Monday, 21 June 2010
Quebec City, Canada
Well this is all very civilised, dear reader. Quebec City. Is. Very. Nice.
Further enhanced by the glorious blue sky.
Map in hand, perambulate the Promenade. Like a Victorian pier clinging to the cliff side rather than jutting out to sea. Decked in wood with small bandstand type places dotted along where you can shelter from the sun. Fantastic views across the St Lawrence river to Levis on the opposite side. Either a steep walk down to the Lower Old town or a CA$2 funicular ride. Has to be the funicular.
And here’s a quiz question for you, dear reader. In which city did I last take a funicular ride. You know the drill. Email me. First person to email me gets absolutely nothing.
The Lower Old Town has properties with gable ends decorated with impressive murals depicting what life would be like here in the 18th and 19th centuries. There’s a nice relaxed feel here. Despite the Japanese tourists.
Past the Citadel are the Plains of Abraham. Site of a famous battle between the English and the French in 1759. It lasted an hour. We won. Now seemingly used as an open air concert venue given the staging being erected.
In order to reinforce the British presence in Quebec City, the citadel was later constructed in 1820 adjacent this battlefield site. Only accessible now on a guided tour. A couple nearby argue the toss over who should stand where. Deary me. Get a life you two. French Canadian tour guide gives us an English language tour. I say English language but it’s more like being in the BBC TV sitcom ‘Allo ‘Allo with their faux French accents sounding exactly like he does. Giggles are stifled.
The British built a citadel with a view. Wow. Awesome vistas. Could think of worse places to be holed up fighting.
After all that walking about pass an Irish pub on the way back to the hotel.
Its outdoor terrace bathed in the late afternoon sun. A spare seat outdoors. With my name on it. A cold pint of Guinness. With my name on it.
Along with another pint and a Scooby snack the bill is CA$28. Pay the bill at the bar. And round it up to CA$30. As that’s convenient for handing over three ten dollar notes.
Barman is indignant and tells me in no uncertain terms that it’s not enough.
What?!
Waitress pipes up. It’s normal to add 15%. So CA$4.20. I’d added CA$2.00.
We’re talking about a quid, dear reader.
Waitress realises I’m British. So clearly not a tipper.
She says, “It’s OK. I’ll let you off!”
You cheeky so and so.
And off I go.
Muttering profanities to myself.
Like some loon talking to himself.
