We made it to Montreal where Michael discovered that in addition to his two malfunctioning knees he was now experiencing extreme pain in his thigh which he attributed to a pulled groin muscle. Well, more on that later. We were headed to Quebec the next morning and looking forward to exploring areas that had eluded us on prior trips due to inclement weather, sick children or broken cars. But it was not to be (again....) because by now Michael was really in bad shape and couldn't walk more than about 100 steps which definitely puts a crimp in sightseeing. Thus we were forced to eat and drink to excess (well at least eat to excess).
We chose the Chateau Frontenac as the perfect place to spend a rainy afternoon and a lot of money. On top of superb food and drink we struck up a conversation with the two couples on either side of us and two thirty-something women seated nearby. We started talking first to the Canadian couple seated to our left. Of course they commented about our "strained relations" and thus the apology tour began. Meanwhile, to our right, the two women at the table (both Elizabeth Warren Democrats from Mass.) chimed in about how sorry they were about Trump. So far, so good. The Canadians are polite and don't personally blame any of us. Now the two thirty year old women join in. They are from Detroit and big Trump fans. One makes personalized rosary beads that she sells on the Internet and says "Trump has made my business thrive". OK. I can think of some reasons more people would be praying but I don't say that. They then point out that they are second generation Americans whose parents fled Iraq because they were being persecuted for being Christians. It is clear that they have not made the association that they are exactly the "type" of people that President Trump would deny asylum to. The whole thing is too much for our addled brains and we just smile pleasantly and order a cognac.
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| Due to my disability I was not able to take many pictures. I did manage to hobble over and take these pictures of Montmorency Falls outside of Quebec City. The falls are taller than Niagra Falls at 272 feet (83 meters) |
It is clear that Michael is not getting better. Our Air BNB is up very steep, creepy stairs further compounding his difficulty. I discover that I am in much better shape than I thought (see "condition not conducive to life" in last blog) as I haul luggage up flights of stairs and walk 25 blocks (long story) to find a pharmacy. We leave Quebec and head to Baie St. Paul on the Saint Lawrence River which is a very sweet, artsy town about an hour and a half North of Quebec. Having practiced a level of denial and transcendence that a Buddhist priest would envy concerning his pain, Michael finally cracks in Baie St. Paul and agrees to go to the new, shiny hospital ER a few blocks away. So... here we go again. Yet another medical system we can evaluate. Yippee!
Things have changed in the 44 years since I have been in a Canadian doctor's office. At that time, the Doctor examined me, said I had strep throat, gave me a shot, also some antibiotics and no bill. Just a cheery wave goodbye to his new American friends. Not so much now. The doctor was very nice and poked and prodded Michael in a knowledgeable way. She thought he probably HAD pulled a groin muscle. Then, to our surprise, she wrote out a RX for FORTY Oxycodone pills and some muscle relaxants. She said a MRI might be useful but that it would take them a month or a month and a half to get him an appointment. By then he'd be an addict for sure. So, really little wiser but more doped up and over $600 USD poorer we left the hospital.
From there we headed to St. Simeon where we would catch the ferry to Riviere du Loop. While waiting for the ferry I observed a totally Canadian scene. On the dock stood a woman clad in parka, scarf, hat and gloves. On the beach below a young girl exited the water wearing a bikini and -- well, that was it. The ferry was pleasant although we saw no beluga whales or dolphins (damn!) and then it was just a quick drive to Notre Dame du Portage -- the summer home of our pals Andre and Roland and their really cute basset hound. They were both most solicitous of Michael and Roland (a former professional ballet and modern dancer) was well versed and sympathetic in terms of Michael's injury. For a TINY town we had an absolutely outstanding dinner with Andre and Roland at Auberge Sur Mer (our inn). The scallops were REAL scallops -- not those weird things they are serving to the masses lately. The next day we set off for Magog (which still sounds sinister to me) to meet up with my brother and sister-in-law.
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| The fall colors were not at their peak yet (surprisingly). However I did snag a few of shots of the fall colors. |
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| I managed to capture photos of these geese while sitting in the car waiting for the ferry. Kudos to any bird aficionados who can identify them. I could find no geese that look like this in my Ultimate Bird Guide. |
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| A rare two headed goose |
Yes, Michael was still a mess but luckily driving was the only comfortable position for his thigh so we drove as much as possible. Magog is in the Eastern Townships (I think). While Quebec is tres, tres french, that area of the province of Quebec was originally settled by the English and the soon to be Americans who went the Loyalist route. But they all still speak French. You just see more Anglo Saxon names. But I digress.
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| In Magog we visited the Abbaye Saint-Benoit-du-Lac founded in 1912 by French Benedictine monks. |
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| The colorful tiles and bricks in the monastery lend a very modern flare to the design of the monastery. Europe has nothing to worry about monastery-wise. |
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| The chapel is also of a very modern but spare design. |
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| Even the grout at this entrance shows the two different colors used in the construction. |
While endlessly driving we listened to a lot of radio and picked up interesting information on the Canadian way of thinking. This one is from Nova Scotia. Apparently, the jail population has increased to a point where they have run out of prison space. BUT, they have a surplus of condos. So, the government is now renting the condos to house some of the prisoners. When the interviewer asked: "What about security? I mean no fences, wires, guards, dogs etc?" the official replied: "When inmates go in, a fob is used by an official to open the door. Should the prisoner leave the premises, he will not be able to get in again without the fob." Michael and I spun our heads around to stare at each other. "Did we hear that right?" Why would they WANT to get back in ?" We will never know the answer. End of interview. The Trailer Park Boys will be thrilled by the new lodgings. You have to have seen the show to get that joke.
Also a little quirky is Canadian Highway Signage. While cruising along I looked up and saw a sign displaying quite clearly the graphic of three naked butts (mom, dad, kid size) over the words Naturalist Camp this exit. It was NOT the only one we saw. Think about it. Naked in Quebec-- when? The third and fourth weeks in August? Well, there was that girl in the bikini. Hardy folks, they are, eh? Our extensive driving also allowed us to appreciate the fact that clearly there are 3.7 RVs for every living Canadian. You couldn't go five miles without seeing an RV dealership spanning acres and acres. Not to mention the ones blowing you off the road as they hauled their cars, boats, ATVs and horse trailers behind the behemoths. It was like weed shops in Colorado... but less fun,
Having had a really nice, if VERY quiet, time with my brother and sister in law, they decamped for their home in Bethel Maine while we headed to Montreal to meet up with our friends Ginny and Gary and Fred and Betsy. On the way, we stopped and had lunch with our old friend from Georgetown-- Phillip who has lived in Montreal basically since college. It's great when you see your friends and they're pretty much the same -- well, we're all real OLD but otherwise pretty much the same.
We had rented an Air BNB within a block or two of the Old Town of Montreal in a high rise. Coincidentally Bets and Fred ended up in the same building while Gary and Ginny were a few blocks away. It had been a long haul, it was raining, Michael was crippled and all we wanted was to get into the apartment and relax. And we did. The Air BNB host had a rather peculiar check-in routine where you dialed an access code to the high rise but then the door to the apartment was open and you found the key in a kitchen draw. I was horrified but then realized we were in Canada. Waltzed right into apartment 1315 and with my last ounce of strength I unpacked every item we had since we would be there for a week. Proud of myself, I went to the kitchen, poured myself a nice glass of red and sat at the breakfast bar catching up on news on the iPad. After 30 seconds the door opens and two people peer in. "What are you doing in our apartment?" they ask. "Well, it's our apartment I say smugly. See here's the key. The landlord left the door open." They don't believe me. I go get the rental agreement and guess WHAT? We have apartment 1513, not 1315. I guess it wasn't my last ounce of strength because we packed everything and hauled it up two flights. Now we are in the REAL apartment and Bets, Fred, Gary and Ginny join us for snacks and wine (since Michael is going nowhere). There is a knock on the door. I open it and there are two very thuggish guys wanting to know why we were in their apartment (1315). People have complained. I said, "Well, maybe if you people didn't leave all your apartments open you wouldn't have these kinds of problems." It fell on deaf ears. I was glad they didn't rough us up. No more renting Air BNBs in high rises. Now I understand why people are upset about the guys running large scale Air BNB operations.
I had a nice time walking around the city with the pals while Michael sat in the apartment reading and being annoyed at his leg/hip/whatever. After three days, our New England cohorts were off and we were ready to meet up with Michael's brother and sister and their spouses. We had good meals, nice walks, good talks. But if misery loves company there was plenty of company to be had. First, the Intercontinental Hotel where the sib foursome was staying had a small fire in the middle of the night forcing them to descend something like 17 floors and stand in the rain. We opined that it was a good thing it didn't happen to Michael and me since he would never make it down fifteen floors. Then it did two nights later. Luckily a false alarm.
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| A piece of the Berlin Wall on display in Montreal. (Photos below courtesy of Ginny Fox) |
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| A street scene in Old Montreal |
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| The ferris wheel in Old Montreal. |
After our visit, Brian and Dian were to meet Dian's sisters to cruise up the St.Lawrence and down past New England ending in NYC. Well, they couldn't depart Montreal because of maintenance problems with the ship. Then they finally made it to Quebec but they lost so much time they had to scrap a number of ports of call (all the ones Brian and Dian cared about). Finally fed up they bailed off the boat, rented a car and toured around. They stayed at the Frontenac and visited more with Michael and Patricia. Then, on the advice of the concierge they booked a B&B he said was nice. Six bedrooms shared one bathroom. It was not swell. They ended up flying to NYC to meet the rest of the family. Meanwhile Patricia and Michael had their own problems. While at the Frontenac there was a tremendous storm -- so fierce they couldn't leave the hotel. So fierce that it blew in through their windows and saturated the room. It was not swell. They had driven Michael's new Audi to Montreal even though there was a recall that warned that the thing could burst into flames. The dealer said not to worry. Actually the car didn't burn-- so that was good. But in negotiating a parking lot they had a bumper incident which led to a flat tire incident in the middle of a gravel road in nowhere. Only Audi would give you a donut that is not inflated. You figure out how to inflate it while you are stuck in the middle of nowhere with seemingly no tool to use. Anyway they survived. But this was a really snake bit trip.
Miraculously, we are home. So is everybody else. Nothing else has befallen us. Michael's hip (it's his hip it turns out) is slowly coming up to speed. I am indulging in a spate of physical activity unknown to me for at least 20 years. It hurts but I must. Once our parts are replaced and refined we should be off again.
Only a week until Day of the Dead which is always wonderful here. And then (I am not counting this as a trip) we are off to the beach (Pacific near Manzanillo) for Thanksgiving. And then, "no mas" at least for a while. Take care.
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