to explore Montmorency Falls and its surrounding park. Lately, the weather in Québec has been a bit rainy, gray, chilly, and blah, but the day stayed at a constant 70°F (21.1°C , yeah Canada!) and the sky a cloudless blue – a day so perfect it was almost suspicious.

Upon entering the park, we were soon met with the intense roar of the fall. I felt a giddy sense of anticipation to see what exactly could produce such a big sound…

I can’t really remember what I expected, but it was most certainly not this. (For the record, the above picture was taken when we had ventured much further into the park. When we first saw the falls, we were on the bridge directly above it. I repeat, above it.)

There are no words sufficient enough to describe the magnificence that is Chute-Montmorency. It was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, and I don’t use that phrase lightly.

Anyway, after spending some time on the bridge enjoying the waterfall, we crossed to the other side to further explore the park. We ended up taking an off-road path that led us through the forest and eventually to a large expanse of rock on the rapids. Off went our shoes and on to the rocks we went! I clambered down pretty easily, considering my high level of skill at tripping/falling, and dipped my feet into the freezing waters. We sun-bathed and chatted in franglais with some Québecois boys with a cute kitten, the latter definitely being the main point of interest.

After a couple of hours, we left the rock and hiked back to the main path and on stairs leading down the mountain alongside Montmorency Falls. At the end of the long, winding flight of stairs, half our group walked left away from the falls, while the rest of us ventured right to get as close to the waterfall as possible. When I got to the end railing, the intense spray soaked me in a matter of seconds. It was exhilarating to actually touch this infinitely powerful and unbridled force of nature. I was more than an admiring onlooker.

I was a part of Chute-Montmorency.   

La moitié

Two weeks today in Quebec City. What? We’ve reached la moitié of our trip with only a week and some change left before we have to go back home to the States. I have been a rather lazy blogger, but I have a decent excuse; I’ve been busy wandering through every museum, restaurant, bookstore, and all other nooks and crannies of the city I can get to.

Seven of us wore ourselves out last night after going to a drag show for the first time. It was ridiculously fun of course, but on a more serious note, it gave us a new kind of insight into the French-Canadian culture. The locals immediately singled us out as les américaines. None of us identify as the “typical American”, brash and boisterous. I’ve identified with and enjoyed the quiet ways of the locals, but at the bar, we were the loudest singers and dancers. Whoops. Excusez-nous, Québéc…

Today has been a wonderfully relaxing day, thanks to getting a free day (merci beaucoup Prof Forrest!). A small group of us lazily explored a huge market place close to our hotel. It had tons of fresh fruit, vegetables, flowers, jewelry, random trinkets, and of course, every form of maple syrup that exists. Canadians do not kid around with the sirop d’érable, mmk. Here’s a pic of one corner of the market:

We then wandered over to the Montreal-Quebec train station, the breathtaking and huge Gare du Palais, where we took this super hip photo. From left to right: Erin, Candace, me, Grace, and Brittany.

La Gare du Palais

Finally, we stumbled into the Céramic Café. We painted pottery pieces – to be fired in a kiln later and then picked up for keepsies – whilst drinking café au lait. I painted a tiny flower pot. Once we get them back, I’ll try to remember to post some pics of our little souvenirs.

Random, but it wouldn’t be right to blog about Quebec without talking about the poutine. Though I really hope you aren’t the deprived soul who doesn’t know what this miraculous feat of humanity is (not that I didn’t two weeks ago or anything), I’ll explain it anyway: 1) Fries 2) Gravy 3) Cheese curds.

POUTINE

Also, last week, when we are at the mall by Université Laval, a few of us got Starbucks coffees with some interesting names. This further confirms my hypothesis that Starbucks employees can’t spell in any country. *Onie *Mary *Tracey (Sheisy?….I have no words for this)

Saying no to The Rolling Stones

If someone were to tell me that I missed seeing The Rolling Stones and Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes at the Québécois Festival d’été, for which I had a ticket, I would tell that person that they were insane. Or peut-être that I was insane. How could someone just pass up that kind of opportunity?! Just… Non.

Well, mes amis, I’ll tell you how.

Last night, about half our group indeed had all the intent in the world to go to le Festival d’été. A few of us had already been a few nights ago to see Icona Pop and Iggy Azalea, and even though those artists aren’t my favorite, it was novel and cool and nice to be with new friends. Anyway, we settled on eating at this up-scale café before the 21:30 concerts (military time won my heart, sorry). When we first arrived in Quebec, our attempts to speak French were met with stereotypical disdain from some of the natives. As the trip has progressed, however, we apparently have found better people; our waitress, Geneviève, kindly let us practice our French on her while patiently correcting and giving us feedback. Elle était formidable. We stayed at the café eating and chatting until 22:00.

At this point, we realized we would essentially have to sprint to make it to the end of either concert (the bands played at the same time), so instead we finally tried our first taste of the nightlife. Ow owwwww! Le Drague, where we wound up, was where I had my first karaoke experience. A few Parisians conned me into singing “Counting Stars” with them, and my lovely, oh-so-considerate friends decided to video it. Harrumph. I still haven’t figured out how to exact my revenge, but worry not: it’s coming.

Making friends with random French-speaking strangers, bonding with my MSU buds, dancing until 3 in the morning in a foreign country – these are the times that can’t be planned out and penciled into schedules.

La ville parfaite?

I have come to the conclusion that Quebec has a near-perfect city structure. I’m not one to believe in utopias, but this place is pretty close. Everything – the lawns, the flower boxes, the trim on the outside of the doors, the traffic, even the people – is all so immaculately manicured and maintained.

The last few days have been packed with visits to museums and the beautiful campus of Université Laval, delicious café and food (considering dedicating a singular post just for food), and a ton of super intense hill walking. When I get back, no one will ever be able to claim that I skip leg day.

Here are a few pictures from our visit to La Musée des Beaux-Arts de Québec. Unfortunately, an iPhone 5 can only do so much….and thank goodness, because it’s this limitation of technology that makes seeing it with my own eyes so much more incroyable.

L’Orme à Pont-Viau, par Marc-Aurèle Fortin

Symphonie pathétique, par Marc-Aurèle de Foy Suzor-Côté

Art.

En fin, I’ll leave you with my favorite photo thus far, taken by our dear T.A., Felipe.

Swinging in the Parc des Champs de Bataille

Exhaustion of the best kind

Though today is my third day in Quebec City, Canada, it marks the very first day I have had a chance to finally breathe and write. Ever since I woke up at 3 am in Memphis on July 10^th to now, I feel like I’ve been caught up in a tornado.

I am travelling for a French immersion program with a group of twelve awesome people, all of us from Mississippi State University. It’s funny to me – we’re a super diverse mix of people, with different majors and hometowns and experiences and preferences, and yet within the span of a couple days, we’ve already become une petite famille. Anyway, before I get too ahead of myself (as this blog progresses, you will probably notice my ramble game is a bit strong. Oops.), let me try to hash out everything that’s happened in the last 60 hours or so.

Our flight to Newark and then to Quebec City was pretty unremarkable except for the plane itself. On both flights we travelled in the same super tiny prop-plane. At first I was like, ooh! Less people, perhaps that means more comfort! Lies. All lies. I’m on the tallish-for-a-girl side(5’9”), so I had an awesome time hitting the ceiling every time I stood up from my seat. Ugh, and the plane had these screechy, demon brakes…I think I can speak for the entire group that those things were an absolute atrocity. I had thoughts of them just falling out of the plane, and us rolling into some building or something else large and, ya know, solid. Also, the plane’s bathroom… Actually nevermind. Memory blocked.

Once we landed and travelled through customs, we all piled into a few cabs to take us to our hotel. The cabbie was accidentally hilarious; he used up most of his English in greeting us, and so he popped in a CD to make us feel more at home and to fill the silence, I guess. The CD was TERRIBLE. It was some bubblegum rap-rock group with ridiculously, and I mean ridiculously, vulgar lyrics. I really don’t believe the cabbie had any idea just how awful the music he played us was, which made everything even funnier. I sat right beside the guy, and so I essentially stared out the window the entire time with a hand over my mouth trying to stifle giggles.

Hotel Manoir Des Remparts, where we’re staying, is absolutely incredible. We have the kindest hosts, and the hotel is so quaint, so cozy, so charming – we couldn’t be happier. Later, when the shaky wifi isn’t trying to abort my blogging mission, I’ll upload photos of the hotel, though they likely won’t do it justice.

On a side note, blogging is difficult for me. Writing is one of my hobbies, but I’m used to either formal essays or personal journal entries. With this blog, I realize that I sort of have to bridge the two. I find it overwhelming to try and find the right words to describe some of these experiences; articulating something that feels infinite without coming off as cliché is so hard for me.

So much more has happened, but we are about to leave for lunch.

The shenaniganery continues.