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Allan and I had lunch in the lower town at a French cafe with a name that our young waitress translated as The Jumping Rabbit. Indeed, some of the menu items included Rabbit Pie, Preserved Rabbit Leg, and Cassolette of Rabbit Livers and Kidneys with maple and brandy sauce. I was tempted by the Blood Sausage with apple cream sauce but chose instead Smoked Salmon with Dill Sauce. The plating was picturesque and I’ve got the picture to prove it.

We dined outdoors on a patio dressed with large table umbrellas that had heat lamps built into them. There was also a fleece blanket in my chair should I need it. I didn’t. Dining outdoors remains popular here even in the cold and snowy winters.

By the way, across the street from The Jumping Rabbit was a restaurant called Le cochon dingle. Our waitress translated it as The Fat Pig. Why would anyone choose that name for a restaurant?

We also signed onto a horse and carriage ride in the upper city which was delightful. I kept being reminded of the five days that Allan and I spent in Paris with my parents back in 1997. Here in this French province we also marveled at the green spaces, the old churches, the European art and architecture, narrow streets and stately trees, outdoor sculptures and water fountains. We didn’t get the fall colors as anticipated; instead, we got something better -- warm weather and the colors of a still alive and blooming summer.

After more shopping we walked to our ship where fine dining at Tsar’s welcomed us once again. I ordered prime rib and devoured and relished my entire well-plated slab of it. Delicious. So was the vanilla ice cream and chocolate syrup.

Saturday, September 18th. A day at sea. Woke at 7 a.m. cruising northeast on the St. Lawrence River, away from Quebec City. Mountains ranged on our starboard side of the ship where we again kept our balcony door wide open, sipped our hot coffee in the room, and enjoyed the whoosh of the waves nine floors below us.

The river kept getting wider and we could still see the jagged mountains and the lighted cities at their feet at 8 a.m.

It was a warm day and, again, we spent almost all of it outdoors on the familiar Deck 12, where Floras’ kept a table in the sun for us. Allan and I also explored the ship from top to bottom, found the Captain’s Bridge, other restaurants, climbed a pole in the forward part of the ship and were reminded of final scenes in “Titantic” just before it sunk. Yikes!

That evening for dinner I ordered a bowl of seafood chowder and tilapia. Excellent. A ventriloquist entertained us at the Stardust and Celtic musicians played nearby at the Fyzz Lounge.

Sunday, September 19th. A morning at Sydney, an afternoon at sea. We began pulling into the harbor at Sydney, Nova Scotia, about 6 a.m. A few clouds hung in the harbor as we viewed the green lush countryside that looked like paintings by Norman Rockwell. There were rows and clusters of normal looking homes along the shoreline with red barns and church steeples scattered among them.

By 8:30 a.m. we were off the ship, walking up the hill toward Sacred Heart Catholic Church, which was located about two blocks up from St. George’s Anglican Church. We shopped an hour before the 10 o’clock Mass and an hour after Mass. Since Sydney was to be our last port, I did some fun power shopping, even purchasing a little bling for myself.

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