July 1, 2010 Le Fleueve
East of Montreal the St. Lawrence River, about twice the width of the lower Fraser, flows through a bucolic idyll of corn and potato farms, and little villages of brick bungalows, their church spires visible long before you reach the tiny towns. Nice to drive through but it would drive you crazy, other than endless greenery there is little visible sign of life. Reminds me of Talking Head’s “Nothing But Flowers”: “Once there were parking lots, now it’s a peaceful oasis”. Yawn.
It is greasy rain as I leave Montreal in my shiny Jeep Cherokee, Kathleen Edwards on the stereo:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EVtAblO50Fc
Nothing happens today, sorry. I stop in Trois Rivieres and visit the lovely Catholic Church, a little taste of European cathedral splendour with its tall stained glass windows recounting the life of Christ and its now-silent organ with over 5,000 pipes, oh to hear “Tocatta and Fugue” at full volume!
From the air on my way to New Brunswick the next day I will see the strips of habitant farms stretching back from the river, just like they taught us in Canadian History Grade 9. It’s late when I get to Quebec City, the warm lights are on in the little bistros and shops lining its hilly cobbled streets. It is a sort of tourist paradise, all of the picturesque colour of old Europe without the gypsys and graffiti. From my 5th floor balcony I look over a scene from a tourist watercolour: Boulangerie, pubs, bookstores and Haute Mode. But it is late and I am forced to dine at Mike’s Italian, a surprisingly good lasagna laid out on a plate like a chinese fish, and for dessert a Pizzini, ice cream between wafers drizzled with chocolate sauce, even better than it sounds! A double armagnac in a students’ pub across the street, and a fine night punctuated by the occasional rumble of trains far below, my favorite lullaby.
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