I’m not sure why, but when I arrive somewhere new, I am anxious to get out and walk around. So despite an 11-hour drive from Halifax with my wife and Molly the Doodle, I wanted to stroll around the old city of Quebec. Besides, we were hungry.
I hadn’t been in Quebec since I was in University. We used to drive from Toronto every Christmas Day to go skiing and leave for home, tired and pretty much sick of beer, on New Year’s Day. One of my treasured memories of the city was on New Year’s Eve. The elevator door open and, to my surprise, a friend was sitting on a love seat he had moved into the elevator and was simply drinking beer and meeting people as he rode up and down. Given the circumstances, I think the bigger surprise is that I remember at all.
Being much more mature, at least more mature than Molly the Doodle, we set out in search of some simple food and the sights. Camera in hand, I cranked up the ISO, threw on a 35mm lens and headed out. The sky was clear with a bright moon glowing and just beginning to turn dark.
Quebec is a beautiful city and as we discovered over the next couple of days, exceptionally friendly. That evening we found a patisserie where we returned each day to enjoy the most delicious breakfast of all things bad for you. I can’t imagine how much butter they must go through in a day.
With reluctance, and a promise to return, we packed up and headed home. But not before we returned to the patisserie for a last breakfast.