Quebec

Before arriving in Quebec we’d spent three weeks house and puppy sitting for our friends in New York City over Christmas and New Year while they went home to Australia. While we endured temperatures well below freezing, we didn’t get any snow and so we were really looking forward to arriving in a city blanketed in snow.

But the city hasn’t had the amount of snow that it usually would at this time of year. This seems to be happening everywhere, all of the time now, as people describe the unusual circumstances of the weather patterns across the globe. Although, as I write this a few days into our trip now, I am watching something of a blizzard developing outside, white flakes swirling in gushes beyond the window, a powdery layer of snow building up on the balcony of my accommodation. Perhaps winter has finally arrived in Quebec City.

Our patience was tested as our flight to Toronto kept being delayed, an hour at a time, every hour or so. We had risen early and after we had eaten both breakfast and lunch at the airport and still had no confidence of our departure time, we were feeling like we might never make it to Quebec. We were pushed onto a later flight for our second fight from Toronto to Quebec but even that connection became every tight. In the end, that flight was also repeatedly delayed and so after 13 hours we eventually arrived at Quebec City, about five hours later than expected.

Dylan’s work colleague Philippe and his wife Marie kindly picked us up at the airport and then dropped us at our accommodation. After a quick shower and change of clothes we went for a late dinner at a nearby pub called London Jack. Predictably, as the name suggests, it was a British-themed pub, serving classic British pub feeds, as well as some Quebecois classics. I sceptically ordered the poulet au beurre (butter chicken), but it turned out to be delicious.

Philippe invited us to go the next day with Marie and their son to see the seasonal Ice Hotel. We loved our experience at the Ice Hotel in Sweden and so were keen to see it. Plus, it wasn’t something we would have been able to do ourselves since it was some drive out of the city.

We ordered a cocktail from the bar and then walked around to view the amazing suites. One amazing room was a Santa’s reindeer theme, which depicted Santa and his reindeer inside a barn surrounded by bow-wrapped presents. My favourite though was a space-themed room with a space ship ice bed, astronauts, a giant moon carved into the wall and peep hole windows with a view of an ice-carved solar system.

That evening Dylan and I went for drinks at the 1608 bar in the famous Chateau Frontenac before an exceptional dinner at JJacques, an oyster bar and restaurant. The oysters were wasted on us, but the meals and cocktails that we had were incredible.

On Monday I was preparing myself to begin a week of sightseeing and recommencing my abandoned exercise regime, but shortly after I got up, I pinched a nerve in my neck, which rendered me motionless on the couch binge watching Disney’s Andor all day. Tuesday followed in a similar fashion. I was now ploughing my way through the original Star Wars movies, but was mobile enough to go our for dinner to Louise Taverne & Bar à Vin. The staff were very friendly here and I happily enjoyed speaking French with the waiter as he served our food and took our orders.

By Wednesday my neck was still sore but good enough for me to go on the winter walking tour that I had booked. It was -14°C that day so rugged up in my thermals, newly purchased snowboarding bib from Burton in NYC, knee-length puffer jacket, and toe-warmers in my boots, I tentatively ventured outside. I met up with the tour guide and rest of the group and we explored Quebec City for the next 2.5 hours.

We learnt all about the city’s fascinating history, from arrival of the French in 1608, the relationships with First Nations Algonquin people, the take over by the British and the critical role of the Catholic Church in maintaining the French language despite the British conquest in 1759. Quebec City is a quaint city, perched high on a cliff top overlooking the St Lawrence River, the old city still fortified and its encapsulated winding streets made of cobblestone. It has a very European feel but the culture is neither French nor Canadian. It is distinctly Québecois.

That night, Dylan and I went for dinner at the famous Le Continental, where they serve flambé meals prepared at the tableside so you can enjoy watching your filet mignon being cooked in pristine copper pots put up in flames with a generous splash of cognac.

We also had dinner with a group of Dylan’s work colleagues at a restaurant, Aux Anciens Canadiens, which is situated in the oldest building in Quebec City, standing since 1675. It had been snowing heavily all day and by nightfall, the city was covered in 30cm of fresh snow. The roads and footpaths had yet to be ploughed so when we left the restaurant after dinner, we took Philippe up on his offer to drive us back to our accommodation.

All night, snow continued to fall so that by morning, the city had truly become a winter wonderland. It was our last full day in Quebec City, and Dylan fortunately also had the day off work, and so we had a fun snow day.

In the morning we wandered through the old town, walking through little squares and meandering alleyways, viewing the beautiful city murals and the Quartier Petit Champlain, a narrow cobblestoned street with quaint boutiques that is very Diagon Alley-esque.

By noon, we were a little damp and our cheeks very rosy, and so we escaped the cold for a few hours inside the beautiful 17th century underground wine cellar-turned-tavern, Pub L’Oncle Antoine. We sat by the fire drying off, enjoying cider and beer, maple whiskey shots and warming french onion soup.

Warm and dry, we headed back outside, flurries still heavily swirling. We rode the funiculaire up to the cliff top of the city. By now, the snow was falling fast and with the temperature a little warmer, it felt as though tiny ice crystals were pelting our faces. We were now eager to reach our warm destination for the afternoon’s activity. But first, we had to get there. With no Ubers or taxis around we had no choice but to continue walking.

We planned to walk through the cliff-top park and then back down the cap-blanc staircase to reach our destination at the edge of the river. But the walk turned out to be a lot more difficult than we anticipated, the city now blanketed in an ever-increasing layer of snow, and the ploughing not yet underway. When we reached the park, the paths had disappeared and so we had to find our way through knee deep powder, without the appropriate footwear for the task. To emphasise quite how amiss in this whitening landscape we were, the only other people in the park were children tobogganing and a man cross-country skiing.

We continued on, trudging through deep snow, and found the staircase on the other side of the park. Thankfully there were people already there shovelling the snow, so we could descend the 398 steps with only a mild amount of difficulty.

And so we arrived, rather wet and a little cold, at the Strøm Spa Nordique feeling very ready for our afternoon of thermal indulgence. Over the next few hours we enjoyed pure tranquility sitting in outdoor thermal pools, our hair freezing slightly in the cold air while our bodies remained warmly cocooned in 39°C water, sweating it out in the saunas, and listening to underwater meditation music as we floated in the underground flotation pool.

Feeling completely relaxed, we left the spa and spent our final evening at Les Salles Gosses for dinner. The following morning, we finished packing our suitcases and then walked through the snow, dragging three suitcases, to get to the train station. From there, we took a beautiful three hour train journey south to Montreal, where we would spend one fancy night at the Sofitel before commencing the long journey home. On the train we were served a hot lunch as we watched the snow-covered landscape glide past the windows.

Our flight out of Montreal was at 6pm the following day so we made the most of our final night of the trip at a fantastic neighbourhood, speakeasy called Atwater Cocktail Club. We sat at the bar and ordered cocktails from the menu, classics and a number of the bartender’s choosing. They also served restaurant-quality food in collaboration with the neighbouring restaurant Foiegwa and so we spent a long evening of dinner and drinks, and a couple of shots from the bartender, hoping we wouldn’t regret it the next morning before our 22 hour flight home.