Chateau Frontenac

Retracing steps in Quebec City

/ Greg / Leave a comment

When I’m traveling solo, one of my favourite past times is simply wandering around the city I’m visiting. In Canada, I can’t think of a better city in which to walk around aimlessly than Quebec City.  I’ve been there often and think I’ve walked every street in the old city many times over. But seeing the architecture, the art and the people never gets old.  On my most recent visit in June, although my time was limited as this was a work trip, I managed to put a few kilometres of wear and tear on my shoes retracing some of my favourite steps. Seen many times over by my eyes, Quebec City will always hold a special place for me.  It is a uniquely beautiful city.

Porte Dauphine
Old Quebec
Place d’Armes
Église Notre-Dame-des-Victoires
rue du Trésor

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The Château in photographs

/ Greg / 1 Comment

It’s the most photographed hotel in the world for a very good reason.  Over my five days in Quebec City, I’m proud to have helped add to the total.  The Château Frontenac is striking.  When you think of Quebec City, it’s the visual image that pops to mind first.   Even if I had no intention of pulling my camera out as I walked past, the hotel seemed to will it into my hand for another picture – a different angle, a different light falling across its spires, a different scene playing out in its shadows.  It’s a landmark that begs to be photographed.  Here are a few of my favourites from more than a hundred pictures I took of it on my recent trip:

From the Terrasse Dufferin

From the Terrasse Dufferin

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Raising a glass to good memories

/ Greg / 1 Comment

When I learned that this year’s national medical education conference was taking place in Quebec City, the first thought that crossed my mind was “I need to have a drink in the bar in the Château Frontenac.”  An odd first thought?  Not really.  Here I must pause to make a confession.

The only bar I’ve been kicked out of in my life was the Bar St-Laurant in the Château.

When I mention this to those who know me well I get a puzzled look as I’m a pretty quiet, tame fellow by any standard.  But it’s true.  Earlier in my life, it was made known to me in no uncertain terms that my presence in that bar was no longer accepted.

The punch-line?  I was 13 or 14.  I was with my Mom, Dad and a friend of our family from Quebec City.   A very formal waiter with a white towel over his arm leaned in to our table and in a quiet voice reminded my Mom and Dad that I was too young to be in the bar.  With that, Dad put $20 into my hand and I was off into old town Quebec to make my own fun for a couple of hours.

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