Normally…

I avoid posting two blog posts in rapid succession, today, however, I have the time and inclination (as when one crosses Westminster Tower with the Tower of Pisa!) and wish to update on the personal situation as well as give a tourist’s review of Québec City!

During last week, I ran the full gamut of emotions on receiving a thick envelope from my college. Waiting for my bus to evening classes, I tore open the package in the bus shelter, both apprehensive and excited, to discover that my dream is at last coming to pass, and the last year of agonising, studying, waiting and doubting, is at last over. The envelope contained a precious document, my acceptance into college for the full time, three year nursing programme, at the end of which I can begin university  in the same discipline. From the moment I received this confirmation, many parts of the jigsaw puzzle of the future fell into place. I now know that I can succeed, I have to pass my chemistry exams (my current evening class) and also to have a whole raft of vaccines (the UK does not provide, or did not provide when I was a child, a vaccination booklet) before I can begin clinical studies, but it is very exciting to be able to really and truly plan for  a future career. Before receiving the letter, the suspense and uncertainty had almost destroyed my already low reserves of self-confidence, I was in fact even beginning to doubt the validity of my current chemistry course, but this has returned with a flood.

Also omnipresent at this time is the search for work. This has become especially urgent with the end of all financial aid from the government. It is hard to believe how difficult it is for someone to obtain a job, even in my current circumstances. It is impossible to gauge in advance, just what kind of a CV a company is searching for. Including too much irrelevant information is not likely to win favour in a low-skill employ, nor is a CV with apparent gaps in it. Worse still, as so much of my experience is “home grown” or non-professional, and most of the companies for whom I worked are within the isolation of the Exclusive Brethren’s “system” it is very hard to prove that I have in fact worked during the past fourteen years! I am almost tempted to take along photographs of all my previous employments to my prospective jobs, but this would do little more than present a diversion for the interviewers, as did my CV at the last interview with a local company just across the road. I accept that a  prospective employer has to appear neutral or even negative, but to say that my CV is “intriguing” leaves me with no feedback whatsoever.

One thing which is clear, when posting for a job, one cannot afford to rely on “hope” that the employer will call back. One has to become a virtual nuisance, politely bombarding the company with calls and messages, to keep the file warm. An area in which I also need to work more, is in “spontaneous jobs”. These are considered unreliable, but the hidden job market apparently accounts for over 80% of the jobs “available”. This includes jobs where friends and family members are commended for a post, or where one simply walks into the store, requests an interview, and presents the CV  immediately. The fear of rejection is a huge barrier in this case, and it is very tough not to go away with a mild sense of exclusion, almost of rejection, when the potential employer says “no”. It also requires being in top form nervously, not something I can clearly say applies to me. I have received some excellent career advice, I have people close to me who are willing me with all their might to find a job, and in fact who depend on me to do so… but that in itself is not enough. It is one more stage in my life, just as with the education, where that which I receive is directly proportional to the effort I exert to succeed. I would love to have my own  business, to make money with paintings, with photography, with a whole host of other things which I am good or accomplished at, but, at the expense of being cynical, none of the above are a stable, even if small source of income, the most desirable form right now. Of course, I do not want to choose a double career- I cannot become a builder or carpenter, and expect to work just when I am available, during my full time studies. I cannot truly commit to a call centre, with the inevitable evenings, which would conflict with my current courses. Probably I should be best, simply flipping burgers or cleaning rooms, because this is a mentally undemanding job that would provide a steady and sufficient income to supplement our current funds- and to buy all the expensive materiel I shall need for my classes.

In all this, all my reserves of patience and foresight will be needed, with one aim in mind:

Three weeks later…

and it is almost difficult to remember the sensation of walking in several inches of snow during our short stay in Québec City. I intended to continue my account of the experience immediately after the first instalment of the blog, however, many things intervened. Thankfully I documented the trip in some detail offline, so hope to share some of the more pertinent facts and experiences here.

After a fine breakfast on the Saturday morning at our ancient and yet comfortable B&B, during which we ate blueberry pancakes, fresh fruit, cereals, breakfast muffins and a whole host of other good things, we decided to make at least one sortie before the falling snow made this impossible. What had initially begun as forecasted rain, had turned overnight into a heavy fall of snow. Thankfully, the temperature was hovering just below zero, so it was not uncomfortable to set out from our accommodation and head for the Plains of Abraham.

A bit of seasonal snow was not enough to deter the owners of the calèches which ply the streets throughout the year; although we were there as tourists, we’re not completely in agreement with the quality of life that the horses receive, so we passed this mode of transport up for walking on foot. Thankfully, the snow ploughs had cleared the paths up to the Plains, and we were able to have an invigorating walk up towards the old fortifications, in the teeth of continually falling snow. The view of the semi-frozen St Laurence was somewhat obscured by the weather, but if anything, the resulting aerial perspective was mellowing (below).  The uncomfortable mix of architecture in the city (quasi-modern mingling with historic) reminded me of Guildford in the UK, where the historical castle overlooks a concrete multi storey car park and a modern cathedral.

We felt cold and extremely damp after wading through the still-drifting snow up by the battlements, so decided to visit the nearby tourist information bureau and find out where we could visit and still remain dry. Quebec’s tourism is an ultra-organised industry, and our informative guide gave us some great tips on where to dine, and attractions to see. We decided to make our way to the Muséé national des beaux-arts de Quebec http://www.mnba.qc.ca/Accueil.aspx as I had not yet explored the fine arts in my adoptive country. It proved to be a wonderful choice.

The museum housed a running exhibition on the artist Marc-Aurele Fortin, a name I had previously not encountered. I was pleasantly surprised to discover what a talent (and motif) this Canadian artist had, and to view numerous of his paintings and drawings. From the number of landscapes and cityscapes in his paintings, I came to the primitive conclusion that his style is an amalgam of Constable, Lowry and Turner. The figures in his landscapes, even his city views, are small and insignificant “insects”, walking with bowed bodies or seated beneath his towering trees and mountainous clouds.

It was an inspiring visit, and the time we spent in the gallery left us drier and more prepared to seek out our lunch. We did this at the recommended : http://www.cafekrieghoff.qc.ca/home.html

The cafe Krieghoff provided a simple but very well prepared comfort lunch, and also offered a local “pub” atmosphere. It was also surprisingly tourist-free, and we mostly heard French and local accents filtering from the bar. We dined late, and then sought out some replacement socks (the walk on the cliff had left our feet soaked, not being prepared for any depth of snow). We then walked, dried and refreshed, to see the Chateau Frontenac. The first, and lasting impression I have of this building, would be summed up in the word “ostentatious”. It has little more appeal for me as a historian, tourist or new citizen, than Harrods in London had in the past, and we did not take the tour, contenting ourselves with exploring the route back to the main square, where we decided to book a restaurant for supper.

We were feeling slightly negative when we called at the Beffroi, a steak house built into  a hotel in the central square of the tourist district, but this only slightly contributed to a disappointing customer service experience.

http://www.tripadvisor.com/Restaurant_Review-g155033-d1140130-Reviews-Le_Beffroi_Steak_House-Quebec_City_Quebec.html

We simply felt that, as non-staying guests, the reservation was made in such a detached and indifferent manner, that we were not happy to return there for supper, and after spending a few minutes in a cafe nearby, watching people slipping over on the freezing rain-covered sidewalks, we decided to forget the unfriendly restaurant and make our way to a place nearer “home”.

http://www.entrecotesaintjean.com/flash/index_fr.htm

We decided on The Entrecote St Jean, in the old quarter just a couple of blocks from the guest house. Not only did we receive excellent service at an extremely busy time, with no prior reservation, the food was cooked to a very high standard and equal to any we have enjoyed in Montréal. It did not have the snob factor of the Beffroi, nor the ambience, but we were more than satisfied that the service made up for this, and it is a restaurant I would feel safe recommending to any friend.

The Sunday dawned with even less pleasant weather, a mixture of melting snow and freezing rain turning the sidewalks into treacherous skating rinks. We almost decided to stay at the guest house until departure time, midday, though this would have been a considerable waste of time. The effects of the chill and damp were also making themselves felt, and we both had colds. The only place of any interest within “winter walking distance” of the station was the farmer’s market.

We enjoyed almost every part of our experience of our stay at the Maison James Thompson, save one; we were not pre-warned that they accept no payment cards, only cash, therefore it was a partial relief to know that I’d packed the cheque book. Even so, this one negative experience was not enough to spoil our stay, where we were very well looked-after. Sylvie’s boots were even provided with a heater overnight to dry them out, a fantastic and sympathetic level of service.

Our trip home was a series of unsettling experiences; firstly, our taxi to the station had to be diverted when we discovered that there was a major fire incident in the old quarter, through which we had to pass. The taxi driver diverted up a steep and extremely slippery hill, and instead of easing off the accelerator when his front wheel lost grip, he simply piled on the gas, so we spent several fruitless minutes listening to shrieking tyres and smoke from the differential before we finally made more progress uphill than down. The farmer’s market proved to be interesting, but many of the products were identical to those available in Montréal’s better supermarkets. We did indulge in some locally-prepared nougat, which was comparable to that from Montelimar, and then made our slippery way to the railway station.

Thankfully the rail service was more efficient than the taxis, despite the weather, and we made acceptable progress Montréal bound. Two families of screaming kids incarcerated in the same carriage with us made it a far-from positive journey, as did the frequent stops to allow the Canadian National freight trains to pass our “lower priority” train on the single track sections, but we rolled into Montréal acceptably on time. The whole experience was a learning curve, but gave us plenty of ideas for future visits. We intend next time to:

• Hire or borrow a vehicle and not be shoehorned into a cattle wagon with hyperactive and undisciplined children,
• Take a trip at a more favourable season of year, though preferably not at the height of summer,
• Stay in a similar accommodation: affordable and comfortable, very quiet, and near to the “action” as far as tourism is concerned.

All in all: a very positive experience, though it left us both with severe infections- these were more likely contracted before we left, and in fairness, were probably provoked as much by the change in routine as by picking up “fresh germs”.

(Above) Mr Ghandi feeling the burn.

A little trip to the North

to the city where the battle for the main language of North America was decided, according to some… at any rate, for us, a restful break from the routine and stress of life in the Banlieu of Montréal, and a debrief for me personally after the stresses of the first exam this year!

Of necessity, our weekend was short, as we decided to take the Via Rail train from Montréal’s Central Station early on Friday afternoon, and return by the same route on Sunday. Rather than blow our budget for the whole weekend in a luxury hotel, we opted fortuitously for a wonderful and historic bed and breakfast in the heart of Québec’s old town. http://www.bedandbreakfastquebec.com/

But I am jumping ahead! For me, the train trip was interesting despite the fact the route lies through the less than inspiring river valley between Montréal and Québec City; for one thing, this was my first rail trip on North American soil; for another it enabled a much closer study of the landscape than that permitted by taking the AutoRoute in the current wintry conditions.

Rail transport in Canada is highly organised, boarding our train involved more formalities than would be undergone to board a pan-European budget flight, and despite the aging infrastructure, shared tracks and ugly station facilities, our departure from the central station was agreeable, especially once we had crossed the shaky Victoria Bridge and left behind the sleepy South Shore town of St Lambert with its one-horse station. (below)

I doubt if rail is even second-fiddle to road transport in this country, which is a little sad. The coaches were old and tired but very comfortable, and the absence of stress inherent with road travel was a huge advantage. The logistics of maintaining a railroad in the fairly remote shooting-box countryside North of Montréal during winter most certainly cannot be easy; despite this, the ride was smooth, and we arrived in Québec’s outskirts several minutes early. One has an impressive view of the St Lawrence River as the train crosses one of two huge bridges into the provincial capital, and glimpses of the more imposing buildings in the city, such as the ubiquitous Chateau Frontenac.

The Gare du Palaise was both imposing and tasteful, something we are not accustomed to in Montréal’s architecture. Though built significantly later, it harked gently to historic railway stations in England, and the old town, when entered by taxi, was redolent of Stamford. I was pleased at the absence of pretentious architecture and also of cold grey granite, as the weather on our arrival was far from welcoming, snow forming slowly and steadily into slush and rain on the steep, crazy-paved streets.

Our welcome at the Maison Historique James Thompson was a most favourable first impression- and thankfully one which lasted! The historical aspect of the ancient house has been tastefully incorporated to make the place charming, romantic and welcoming without being kitsch or artificial. The “security system” particularly tickled me:

An old blunderbuss (I never discovered whether or not it was loaded….) to back up a feature built-in by the Scottish builder of the house, James Thompson-  a “murder hole”! This strange little device initially reminded me of a pillbox loophole, then suggested a very old fashioned mail delivery system or speaking tube, but no… in tandem with the blunderbuss, they offered a significant “deterrent” to would be marauders. Thankfully our hosts spoke English and seemed to have no predisposition against English speakers, and as we remembered the door entry procedure, we had no trouble on returning in the evening!

Our accommodation had everything we needed, in a delightful antique room with every modern comfort tastefully concealed. Being at the top of the house meant that we were very quiet and save for the inhabitants of an aquarium, we had the whole top floor of the house to ourselves.

We had a small supper at Le Saint-James, a resto-bistro very near to our guest house, having spent the evening wandering around the many rather expensive stores which are mixed in with cheap gift shops and “Irish” pubs.

http://manoir-victoria.com/index.php/en/gastronomy-table-manoir-resto-bistro-st-james

We decided to have an early night, as the next day portended very poor weather, and we wished to use the best of our time in the morning to have an excursion. The room, despite being antique, was warm and well furnished, and as previously mentioned, wonderfully quiet. I doubt if that kind of tranquility would exist anywhere on the Island of Montréal.

Our delightful accommodation. On seeing the road in the morning, we were glad to have taken the train!

To be continued…