Oh, Canada...
As for what else has happened this week... where did I leave off? Ah, I'd arrived in Campbellton, New Brunswick. What I didn't get to share last week was the fireworks display that such a small town put on for Canada Day. Campbelltonians like their fireworks, it seems.Just keep breathing. Just keep breathing.
The next morning, Shula and I took a drive to Sugarloaf Mountain, which sits just next to the town. Well, we tried to and ended up driving straight past the car park, pootling along a windy road for 15 minutes before deciding we must have gone wrong somewhere. Got there eventually.
It having rained all night and all the paths being a bit on the slippery side, we thought we'd stick to just the base walk. Then we saw the path to the summit and thought, what the hell, we'll give it a go.
And promptly discovered that I am a hell of a lot more unfit than I thought. An entire 5 minutes up the hill, if that, we had to turn around because I was going all light headed and woo. Not fun.
That said, the base walk was lovely. Saw some squirrels. Also some ducks.
Also midges, which resulted in me DEETing ALL THE THINGS in an attempt to avert another few nights of horrible itchy arms. It worked.
And then it was time to say goodbye to our trusty little Chevy Spark, christened Jools by virtue of the number plate.
Unfortunately, this was the point at which we discovered that a) there's not a whole lot to do in Campbellton when you don't have a car and b) the weather is a pain. Bucketed down most of the afternoon, so I got some writing done and then we cooked a delicious stir fry to make up for the horrific looking mess I'd cooked in Charlottetown a few days before.
Where train?!
Our final day in Campbellton was a bit of a non-event. Nothing seemed to be open, it being a Sunday and as I mentioned above, there's not a whole lot in the town anyway. Shula left at lunchtime to get a bus to her next destination and I was left waiting in the hostel because, being the genius I am, I'd booked a train to Quebec. Which left at 11:18pm. Clever me.I managed to kill a few hours getting some more writing done (yay, magic that actually obeys rules) and keeping tabs on the Iceland-France game at the Euros. I'll admit, I'm not hugely into football, but Iceland ended up having such a lovely underdog story, plus obviously I was only in the country a few weeks ago. I was disappointed for them to go out, but they really fought for it from what I could see as a non-football fan. And their homecoming was amazing. I can't get the BBC site to give me an embed link, but if you just click through, you'll see HOW AWESOME THE ICELANDERS ARE.
Anyway, after finally dumping my bag at the station, killing another couple of hours in Tim Hortons (free wifi!) and then another couple at the station, I finally got onto my train at nearly midnight.
Thought I was in the wrong class. Seriously, I should have taken a photo but I was knackered and just wanted to sleep. Big comfy chairs, all the leg room... but still economy.
I should have been able to sleep right through until I got to Sainte-Foy, but the air con unit was just across from me and spent all night blowing cold air at my legs. I think I got about 3 or 4 hours altogether. Better than trying to sleep on planes, I suppose.
Oh, and I should mention that we had to wait outside Sainte-Foy station for about 45 minutes so that a freight train could pass us. I started wondering if I was just having a really weird dream about the train being stuck, but it turned up eventually. Urgh.
Then got picked up at Sainte-Foy by the taxi-van service, with a lovely driver who took us a slightly scenic route to point out interesting things. I suspect he was expecting a tip, but I only thought of that afterwards. Hope I didn't offend him.
Je ne comprends pas...
I spent most of the day lounging in the hostel, initially trying not to sleep before I gave in to a 3 hour nanna nap. I don't like napping, it makes me feel sick, so this is a good indication of how tired I was.After the nap and still feeling not altogether with it, I headed to a little fast food place the driver had recommended for poutine. This is a predominantly Quebecois thing, as far as I can tell and consists of french fries topped with cheese curds and smothered in gravy. So, I pootled into the highly recommended Chez Ashton and being brave, asked the girl behind the counter:
"Parlez-vous anglais?"
I had a moment to be proud that I'd remembered some French before the girl shook her head. Ah. How hard can this be, I thought, looking at the menu. I'll just have the regular poutine. Then all I have to say is regular poutine.
"Regular poutine, s'il vois plait."
Having since put that through Google Translate, I know it's a bit garbled, but she seemed to understand what I meant. Unfortunately, she then asked me something I couldn't even guess at. I thought I'd heard the word ayer which threw me, because that's the Spanish term for yesterday.
In hindsight, I should have been able to pick out ici, which means here and extrapolated from that "eat in or takeaway?" But I didn't. I just did the apologetic smile and shrug routine while she got a colleague to come over and translate.
Oh dear.
Anyway, I ended up with my poutine eventually and it was delicious. Need to have it again. Om nom nom.
And then I slept. A lot.
"You speak English? I can tell from the bonjour."
Fortunately, my second day in beautiful Quebec City started out a lot better. Breakfast was included at the hostel, which meant I got to have freshly cooked pancakes with lashings of maple syrup. HEAVEN. And yes, it has been pointed out to me that I mention food a lot in this blog. I KNOW. I LIKE FOOD.Sufficiently full of carbs and sugar, I toddled off into Quebec's quaint old town area in search of La Citadelle. Instead I got sidetracked by Artillery Park and it's little museum. Some cool little artefacts from Quebec's past, including this otherwise plain pot which claims Russian bear grease will help your hair to grow.
And this amazingly huge model of Quebec as it was in the early 19th Century.
Entrance to the museum also included entrance to the Dauphine Redoubt, one of the early parts of Quebec's fortifications. Did I mention that Quebec is the only city in North America with a nearly intact defensive wall? No? Well it is.
Anyway, the redoubt was also very interesting, apart from this room which was like creepy mannequin mirrored room of creepiness. I ran away pretty much as soon as I took this photo.
I hate mannequins.
Moving swiftly on. after my toddling round the museum and redoubt, I made another attempt to find La Citadelle. It couldn't be that hard - it's the biggest fort in North America and right on top of the hill. So I walked up the hill as far as I could and ended up finding tourist central. I ran away. Too many people.
Instead I found my way to Montmorency Park. Only a little place, but it was beautifully quiet and sunny, so I made myself at home on a bench for an hour and tried to learn some more French. While I was there, I spotted this little note on the next bench along which just made me smile.
And helpfully, I didn't make any more notes for this day. I don't remember anything else happening. Mostly just more writing, I think... Oh, wait. I went into Notre-Dame Cathedral. Very pretty.
No matter how much you poke them, they're not going to move
The next day I did finally make it to La Citadelle after a bit of a hike up the hill. It has a very interesting museum about the history of the Royal 22e Regiment, the only Francophone regiment in the Canadian army. It also includes a whole lot of medals, including 3 Victoria Crosses awarded to members of the regiment, housed under this beautiful ceiling.
Entrance to La Citadelle also includes a guided tour of the fort. It's still an active military base, so they're not just going to let you wander round on your own. Highlight of this was probably the great view you get from the walls, given that the fort is situated on pretty much the highest point of the city.
I also noted, on the way out, that the guards stand sentry in British infantry red. Which of course results in the classic "tourist-trying-to-make-the-guardsman-move" game. Poor buggers.
From La Citadelle, I took a bit of a meandering path back to the hostel, taking in some of the city walls on the way.
Ducktor Scully
My final day in Quebec started with rain. Lots of rain. I didn't make it out of the hostel until after lunch time because it was pissing it down all morning. Eventually, I made it to the Musee de la Civilisation by the waterfront, where I found some lovely exhibitions of Native Canadian history and also of Aboriginal Australian art. No photos of either of these, the former because it wasn't allowed and the latter because I didn't even think to get my camera out.I did manage to get my camera out when I found the nanotechnology exhibition, though. A very basic introduction to nanotech and the many applications, including some historic ones such as the carbon nanotubes now known to be integral to the famous strength of Damascus steel.
Bad picture of shiny sword is bad.
Also, plenty of pop-culture references. The exhibition gives you the option to answer a series of questions about your attitudes towards nanotech and its applications. You answer using a rubber duck with a chip in it. Mine was named Scully, because I just couldn't resist.
There was also a Spock, Yoda and Leeloo. Good taste, whoever named the ducks.
Keeping with the pop-culture. there was also a model Terminator and Iron Man.
Oh yeah. Geekery ahoy.
It's like the Tube. But easier.
This morning, I discovered that I'd misplaced my toiletries bag. The nice little one my mum gave me with the little 100ml bottles that would go through airport security. I think I left it in the bathroom but it was no where to be found and the hostel owner didn't know if anything had been handed in as lost property. I figure it was probably moved by a cleaner, because seriously, who's going to steal a few bottles of toiletries? Still a bit pissed off though. I liked that bag.Anyway, rant aside, this morning I got a bus from Quebec to Montreal. Mostly uneventful apart from the somewhat awkward conversation the lady next to me tried to have. Bless her, she was obviously trying to be friendly but her English wasn't great and my French is even worse.
I am also very impressed with myself because I managed to navigate Montreal's metro without the slightest hitch. To be honest, it's a very simple network, nowhere near as many lines as the London Underground and the lady at the ticket desk was very helpful with regards to passes. Go me.
So, here I am in Montreal. I have five days booked here for now, although it's such a big place I might end up having to extend my stay.
After Montreal... back to anglophone Canada?
