Postcard from Québec City

QUEBEC, CANADA- In early spring, the smell of maple syrup mixes with the brisk morning air. In Québec, maples are a symbol of their livelihood. The landscape of black maples are ensconced in this region. Here, the French-Canadians live, and their’s is a landscape that is large, with hilly fields flattened for so far as one can see, save for the occasional dot of a factory.

In winter times, it is not difficult to imagine a cold one sweeping in from the Great Lakes. What’s more, while visiting the campus of Laval University, it is quiet, characteristic of its mysterious nature. Gothic architecture line the buildings that make up the campus.

Underneath the structures of the university is a long tunnel. In snow flurries, I could imagine students crowding through the cement walkways. For now, at the cusp of summer, the tunnels were fairly deserted. Graffiti proudly lined the entrance. Given how clean the rest of campus was, one could imagine the graffiti being wiped off if officials so chose, but it was kept there almost as a badge of honor, personifying students from years past.

The bus drivers, mostly female, drove with a kind of relish on the road. In certain stretches, they seemed uninhibited by any laws. Only when we headed closer to the city center did they slow. The modern and olden times mixed well together in Québec City.

Red-bricked towers guarded the stone-paved walls of the past. All along the roads, people sat and ate in open-air cafes, much as they do in Europe. Even though it was a weekday, there was a distinct sense of the weekend. People let go and listened to a busker make his day’s wages that evening. The line for gelato stretched out onto the street, and nobody seemed to mind. High-school-aged ice cream dolers did so with charm and a certain carefulness that enforced the slowness.

The river could be seen from the top of the fort surrounding the oldest part of town. Even viewed from there, its rapids appeared strong and dangerous. Their strength was not absorbed the closer one got to it. Instead, it seemed perceptible, in a heartbeat on your sleeve kind of way.

When leaving Québec City by way of Montreal, there is a sense that you are not necessarily exiting one world, as you are entering another. One leaves with the sense of the city, even years later.