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The Victoria GAZETTE |
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October 2010 |
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Thursday, September 16th. Another day at sea. We’re in a new time zone for the third time in five days so when we woke at 6 a.m. we set our watches back to 5 a.m. A smattering of whitecaps dotted the sea. The overcast sky fell upon us and it became a foggy day. After breakfast at our daily nook at the Garden Cafe, I logged into the internet for 75 cents a minute. I emailed our kids and my parents and noticed I already had 246 emails waiting for me in the Gazette’s inbox so quickly closed it before I’d be tempted to work. We walked a lap up on Deck 13 where the wind was wicked so we retreated to the partially enclosed Deck 7 for 30 minutes of lap time. At 2:30 we caught an old Walt Disney movie at the Stardust entitled “Race to Witch Mountain.” I’m not fond of science fiction but it was a good diversion. That evening we returned to Tsar’s Palace where I ordered escargot as my appetizer -- even knowing that the garlic would stay with me a while -- and an entree of pork medallions, a nice name but it didn’t describe the chicken fried pork steak that was placed before me. Oh, well. I ate it all!
Friday, September 17th. A day in Quebec City. Woke at 6 a.m. and saw that we were now in the St. Lawrence Seaway, pulling slowly south toward Quebec City. Amazing landscape. Amazing Chateau de Frontenac coming into full view. We pulled near the Eurodam, another cruise ship already parked at curbside in downtown Quebec City. At 7 a.m. our Norwegian Jewel came to a full stop. The sun and sky were bright, clear, and welcoming. Passengers began to disembark at 8 a.m. On the dock we met Natalie, our land guide, a native of the Quebec province, whose first priority was to set us straight on the pronunciation of the city’s name. It’s not as we’ve thought or heard. It’s not Kwa-beck or Kwe-beck. It’s Ke-beck or Keb-eck, she said. It’s an Algonquin word that means “where the river narrows,” which is exactly where Quebec City is located, where the St. Lawrence River narrows to the point that a bridge could be constructed across it. The city is one of the oldest in North America. It’s French. We were told if you want to climb social or economic ladders, you should be fluent in both English and French. Natalie, wide-eyed, friendly, and vivcacious, carried a yellow umbrella with a bouquet of oversized sunflowers tied to the end and held high in the air. She reminded us of Mary Poppins and we could always spot her in the crowd, on the corner, on the plaza, or on the busy passenger-only streets. Natalie informed us there are two physical levels of the city. The river level is on the bottom, which is where people settled, built shops and homes and traded furs after the founding in 1608 by Samuel de Champlain. The top level is where a fort was constructed and we saw old stone walls with windows for cannon barrels that could point in every direction from the high position overlooking the river. To get from one level to the next, Natalie walked our group of 24 to the funicular, that electric escalator that climbed the steep hill with no effort on our part. One boxed car held most of us. To get down, Allan and I took the Breakneck Stairs. With a name like that, how could we ignore it? The sun shone brightly on each level of the cobblestone city. Window boxes were abloom with red petunias. Musicians played and sang in the shade of old elm trees that reminded me, with their familiar-shaped leaves, of my childhood. Dutch Elm disease must not have hit Quebec City.
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Our Ocean’s Eleven Continued |
