Tuesday 9/30/2008
Into Quebec
It is a gray morning as we pull out of Ottawa on the road to Montreal and as soon as we cross the Ottawa River we are in a foreign land. We have been to Quebec before and we are always surprised to be in a French speaking province. Intellectually we know that it is true but emotionally we like to think it is only an affectation like in an old Russian novel. Throughout Ontario and especially in Ottawa every sign was bilingual in an effort to be accommodating to their fellow Canadians. No such thing in Quebec. The traffic signs, billboards, and informational signs are French only.
In Quebec there are French and English schools, but only children with one or both parents from another Canadian Province can attend the English school. If your parents are from Quebec or from another country you will be attending the French school system. In both systems the “other” language is taught from first grade on so most younger Quebecois are truly bi-lingual. Of course if we are emotionally surprised about the language, it is nothing compared to the surprise of the Quebecois that they are Canadian.
It is a lovely drive through rolling farmland and treed hillsides on the north shore of the Ottawa River eastbound to Montreal. We put off lunch for a long time to work up our courage to do the French thing and finally stop at a roadside restaurant in Plasance, about midway on our trip. A lady behind the counter gives a “bon jour” followed by more words and we think she is telling us to sit anywhere. We are one for one so far. When she gets to our table it goes downhill. Her English is right up there with our French and after a while of going through the specials with gestures and animal sounds John finally gets the Coquille St. Jacques and Mary the Chef salad. John gets multiple courses and when the server offers dessert (we think) he gives her his best “im-pah-see-bluh.” She is mildly amused.
Our wont to take country roads on these trips backfires as we find ourselves coming into Montreal without the benefit of major highways and we poke all the way through town with red lights and side streets and hit downtown proper at the height of rush hour. The Princess finally gets our bearings and we are able to waltz through downtown directly to our hotel and right into the parking garage.
Our hotel (Holiday Inn Select) certainly used to be something else. It is at the entrance to China Town on the doorstep of Old Montreal, and is built in a pagoda style with fish ponds and a Chinese Restaurant inside. Our info book in the room tells us that the construction complied with the elements of Feng Shui so we will be free of evil spirits and have a harmonious flow of energy. Since the market came back a bit today we are buying into the theory. Whatever it takes.
We get a recommendation for dinner from the concierge and hit a local bistro. It is not the one he recommended (which we can’t find) but is good nonetheless. Mary has a burger with fries and John gets the BLT which is really a halibut with bacon and tomato. The sandwiches are very good and the fries that come in a waxed-paper bag inside of an old-style metal pint measuring cup are perfect. The beers are good too!
As we start our walk back to the hotel we see the recommended bistro right next to the one where we ate. No sign except the name on the awning. Oh well. Our only concern here is that there is a park across the street from the hotel that has a lot of overnight inhabitants. One fellow was obviously offended by one of the trees and was trying to rip it’s branches off while screaming at it. It could have been worse—he could have had a chain saw. No problem (ne pas problem) so far.
Into Quebec
It is a gray morning as we pull out of Ottawa on the road to Montreal and as soon as we cross the Ottawa River we are in a foreign land. We have been to Quebec before and we are always surprised to be in a French speaking province. Intellectually we know that it is true but emotionally we like to think it is only an affectation like in an old Russian novel. Throughout Ontario and especially in Ottawa every sign was bilingual in an effort to be accommodating to their fellow Canadians. No such thing in Quebec. The traffic signs, billboards, and informational signs are French only.
In Quebec there are French and English schools, but only children with one or both parents from another Canadian Province can attend the English school. If your parents are from Quebec or from another country you will be attending the French school system. In both systems the “other” language is taught from first grade on so most younger Quebecois are truly bi-lingual. Of course if we are emotionally surprised about the language, it is nothing compared to the surprise of the Quebecois that they are Canadian.
It is a lovely drive through rolling farmland and treed hillsides on the north shore of the Ottawa River eastbound to Montreal. We put off lunch for a long time to work up our courage to do the French thing and finally stop at a roadside restaurant in Plasance, about midway on our trip. A lady behind the counter gives a “bon jour” followed by more words and we think she is telling us to sit anywhere. We are one for one so far. When she gets to our table it goes downhill. Her English is right up there with our French and after a while of going through the specials with gestures and animal sounds John finally gets the Coquille St. Jacques and Mary the Chef salad. John gets multiple courses and when the server offers dessert (we think) he gives her his best “im-pah-see-bluh.” She is mildly amused.
Our wont to take country roads on these trips backfires as we find ourselves coming into Montreal without the benefit of major highways and we poke all the way through town with red lights and side streets and hit downtown proper at the height of rush hour. The Princess finally gets our bearings and we are able to waltz through downtown directly to our hotel and right into the parking garage.
Our hotel (Holiday Inn Select) certainly used to be something else. It is at the entrance to China Town on the doorstep of Old Montreal, and is built in a pagoda style with fish ponds and a Chinese Restaurant inside. Our info book in the room tells us that the construction complied with the elements of Feng Shui so we will be free of evil spirits and have a harmonious flow of energy. Since the market came back a bit today we are buying into the theory. Whatever it takes.
We get a recommendation for dinner from the concierge and hit a local bistro. It is not the one he recommended (which we can’t find) but is good nonetheless. Mary has a burger with fries and John gets the BLT which is really a halibut with bacon and tomato. The sandwiches are very good and the fries that come in a waxed-paper bag inside of an old-style metal pint measuring cup are perfect. The beers are good too!
As we start our walk back to the hotel we see the recommended bistro right next to the one where we ate. No sign except the name on the awning. Oh well. Our only concern here is that there is a park across the street from the hotel that has a lot of overnight inhabitants. One fellow was obviously offended by one of the trees and was trying to rip it’s branches off while screaming at it. It could have been worse—he could have had a chain saw. No problem (ne pas problem) so far.
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