cloudy, sleet, mild, temps 0
well, this was unexpected! I'd happily blogged in early Janurary that the NYT was going to do a review of A RULE AGAINST MURDER to run January 25th. But then when I was in Phoenix for the launch earlier that week I got a call from the publishers to say it wasn't going to happen.
We were all very disappointed since a review, good or bad, in the Times is significant.
Then, last this past week I started getting messages from people - some congratulating me on having a review in, some asking if it was happening. I patiently wrote back to thank them, but explain there was no review.
Then, woke up this morning to another flurry of messages - many attaching the actual review - which will run in tomorrow's Book Section. Here it is!!!!
Louise Penny applies her magic touch to A RULE AGAINST MURDER (Minotaur, $24.95), giving the village mystery an elegance and depth not often seen in this traditional genre. Although Penny is no slouch at constructing a whodunit puzzle, her great skill is her ability to create a charming mise-en-scène and inhabit it with complex characters.
There’s something otherworldly and altogether enchanting about the Manoir Bellechasse, the magnificent lodge in the Canadian wilderness where Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, the head of homicide for the Sûreté du Québec, has taken his wife for their 35th wedding anniversary. Not only does the auberge offer grand views and the order and calm of old-world service, but it also observes a no-kill policy, with the proprietors feeding wild animals in winter and forbidding guests to hunt or fish. Someone obviously failed to explain that rule to the cultured but quarrelsome family holding a reunion to unveil a statue of their late patriarch, who makes his feelings felt by toppling down on one of his own. As Gamache observes, “things were not as they seemed,” not even in a paradise like Bellechasse. And never in a Louise Penny mystery.
Wow! Thank you to all the people who saw this in advance copy and sent it on...and sincere aplogies to people kind enough to say something, whom I didn't believe!
But, having given up on the possibility of a review in the NYT this feels like a huge unexpected gift. Exactly what it is, in fact! Yipppee...and long live Marilyn Stasio - the crime reviewer.
Had, as you might expect, a terrific day. Spent it in bed, actually, which is why this blog is being posted late. Not ill - just relaxed and lazy. Read a good book, drank coffee, napped, responded to emails. Napped. Napped. Wonderful.
Am now up and dressed and Michael's having a nap. We're trying to figure out if we want to go out for dinner (steak frites on the corner) or stay in. I'm now keen to go out - celebrate. Especially since I'm the one dressed and vertical. But we'll see how the Big Guy is feeling in an hour. If he'd like dinner in bed it's the least I can do after he climbed the stairs for me a dozen times today.
Oh, by the way, if you feel you'd like to rent this home you can. the only catch is that Old Quebec City is fearful that it will stop being a place where people actually live and become a spot for visitors only - too many hotels and B&B's and places let by the week...it can change the character of a place. So the city has brought in a new rule stating that places can still be rented, but no longer by the week. The minimum is a month.
But, if you have a month to spare and want to explore Quebec City and the surrounding area (Isle D'Orleans, Montreal, Gaspe, Tadoussac and whale watching - in summer) then this is a great base.
If you're interested, or just want to see more pix of this home, you can go to http://sites.google.com/site/quebeccityhouse/
or vrbo (vacation rental by owner)...not sure what this home is listed under, though! But it's in the Quebec City listing.
Hope that helps. We're off to that big brunch at the Chateau Frontenac tomorrow to celebrate carnaval with all the dignitaries...and us. apparently it"s expected we'll wear a ceinture fleche...which is a traditional Quebecois braided belt. We actually have quite a rare, authentic one, but we left it at home - d'oh. So we'll need to buy a couple on our way up there. The finals of the cross river canoe race are on at the same time, so this is also a celebration of that.
Really looking forward to it.
Be well, and will report in tomorrow -
Saturday, 7 February 2009
Friday, 6 February 2009
Advice for new writers
partly cloudy, temps minus 5, breezy
Very pleasant, walking south on rue Saint-Jean. Not so comfortable walking back. Wind right in the face. Still, fortunately it's not that cold.
Woke up this morning and tried to figure out why I'm having so much more fun here than I did in Paris. There's no way, as gorgeous as Quebec City is, it can be considered that much better than Paris! Perhaps I'm simply more familair with Quebec. And I have friends here. And a mission. that's always fun. Research. I think too I'm more relaxed. I was just exhausted when we went to paris in early December...all I really wanted to do was sleep and eat. Paris felt just too energetic, too thrilling. Too enervating.
But I think a huge factor for me is this home we've rented for the month. It's beautiful. Spacious, gracious, comfortable, renovated enough to be up-to-date but without the character stripped away. And the masterbedroom in the eaves is nothing short of spectacular. That, for me, is a huge issue.
I nest. I sure don't need a big space...but I do need a place I find beautiful, and safe.
I'm not an adventuruous person. As a teenager I realize I was physically daring (parachuting etc) but emotionally very timid - frightened. Now, at 50, I'm more cautious physically but way more daring and confident emotionally and intellectually.
So, yeah, give me a challenging book to write...and put me in a small room...but it better be beautiful. And have pastries.
Spent a lovely morning in Chez Temporel. Michael and I first had breakfast at Le Petit Coin Latin (omelettes) - then he came home to work on his laptop, and I took my notebook down the street to the cafe. Tiny place, as I've described. 10 small tables, tin ceiling, long wooden bar. I think everyone else (3 people) was writing a book as well. At least 2 of them were nursing coffees and writing on laptops or in notebooks. The third spent an hour reading Le Soleil (daily Quebec City newspaper).
In a Quebec cafe no one hurries you. You're welcome to bring a book, order a coffee, and sit all day.
I had a bowl of guess what and schemed. Needed to figure out how Gamache figures it out. Some mystery writers don't need to plot that closely - I do. For me it's the foundation from which the story and the characters take off. As long as I have that I feel free to be really creative. One of the wonderful things I've learned - there is no right or wrong way to write a book - just what works for each of us.
The advice I give to aspiring writers is pretty simple:
1) read poetry
2) write what you like to read
3) write for yourself - believe in it, and others will too
4) your creative self needs to write the first draft. Go wild - let yourself really go. Ignore your internal critic who says it's crap. (there's a place for your 'critic' in the editing - but not before)
5) Be kind to yourself - set yourself up for success
6) never, ever forget how lucky you are...and enjoy it.
I don't always remember my own advice...but on days I do I do my best work. And have fun.
Very pleasant, walking south on rue Saint-Jean. Not so comfortable walking back. Wind right in the face. Still, fortunately it's not that cold.
Woke up this morning and tried to figure out why I'm having so much more fun here than I did in Paris. There's no way, as gorgeous as Quebec City is, it can be considered that much better than Paris! Perhaps I'm simply more familair with Quebec. And I have friends here. And a mission. that's always fun. Research. I think too I'm more relaxed. I was just exhausted when we went to paris in early December...all I really wanted to do was sleep and eat. Paris felt just too energetic, too thrilling. Too enervating.
But I think a huge factor for me is this home we've rented for the month. It's beautiful. Spacious, gracious, comfortable, renovated enough to be up-to-date but without the character stripped away. And the masterbedroom in the eaves is nothing short of spectacular. That, for me, is a huge issue.
I nest. I sure don't need a big space...but I do need a place I find beautiful, and safe.
I'm not an adventuruous person. As a teenager I realize I was physically daring (parachuting etc) but emotionally very timid - frightened. Now, at 50, I'm more cautious physically but way more daring and confident emotionally and intellectually.
So, yeah, give me a challenging book to write...and put me in a small room...but it better be beautiful. And have pastries.
Spent a lovely morning in Chez Temporel. Michael and I first had breakfast at Le Petit Coin Latin (omelettes) - then he came home to work on his laptop, and I took my notebook down the street to the cafe. Tiny place, as I've described. 10 small tables, tin ceiling, long wooden bar. I think everyone else (3 people) was writing a book as well. At least 2 of them were nursing coffees and writing on laptops or in notebooks. The third spent an hour reading Le Soleil (daily Quebec City newspaper).
In a Quebec cafe no one hurries you. You're welcome to bring a book, order a coffee, and sit all day.
I had a bowl of guess what and schemed. Needed to figure out how Gamache figures it out. Some mystery writers don't need to plot that closely - I do. For me it's the foundation from which the story and the characters take off. As long as I have that I feel free to be really creative. One of the wonderful things I've learned - there is no right or wrong way to write a book - just what works for each of us.
The advice I give to aspiring writers is pretty simple:
1) read poetry
2) write what you like to read
3) write for yourself - believe in it, and others will too
4) your creative self needs to write the first draft. Go wild - let yourself really go. Ignore your internal critic who says it's crap. (there's a place for your 'critic' in the editing - but not before)
5) Be kind to yourself - set yourself up for success
6) never, ever forget how lucky you are...and enjoy it.
I don't always remember my own advice...but on days I do I do my best work. And have fun.
Thursday, 5 February 2009
Library
sunny, breezy, temps minus 8
Feels a little colder today thanks to the wind - but still pleasant. What a mess in Britain - all that snow. And, on the other extreme, I've heard from some readers in Melbourne, Australia that it was 44 degrres celcius which is roughly a million degrees fahrenheit. You could roast a marshmallow in that temperature.
We're not in danger of that here.
Had a great time scheming some more. Michael and I did breakfast yesterday and plotted how the murder happened - why - the clues, the red herrings...the place of history. Then we came home and I made notes all afternoon on our conversation. I have a 'master' notebook, divided in to sections - Characters, Plot, Descriptions and atmosphere, Quotes and Poetry. And, uniquely for this book, History.
As the research progresses I keep notes. Crucial not to forget any details. This is proving both complex and huge fun! I need to sprinkle enough clues that you can figure it out...enough red herrings so it isn't clear which clues are important. Enough mis-direction to make it a fun read, but not so much that it becomes confusing. That's it really. I need it to be rich in purpose and character - complex in plot - but not confusing.
So I need to figure out what happened...now and in the past. And how if effects what people do today. And how Gamache unravels the clues. Or maybe this will be the one he doesn't solve. Maybe this will be the one no one solves. That rare beast in detective fiction - an unresolved case. Hmmm.
Spent a few peaceful minutes (about an hour) in the Literary and Historical society today, making notes. I had a couple of ideas and needed to check some research. Turns out my ideas won't work - but fortunately I found something that will work even better, and tie up another loose end. Such fun. And people are unbelievably helpful and accomodating.
I was slightly concerned before coming to Quebec City that the English community wouldn't take kindly to my ideas - or to my thoughts about Quebec history. My theories, really. But they've proven unbelievably flexible and helpful. Even suggesting each other as the murderers!
Such a beautiful library, the Lit and His. If and when you come to Quebec City I'd encourage you to visit. I'm presuming you're reading this because you, like me, love books. And probably love libraries. This is one not to be missed. Not because it's big - it isn't, quite the opposite. Not because it has a unique collection - it doesn't. But it is simply peaceful and old and light and feels both thoughtful and welcoming.
Writing this I got to thinking of the wonderful library on Mackinac Island we visited for an event this past summer. It too is tiny. But perfect. With views out into the great lake, and a huge stone fireplace. And books, too.
And I also think of the lovely old community library in Staatsburg I visited when STILL LIFE first came out and no one knew about it, or cared. Except Anne Jordan - the head of the library in Staatsburg.
I didn't realize until this moment that one of the biggest gifts my writing has given me is a chance to enter so many beautiful libraries. And meet people who work for pittance - often for nothing - because they love books.
Feels a little colder today thanks to the wind - but still pleasant. What a mess in Britain - all that snow. And, on the other extreme, I've heard from some readers in Melbourne, Australia that it was 44 degrres celcius which is roughly a million degrees fahrenheit. You could roast a marshmallow in that temperature.
We're not in danger of that here.
Had a great time scheming some more. Michael and I did breakfast yesterday and plotted how the murder happened - why - the clues, the red herrings...the place of history. Then we came home and I made notes all afternoon on our conversation. I have a 'master' notebook, divided in to sections - Characters, Plot, Descriptions and atmosphere, Quotes and Poetry. And, uniquely for this book, History.
As the research progresses I keep notes. Crucial not to forget any details. This is proving both complex and huge fun! I need to sprinkle enough clues that you can figure it out...enough red herrings so it isn't clear which clues are important. Enough mis-direction to make it a fun read, but not so much that it becomes confusing. That's it really. I need it to be rich in purpose and character - complex in plot - but not confusing.
So I need to figure out what happened...now and in the past. And how if effects what people do today. And how Gamache unravels the clues. Or maybe this will be the one he doesn't solve. Maybe this will be the one no one solves. That rare beast in detective fiction - an unresolved case. Hmmm.
Spent a few peaceful minutes (about an hour) in the Literary and Historical society today, making notes. I had a couple of ideas and needed to check some research. Turns out my ideas won't work - but fortunately I found something that will work even better, and tie up another loose end. Such fun. And people are unbelievably helpful and accomodating.
I was slightly concerned before coming to Quebec City that the English community wouldn't take kindly to my ideas - or to my thoughts about Quebec history. My theories, really. But they've proven unbelievably flexible and helpful. Even suggesting each other as the murderers!
Such a beautiful library, the Lit and His. If and when you come to Quebec City I'd encourage you to visit. I'm presuming you're reading this because you, like me, love books. And probably love libraries. This is one not to be missed. Not because it's big - it isn't, quite the opposite. Not because it has a unique collection - it doesn't. But it is simply peaceful and old and light and feels both thoughtful and welcoming.
Writing this I got to thinking of the wonderful library on Mackinac Island we visited for an event this past summer. It too is tiny. But perfect. With views out into the great lake, and a huge stone fireplace. And books, too.
And I also think of the lovely old community library in Staatsburg I visited when STILL LIFE first came out and no one knew about it, or cared. Except Anne Jordan - the head of the library in Staatsburg.
I didn't realize until this moment that one of the biggest gifts my writing has given me is a chance to enter so many beautiful libraries. And meet people who work for pittance - often for nothing - because they love books.
Wednesday, 4 February 2009
What if....
overcast, mild, temps minus 5
Lovely day - but I've come to appreciate in Quebec City that the only thing worse than a brutaly cold day is an extremely mild one. Both can kill you. The cold is obvious - what is less obvious in a Quebec City winter is what is lurking just above you. Snow on roofs that slides off like an avalanche when it gets either too heavy or too mild. But the worst are the icicyles. This is a city of ice. And most of it hanging three stories up, in the shape of a dagger, like Damacles.
As we walked this morning we marvelled at the huge chunks of ice on the sidewalk and spilling onto the road...then we realized what they were...and where they'd come from. And if we, or anyone else, had happened to be walking beneath...well...no book 6.
The other small winter detail, shared by most Canadians and so common as to be hardly noticed, is the tiny pricking of boiling water on the hand holding the hot water bottle. As we pour the boiling water into the spout it sometimes backs up and 'burps' - which sends a very small guyser of hot water onto the hand. It's not pleasant. Pouring hot water bottles become a skill...it's vital to get the water going straight down the hole, without backing up.
This is perhaps another reason Canadians don't rule the world. Our minds are taken up with other things. Like water. Boiling and frozen.
Had fun yesterday. Rushed out in the morning to meet Jacquie for breakfast at the Chez Temporel cafe. Great old 'intellectual' hangout we'd never have found or once found not have entered (looks like a hole in the wall). But is known to have the best coffee and croissants in the old city. And they're not wrong. Jacquie and I had their almond croissants - unbelieveable - with shaved almonds on top and almond paste inside...while Michael had two regular croissants (he's a classicist). no one was disappinted.
had a wonderful conversation with jacquie - about all sorts of things - including a thing called the Night of the Long Knives...which for Canadian political junkies refers to a seminal evening many years ago when the separatist Premier of Quebec was politically ambushed by his Federalist fellow premiers and the Prime Minister....and that led to many, many years of hard sovereingist sentiments and a deep and abiding distrust of anything Federalists might say.
This is, after all, a province fueled by memories as long and sharp as those knives.
But seems Night of the Long Knives has become a playful description of a very competitve ice sculpture competition during the Quebec Winter Carnival. Teams of sculptors from around the world are each given a massive block of ice - and 12 hours to complete a carving. They have chain saws and hacksaws and knives and finally tiny whittling tools for the finest details. And they race each other. And apparently sometimes sabotage each other.
From breakfast we were late and had to meet Louisa Blair across town, outside the walls, at the Grand Theatre, on Rene Levesque blvd. Michael - clever man - found an underground way to get there. We'd never met Louisa - a prominent local historian - and when we arrived there must have been 5,000 6 year olds just getting out of a concert at the Grand Theatre. Which was noisy and disconcerting - this sudden sea of wool, and tuques and snow suits - but it actually made finding Louisa quite easy since anyone over 3 feet tall stood out.
We repaired to a local Tim Horton's and schemed murder for an hour and a half. I just adore this part of the process...being with intelligent, informed people who are willing to bend reality and think of what might have been possible. Fascinating, and so creative. We sipped double doubles and went down all these 'What if...' alleys. And finally came up with something that Louisa said might even be what actually happened. Something unexplored but plausible.
It felt like hitting gold. thanks to Louisa Blair.
Then we raced out of there...late again. And ran home. Had a pre-interview with the CBC Montreal afternoon show at 1pm...and a live in-studio interview at 5:20. Then Michael and I walked home, past the skaters on the rink created at Porte Saint-Jean - one of the three gates into the old city...and up rue Sainte-Ursule to the Moroccan restaurant. Had lamb couscous and Michael had Lamb Tagine with prunes. It's a 'bring your own wine' restaurant...which of course we don't do...but it's another hole-in-the-wall and if our friend Susan hadn't told us about it we'd never have tried it. Wonderful. Entire meal - including soft drinks - was less than 50 dollars for two.
We had breakfast at Le Petit Coin Latin this am - spending a couple of hours going over details of the crime...and the history lugged along with it. And am now home. Have a 2pm radio interview the Bob McLean...great former CBC journalist now hosting his own show...so will light the fire, carefully pour a hot water bottle (though as I've been writing this I've heard the kettle boiling so I suspect Michael has a few red marks on his hand and two full bottles) and will committ to paper what we discussed over breakfast.
Great life. No one can quite believe this is my job. Neither can I.
Lovely day - but I've come to appreciate in Quebec City that the only thing worse than a brutaly cold day is an extremely mild one. Both can kill you. The cold is obvious - what is less obvious in a Quebec City winter is what is lurking just above you. Snow on roofs that slides off like an avalanche when it gets either too heavy or too mild. But the worst are the icicyles. This is a city of ice. And most of it hanging three stories up, in the shape of a dagger, like Damacles.
As we walked this morning we marvelled at the huge chunks of ice on the sidewalk and spilling onto the road...then we realized what they were...and where they'd come from. And if we, or anyone else, had happened to be walking beneath...well...no book 6.
The other small winter detail, shared by most Canadians and so common as to be hardly noticed, is the tiny pricking of boiling water on the hand holding the hot water bottle. As we pour the boiling water into the spout it sometimes backs up and 'burps' - which sends a very small guyser of hot water onto the hand. It's not pleasant. Pouring hot water bottles become a skill...it's vital to get the water going straight down the hole, without backing up.
This is perhaps another reason Canadians don't rule the world. Our minds are taken up with other things. Like water. Boiling and frozen.
Had fun yesterday. Rushed out in the morning to meet Jacquie for breakfast at the Chez Temporel cafe. Great old 'intellectual' hangout we'd never have found or once found not have entered (looks like a hole in the wall). But is known to have the best coffee and croissants in the old city. And they're not wrong. Jacquie and I had their almond croissants - unbelieveable - with shaved almonds on top and almond paste inside...while Michael had two regular croissants (he's a classicist). no one was disappinted.
had a wonderful conversation with jacquie - about all sorts of things - including a thing called the Night of the Long Knives...which for Canadian political junkies refers to a seminal evening many years ago when the separatist Premier of Quebec was politically ambushed by his Federalist fellow premiers and the Prime Minister....and that led to many, many years of hard sovereingist sentiments and a deep and abiding distrust of anything Federalists might say.
This is, after all, a province fueled by memories as long and sharp as those knives.
But seems Night of the Long Knives has become a playful description of a very competitve ice sculpture competition during the Quebec Winter Carnival. Teams of sculptors from around the world are each given a massive block of ice - and 12 hours to complete a carving. They have chain saws and hacksaws and knives and finally tiny whittling tools for the finest details. And they race each other. And apparently sometimes sabotage each other.
From breakfast we were late and had to meet Louisa Blair across town, outside the walls, at the Grand Theatre, on Rene Levesque blvd. Michael - clever man - found an underground way to get there. We'd never met Louisa - a prominent local historian - and when we arrived there must have been 5,000 6 year olds just getting out of a concert at the Grand Theatre. Which was noisy and disconcerting - this sudden sea of wool, and tuques and snow suits - but it actually made finding Louisa quite easy since anyone over 3 feet tall stood out.
We repaired to a local Tim Horton's and schemed murder for an hour and a half. I just adore this part of the process...being with intelligent, informed people who are willing to bend reality and think of what might have been possible. Fascinating, and so creative. We sipped double doubles and went down all these 'What if...' alleys. And finally came up with something that Louisa said might even be what actually happened. Something unexplored but plausible.
It felt like hitting gold. thanks to Louisa Blair.
Then we raced out of there...late again. And ran home. Had a pre-interview with the CBC Montreal afternoon show at 1pm...and a live in-studio interview at 5:20. Then Michael and I walked home, past the skaters on the rink created at Porte Saint-Jean - one of the three gates into the old city...and up rue Sainte-Ursule to the Moroccan restaurant. Had lamb couscous and Michael had Lamb Tagine with prunes. It's a 'bring your own wine' restaurant...which of course we don't do...but it's another hole-in-the-wall and if our friend Susan hadn't told us about it we'd never have tried it. Wonderful. Entire meal - including soft drinks - was less than 50 dollars for two.
We had breakfast at Le Petit Coin Latin this am - spending a couple of hours going over details of the crime...and the history lugged along with it. And am now home. Have a 2pm radio interview the Bob McLean...great former CBC journalist now hosting his own show...so will light the fire, carefully pour a hot water bottle (though as I've been writing this I've heard the kettle boiling so I suspect Michael has a few red marks on his hand and two full bottles) and will committ to paper what we discussed over breakfast.
Great life. No one can quite believe this is my job. Neither can I.
Tuesday, 3 February 2009
Another day at the office
partly cloudy, temps minus 5
Yesterday was a hoot. And a scream and a shriek. We started out late and decided instead of going to breakfast on rue Saint-Jean we'd wander and see what we could find. It was going to be, I suspected, a quiet day.
If I ever thought I had some psychic powers that suspicion was laid to rest.
First, we found Notre Dame Bascillica...quite hard to miss, really. Massive church in the centre of the old city. The prevailing idea is that Champlain is buried somewhere below it, though it wasn't there at the time of his death. But it was fun to sit there quietly for a few contemplative moments. And remember that just 2 months ago we were doing the same thing at Notre Dame in Paris.
Then we asked a single question. Not about whether God exisits, not about Grace or the afterlife, or even the body of Champlain.
We asked where we could get breakfast. Happily there was a very clear answer to that. The Cafe Buade, across the street. Great old institution. Banquettes, exposed stone wall...a little faded. We had cafe au laits - I had scrambled eggs and bacon and Michael had Pain D'ore (french toast) with bananas and strawberries and syrup.
After breakfast we needed to use the washroom and in searching for them Michael noticed signs to a multi-media show called Quebec Experience...a 3-D show about the history of Quebec City! Honestly, it just dropped into our laps. So off we went...there was no one else there so the owners started up the English show just for us and we sat in the dark theatre with our silly glasses watching this gallop through history. Love 3-D. I actually gasped a few times.
Then we decided to just wander. Off we went...took les escalier casse-cou down to rue Petit Champlain...which is below the cliff and is the very first place the explorers landed...being on the water. The escalier are stairs, long there and long famous for being very steep...casse-cou means 'break-neck'. We found Place Royale - the original settlement...very peaceful, old stone buildings and another church - Notre Dame de Victoires.
then up the famous Funicular to the Dufferin Terrace. The funicular is an external elevator that travels up and down the cliff - taking people from the lower town to the upper. It actually collapsed a few years ago killing some people inside - so that adds a bit of 'frisson' to the event. But fab views.
And then the totally unexpected in a day already unexpected...we were on Dufferin Terrace in front of the Chateau Frontenac - when suddenly we decided to take the ice slide. I'd been on it once, as a child, and have never forgotten the experience. Michael had never been on it.
We got the toboggan (costs 2 dollars each) and climbed up to the top...the stairs are actually just toe-holds cut into the snow. Quite exhausting. Huffing and puffing we made it up. Another spectacular view - apparently. I only had eyes for the slide.
Dear Lord - what were we thinking??? and there was clearly no other way down!!!
So we leapt on the toboggan and the nice young attendent took a picture of us smiling maniacally. I adore this photo - there's Michael holding his brief case - like a businessman who has taken a disasterously wrong turn.
Yesterday was a hoot. And a scream and a shriek. We started out late and decided instead of going to breakfast on rue Saint-Jean we'd wander and see what we could find. It was going to be, I suspected, a quiet day.
If I ever thought I had some psychic powers that suspicion was laid to rest.
First, we found Notre Dame Bascillica...quite hard to miss, really. Massive church in the centre of the old city. The prevailing idea is that Champlain is buried somewhere below it, though it wasn't there at the time of his death. But it was fun to sit there quietly for a few contemplative moments. And remember that just 2 months ago we were doing the same thing at Notre Dame in Paris.
Then we asked a single question. Not about whether God exisits, not about Grace or the afterlife, or even the body of Champlain.
We asked where we could get breakfast. Happily there was a very clear answer to that. The Cafe Buade, across the street. Great old institution. Banquettes, exposed stone wall...a little faded. We had cafe au laits - I had scrambled eggs and bacon and Michael had Pain D'ore (french toast) with bananas and strawberries and syrup.
After breakfast we needed to use the washroom and in searching for them Michael noticed signs to a multi-media show called Quebec Experience...a 3-D show about the history of Quebec City! Honestly, it just dropped into our laps. So off we went...there was no one else there so the owners started up the English show just for us and we sat in the dark theatre with our silly glasses watching this gallop through history. Love 3-D. I actually gasped a few times.
Then we decided to just wander. Off we went...took les escalier casse-cou down to rue Petit Champlain...which is below the cliff and is the very first place the explorers landed...being on the water. The escalier are stairs, long there and long famous for being very steep...casse-cou means 'break-neck'. We found Place Royale - the original settlement...very peaceful, old stone buildings and another church - Notre Dame de Victoires.
then up the famous Funicular to the Dufferin Terrace. The funicular is an external elevator that travels up and down the cliff - taking people from the lower town to the upper. It actually collapsed a few years ago killing some people inside - so that adds a bit of 'frisson' to the event. But fab views.
And then the totally unexpected in a day already unexpected...we were on Dufferin Terrace in front of the Chateau Frontenac - when suddenly we decided to take the ice slide. I'd been on it once, as a child, and have never forgotten the experience. Michael had never been on it.
We got the toboggan (costs 2 dollars each) and climbed up to the top...the stairs are actually just toe-holds cut into the snow. Quite exhausting. Huffing and puffing we made it up. Another spectacular view - apparently. I only had eyes for the slide.
Dear Lord - what were we thinking??? and there was clearly no other way down!!!
So we leapt on the toboggan and the nice young attendent took a picture of us smiling maniacally. I adore this photo - there's Michael holding his brief case - like a businessman who has taken a disasterously wrong turn.
And then we dropped off the face of the earth.
aiiiieeeeee.
We actually should have known it was terrifying when on the way up two great big men in their 20's went down screaming and weeping.
aiiiieeeeee.
We actually should have known it was terrifying when on the way up two great big men in their 20's went down screaming and weeping.
On really cold days when the ice is especially hard people whizz down the slide at astonishing rates, flying off the end and stopping somewhere in the middle of Britain. This was not a bitterly cold day, but still it felt as though we were flying, or actually, falling.
We used toboggan 35. I would suggest not using that again, if you know what I mean.
But what an unbelieveable experience!!! We adored it...
Now have to run - am already late for breakfast with Jacquie Czernin - lovely host on CBC radio - then meeting Louisa Blair - a local historian. Who knows what today holds...certainly not me!
But what an unbelieveable experience!!! We adored it...
Now have to run - am already late for breakfast with Jacquie Czernin - lovely host on CBC radio - then meeting Louisa Blair - a local historian. Who knows what today holds...certainly not me!
Monday, 2 February 2009
Super Bowl - arrrgh.
sunny, beautiful day, temps minus 9
So, Arizona lost...but what a game! Have to say, I think Pittsburgh deserved to win, so I don't feel too badly. And, really, we don't follow football at all. We're those awful dilitants to become interested only in the finals.
But - if you actually really, really cared about the outcome this year's Super Bowl would have killed you! So close - those last 5 minutes were amazing!!!
So now I've exhausted my sports talk. hard to believe i was actually a sports reporter. My very first job. Another lifetime.
We're heading out. Breakfast is calling. Then we'll explore more of the old city - especially want to walk around Notre Dame Cathedral and into the crypts. Still trying to connect with a man who was highly recommended for a private historical tour of Quebec. And the Chief Archeologist.
I also want to really thank all the people who read the newsletter and wrote such lovely messages. This is a fun time. Bad times come every now and then, so I always think it"s a shame not to totally appreciate and celebrate the good.
Speaking of which - we're off into Quebec City. Speak to you tomorrow.
So, Arizona lost...but what a game! Have to say, I think Pittsburgh deserved to win, so I don't feel too badly. And, really, we don't follow football at all. We're those awful dilitants to become interested only in the finals.
But - if you actually really, really cared about the outcome this year's Super Bowl would have killed you! So close - those last 5 minutes were amazing!!!
So now I've exhausted my sports talk. hard to believe i was actually a sports reporter. My very first job. Another lifetime.
We're heading out. Breakfast is calling. Then we'll explore more of the old city - especially want to walk around Notre Dame Cathedral and into the crypts. Still trying to connect with a man who was highly recommended for a private historical tour of Quebec. And the Chief Archeologist.
I also want to really thank all the people who read the newsletter and wrote such lovely messages. This is a fun time. Bad times come every now and then, so I always think it"s a shame not to totally appreciate and celebrate the good.
Speaking of which - we're off into Quebec City. Speak to you tomorrow.
Sunday, 1 February 2009
Caribou-boo
more fluffy snow flakes, temps minus 10
Actually the official forecast says minus 16 but we just came back from brunch (more eating? honestly! No self restraint) and it was fairly mild.
they've closed off a couple of blocks of rue Saint-Jean and are having a small hockey game, some music and these huge puppets - really quite macabre - wandering up and down. Look faintly Venetian. Half Venetian, half menacing.
One big pasttime at the Quebec Winter Carnival is to buy a hollow plastic walking stick and fill it with Caribou. Not the animal, nor even the meat - but this unholy alcohol. You can pick it up in lots of places, but particularly along Sainte-Therese street...or you can make it yourself out of some combination of Port/Brandy/Wine/vodka/Maple Syrup. I suspect this is what fuels Bonhomme. When I worked here years ago there was a fellow who was famous for making the best Caribou. I seem to remember he lived in the lower town, the basse ville and was named 'Ti Jean or something. 'Ti' is a Quebec diminutive for 'petit', so in effect it's a small diminutive. Never mind.
Perhaps someone reading this - Hum?? - knows the guy or the story.
The wonderful Linda Lyall, who designs and manages my website and newsletter, sent out the February newsletter today. We're giving away 2 souveniers from the Carnaval. Just tiny little gifts.
Such fun to hear back from people - and such beautiful messages. Supportive, enthusiastic, kind. And helping to celebrate the New York Times list. Honestly I don't think I will ever recover from the surprise and delight of that. And such fun to celebrate with you.
We rose late, had brunch out - bought some pastries for later (eclairs, Jesuites, escargots d'orange, and a pear and chocolate thing) and will read the papers, respond to the emails and later on watch the Super Bowl. We're rooting for Arizona because I was just there and I feel an affinity for them. And it was such fun to hear the amazement of everyone in Phoenix that they should be in the Super Bowl!
I've placed some calls and am hoping to have a few private tours of historic sites next week. I'm seeing more clearly what the crime will be, where, and how far back the crime (and the memory) reaches. Such fun. It means I have a more focussed search - though still trying to keep my options open in case something even more exciting and disturbing and rich presents itself.
I do know this - we're going to have great fun, you and me. Writing it, and reading it!
Actually the official forecast says minus 16 but we just came back from brunch (more eating? honestly! No self restraint) and it was fairly mild.
they've closed off a couple of blocks of rue Saint-Jean and are having a small hockey game, some music and these huge puppets - really quite macabre - wandering up and down. Look faintly Venetian. Half Venetian, half menacing.
One big pasttime at the Quebec Winter Carnival is to buy a hollow plastic walking stick and fill it with Caribou. Not the animal, nor even the meat - but this unholy alcohol. You can pick it up in lots of places, but particularly along Sainte-Therese street...or you can make it yourself out of some combination of Port/Brandy/Wine/vodka/Maple Syrup. I suspect this is what fuels Bonhomme. When I worked here years ago there was a fellow who was famous for making the best Caribou. I seem to remember he lived in the lower town, the basse ville and was named 'Ti Jean or something. 'Ti' is a Quebec diminutive for 'petit', so in effect it's a small diminutive. Never mind.
Perhaps someone reading this - Hum?? - knows the guy or the story.
The wonderful Linda Lyall, who designs and manages my website and newsletter, sent out the February newsletter today. We're giving away 2 souveniers from the Carnaval. Just tiny little gifts.
Such fun to hear back from people - and such beautiful messages. Supportive, enthusiastic, kind. And helping to celebrate the New York Times list. Honestly I don't think I will ever recover from the surprise and delight of that. And such fun to celebrate with you.
We rose late, had brunch out - bought some pastries for later (eclairs, Jesuites, escargots d'orange, and a pear and chocolate thing) and will read the papers, respond to the emails and later on watch the Super Bowl. We're rooting for Arizona because I was just there and I feel an affinity for them. And it was such fun to hear the amazement of everyone in Phoenix that they should be in the Super Bowl!
I've placed some calls and am hoping to have a few private tours of historic sites next week. I'm seeing more clearly what the crime will be, where, and how far back the crime (and the memory) reaches. Such fun. It means I have a more focussed search - though still trying to keep my options open in case something even more exciting and disturbing and rich presents itself.
I do know this - we're going to have great fun, you and me. Writing it, and reading it!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)