Tag Archives: Canada

European Charm Close to Home

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The photos that have inspired my photo essay this month are from my November 2024 trip to Québec City with my sister. We had a marvelous time exploring the food scene, visiting the art museum, and wandering through the historic streets around Place Royale. This 400 year-old city is one of my favorite Canadian destinations.

Whenever I travel to Québec City, I tell my friends and family that it is like going to Europe without the long plane ride. The European charm of the city fills me with joy, and I always appreciate the opportunity to parler français. When I was in high school, I chose to study French rather than Spanish because I wanted to honor my family history. My father’s French Canadian ancestors moved from Cacouna, Riviere-du-Loup in Québec to the town of Van Buren in northern Maine and then to Connecticut. Traveling to Canada brings me closer to my heritage. Someday, I want to plan a trip to Cacouna, one of the most beautiful villages in Canada.

Sunset over the city.
City Walls

Olive and Hazel sat side by side on a curved wooden bench in the middle of the Modern Art gallery in the Musée National des Beaux-Arts. The gallery was empty except for the museum guard who hovered near the doorway across the room.

The two lifelong friends (they had met fifteen years earlier in their second grade classroom) were resting their feet after an exhaustive tour of the three floors of the museum. They were surrounded by paintings created by twentieth century artists in Québec. Olive’s favorite was an oil painting of a defiant rooster portrayed in a kaleidoscope of bright colors against a yellow background. Shifting slightly to get a better view of the work, she made a mental note to learn more about the artist, Jean Dallaire.

With a sigh, Olive stretched out her legs and wiggled her toes, admiring the blue nail polish she had applied that morning in their hotel room.

“These sandals are cute, but not the most comfortable walking shoes,” she said.

Hazel looked down at her own practical white sneakers and elbowed her friend. “If we’re really going to continue this world tour of art museums—”

“And bookstores,” Olive interrupted.

“And bookstores,” Hazel continued, twirling a strand of her long red-gold hair around her index finger, “you’ll have to learn how to become a better packer.”

“I will. I promise. When we go to San Francisco, I’ll bring just one bag packed with everything I need including sneakers.” Olive lifted her phone to take a selfie with her best friend. They looked like sisters, maybe even twins with their red hair, wide grins and matching navy tops.

Smoothing her swirly cotton skirt over her knees, Hazel said, “Maybe we should include some posts all about travel tips in our blog. What do you think?” They had started collaborating on a travel blog while they were in college, writing about weekend road trips around New England. The Québec trip was their first adventure abroad. Their blog had just hit one thousand followers.

“Great idea.” Olive scrolled through the photos on her phone.

“We have to decide who’s going to write which posts from this trip,” Hazel went on. “I can do the restaurant posts and write about yesterday’s culinary tour of Ile d’Orléans if you want.” She was more of a foodie than Olive. She had even considered going to culinary school instead of heading with Olive to the University of Vermont, where she studied business administration.

“Of course. Sure,” Olive agreed. “I can write about this museum and Librairie Pantoute.”

“That was such an awesome bookstore!” Hazel said, pushing her tortoiseshell glasses up to the bridge of her freckled nose.

“I know. Right?”

As a group of tourists entered the gallery with their museum guide, Hazel stood and checked her watch. “Let’s grab some lunch at Ciel! It’s not too far from here and the views of the city from the revolving dining room are supposed to be amazing.”

The two aspiring influencers made their way arm in arm to the museum exit. Stepping out into the afternoon sunshine, Hazel said, “I really hope our blog takes off. Wouldn’t it be so cool to earn our living as full-time travel writers? No more dragging myself out of bed to commute on the crowded train to my stuffy office for a day of clerical work.”

“That would be a dream come true,” Olive agreed.

A Day to Remember

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Of all of the wonderful travel destinations in Canada, Quebec City is my favorite. The centuries old, historic city is replete with European charm. On a recent visit there with my sister, we toured the city on foot and by bus. We stayed in a comfortable, ideally located hotel in Old Québec. We had plenty of opportunities to admire the art and architecture, indulge in some delicious meals, and take a lot of photos. The pictures from our weekend adventure reflect the setting of my most recent short story. Please enjoy reading an excerpt of that story below.

I’ve always loved his grey-green eyes.  The minute our gazes met across the kitchen in Québec City, I was hooked. I met Lukas on my second day of vacation at a baking class led by one of the city’s well-known pastry chefs. Our instructor, a petite, middle-aged woman with a long, blonde braid divided our group of eight into pairs and Lukas was my assigned partner.


Lukas and I  worked well together, chatting companionably.  I found out that he was an only child who grew up in Bath, England and a chef, who was on the verge of opening his own restaurant. I described my job as a food critic for a local newspaper and told him about my family.

Our time in the kitchen flew by. Before we knew it, we were showing off a tray  of rather impressive maple macarons to the class.   As we were cleaning up our station, Lukas invited me to lunch.  From then on, we were pretty much inseparable for the rest of the week.

We explored the Basse-Ville neighborhood, walked along the walls enclosing the city and got our fill of history and québécois culture at the Musée de la Civilisation and the Musée National des Beaux Arts. On our last day together, we ate breakfast at my hotel and then walked off the scrambled eggs, fruit and almond croissants on the Plains of Abraham.

Closing my eyes, I relived that wonderful day.  The weather had been perfect.  Blue skies and plenty of warm sunshine.   Bypassing the military museum at the entrance to the park, we made our way to the wide path overlooking the St. Lawrence River.

The park was busy that day, filled with joggers, dog walkers and picnickers. We strolled by the Joan of Arc garden, with its monument to the saint and one of the stone Martello towers, built to fortify the city. In front of the tower, a group of men dressed in eighteenth century military costumes, entertained a crowd of onlookers with stories of life in the army barracks centuries ago.  

When we reached the riverside walking trail, we paused to take in the view. We looked down at the roofs of the lower town and the glittering, watery expanse of the St. Lawrence. The silhouette of the famous Chateau Frontenac, Québec’s iconic landmark, shimmered on the horizon.

Shading my eyes from the sun to watch a tour boat churn by on the river, I said, “My brother and his wife were here last summer for the music festival. Edmund’s wife, Joy, is a singer. She has a life goal to attend at least one music festival a year. She said the Québec City Summer Festival was one of the best.”

”Apparently, concerts and festivals are a regular occurrence here on the Plains,” Lukas said.

“The Québec Winter Carnival in February is also supposed to be pretty awesome.  I’ve heard the ice sculptures alone make it worth braving the cold.”

Lukas linked his arm with mine, as we continued walking. ”We should come back in February,” he said.  “Do a bit of cross country skiing and brave the cold at the carnival.  Afterwards, we can cuddle up in front of the fire with a cup of tea or even better, a glass of mulled wine.”

”That might be fun,” I said. My heart filled with hope as his grey-green gaze met mine and we shared a smile.