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.
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.
Words and Photos by Linda A. LeVasseur 