A visit to Quebec provides French fun and a bit of culture shock

After two short flights from Charleston, my husband, Mark, and I felt like we’d arrived in Europe: Quebec.

 

August here is what frustrated Uber drivers call “orange cone season.” It’s the only time it’s warm enough to do road repairs. For us, it was a month away from the Southern heat and a better time to visit than the frigid Canadian winter that requires crampons to walk out the door and holing up in Montreal’s underground city.

 

There was a bit of culture shock.

 

Everyone speaks French. Quebec has a larger percentage of native French speakers than Paris, France. Several were from North Africa, who immigrated under Canada’s Express Entry System that benefits French speakers. I’ve been enjoying the Afropop music they shared with my Pandora.

 

We wondered if we would have problems with the language, but most everyone speaks some English. We used Google Translate occasionally.

 

Would we have problems with politics? Everyone was friendly in a reserved big-city way. “They don’t resent people from the U.S.,” our Quebecois friend Dawn told us. “They feel sorry for you.”

 

The cuisine is a main attraction. It ranges from the sublime (French tasting menus, magnificent pastries, soup bowl-sized lattes, fabulous seafood, and Asian cafes) to the ridiculous (a black slice of seal meat atop a quiche). Lots of pâtés and tartares.

 

A radiant kaleidoscope of fresh produce at Montreal’s Jean Talon Market drew us to the strawberries, and we ate them by the handful. We stocked up on cheeses and travelled to the Île d’Orléans just for the goat milk ice cream.

 

And then there’s the ubiquitous poutine. It’s a conglomeration of French fries topped with cheese curds and gravy plus your choice of meats and vegetables. About 900 calories. We tried it once. That was enough. 

 

Everyone was outside enjoying the weather. I unknowingly booked a VRBO in Montreal’s gay neighborhood, and to add to the excitement, it was Pride Week. Along the pedestrian St. Catherine Street, we strolled by ethnic restaurants, patisseries, and sex shops, while outrageously dressed men competed in relay races, sang karaoke, and played carnival games. Free condoms were dispensed from a wheelbarrow. A guy wearing only a Speedo and a dog mask sang to a boom box. But it was far from the only street scene in Montreal and Quebec City.

 

Most every day offered another cultural festival: French, English, First Nation. There were free concerts and large music festivals. We watched fireworks from our rooftop and bought VIP tickets to see them up close with booming music accompaniment.

 

Montreal is where Cirque du Soleil began as street buskers. We went to their big tent on the riverfront for their astonishing show Luzia. Daredevils juggling chainsaws and fire drew crowds on Quebec City’s waterfront every day.

 

We noticed a few cultural differences.

 

Canada is larger than the United States but the U.S. has eight times the population. “There aren’t as many people to choose from when you start dating,” Dawn told us. So families are very diverse. At the English Language Morrin Center the director told us “There is very little racial purity in Quebec.” Because every family has a mixture of ethnicities and lifestyles, it has created a more tolerant culture.

 

Most bathrooms have private stalls but are coed. One that didn’t, had a sign that read, “Use whichever bathroom you’re most comfortable with.”

 

Dawn pointed out that abortion is legal but “a non-issue;” marijuana is legal “but nobody cares.”

 

We also noticed that several taxes were added to every bill, but our walking tour guide pointed out some of the advantages. Daycare costs her $10 a day, and she’s never needed a car because the transportation system is so convenient.

 

We also noticed how the Indigenous First Nation culture is prominently celebrated. We were told that when the original inhabitants of Canada met the French, they thought the French were stupid because they had to write everything down, and the First Nation People had a rich oral tradition. We learned more by going to a festival, museum, multimedia show and nature walk. It impressed us that before any performance the tribal land of that venue is recognized.

 

Our days were filled with walking. Lots of walking, especially in Quebec, where long staircases lead to the historic district.

 

Along Montreal’s St. Lawrence Street, we strolled through a series of ethnic neighborhoods and past the famous Schwartz’s Deli, where a line two blocks long waited for the smoked meat sandwiches.

 

Montreal’s botanical garden was getting ready for a Garden of Light Festival. Its ponds were full of gigantic luminary animals. An excursion to the waterfalls at Montmorency was delightful, and a day at the Nordic Spa was transcendent.

 

We didn’t learn much French, but we did adopt a local custom: every day we sat in a charming café to enjoy a croissant and latte.