What manner of person flees the winter chill by fleeing to winter chillier? Aside from skiers, who have all that cash invested in equipment and wardrobe, who would do this?
We went to Quebec City last winter to find out.
Now, according to Quebec City promotional literature, the world’s three largest carnivals are in the following cities: Rio De Janeiro, New Orleans–and Quebec City. More than a million people find their way up here every winter for Carnaval. I have no idea how many do Rio and New Orleans, but think about this:
Rio’s is famous for its music and dancing and general gaiety and exposed, sweaty, writhing body parts. Plus, it’s February in Rio, where it’s probably warmer than where you are. No mystery there.
Mardi Gras is a wild party. Jazz. Beads. Booze. Etouffee. Flashers, some of them women. Plus, it’s February in New Orleans, where it’s probably warmer than where you are. Again, no mystery.
Carnaval, in Quebec City, usually straddles the border between January and February (though it’s Feb. 1-17 this winter). Evening temperatures routinely dip below zero Fahrenheit and way below zero Celsius, ongoing snow is a given (except on Feb. 12, 1998, when a freak rainstorm messed up everything), and any breeze off the ice-pocked St. Lawrence River makes eyelids freeze to eyeballs.
It might have been a wild party seven or eight years ago in Quebec City, but it isn’t anymore. They used to crown a queen and seven duchesses. Not anymore. They used to have cognac breakfasts–and carry on the rest of the day until they had to be carried in. Not anymore.
Then why go?
Start here: It’s in Quebec City. And we’ll get back to that, but first, here’s what we’re talking about with this thing.
Carnaval de Quebec, the official name in French, began in 1894 as a way of taking Quebecers’ minds off the reality that winter here lasts a long, long time. (The name in English is “Quebec Winter Carnival,” which is as dull-sounding as “St. Paul Winter Carnival,” so it’s hardly ever used except, maybe, in Toronto.)
For generations, Carnaval was held every so often, which made it a little tough to promote. Then in 1955, empty hotel rooms persuaded local businesskeepers that an annual celebration might be good for business. And it’s been annually happening, and good for business, every year since then.
From the beginning, there has been competitive snow-sculpting and ice-sculpting. There have also been canoe races across the St. Lawrence, which is far more idiotic than it sounds but has its roots in necessity: Canoes were how people and goods traveled in this part of the world before bridges and highways reduced them to recreational vehicles. The races are still around.
New since 1955 is a mascot-symbol called “Bonhomme Carnaval.” Remember the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man from “Ghostbusters”? Give him a red stocking cap, a toothless grin and a knitted multicolored sash (itself a garment of historic linkage) and you have Bonhomme Carnaval, a snowman-mascot whose joie-ful appearances are greeted by children with a glee usually reserved for Barney or maple syrup, which also is here in abundance.
(Could be worse. The mascot could be a Giant Oreo, produced by the event’s latest primary corporate sponsor. Fortunately, the Giant Oreo–yes, there is a Giant Oreo–was spotted on this visit only during one of the festival’s two parades, trailed by helpers who were tossing their cookies to the crowd. As it were.)
In 1995, a couple of mind-altering things happened to les Quebecois. The Nordiques of the National Hockey League ditched town to become the Colorado Avalanche and win a Stanley Cup, which would drive any Quebecer to drink. That was one.
The other, brutally cruel under the circumstances: Carnaval sort of went on the wagon.
“It was a booze party,” said Jean-Paul Villeneuve, who has been selling “effigies” (little plastic Bonhommes worn on your obligatory parka that serve as admission tickets) for 13 winters, 9 of them in the lobby of the landmark Chateau Frontenac hotel.
“So they put the queen and the duchesses away, and now everything is geared for the family. They don’t drink as much as they used to. Now, it’s much more pleasant. Better atmosphere.”
So what do people do once they get there? Dress like snowmobilers, for one thing. It makes walking around the streets and snowfields tolerable.
Ice skate, possibly with a moose, at a rink just outside the city walls (we’ll get to the walls too). Climb an ice tower. Share an inner tube with a friend and tube down a snowpacked tube hill. Slide down another snowpacked hill in a rubber raft with a whole bunch of friends. Ice-fish and catch a trout, guaranteed. Eat smoked trout. Eat frozen maple syrup. Yell at the canoe-racers.
Blow red plastic horns until eyes pop. Sip “caribou” (a kind of traditional red hooch of variable recipe–Quebec City ain’t entirely ready for reform) from hollow red plastic canes topped by miniature heads of Bonhomme Carnaval, that rascal.
Cross-country ski between cannon batteries on the Plains of Abraham, also just beyond those city walls where, in 1759, armies from England and France made bilingual guerre for about 20 minutes. The French lost the battle and Quebec but retained naming rights to winter carnivals.
Watch kids slide down ice-slides. Watch kids carried on dads’ shoulders. Watch kids be totally oblivious to how cold it is. Watch kids laugh.
Two inescapable sounds of Carnaval de Quebec: The annoying drone of those red plastic horns and the uncomplicated laughter of little children.
Admire the work of those ice sculptors. Ice sculptures have almost become cliches, thanks to weddings, bar mitzvahs and cruise-ship midnight buffets–but these are something else: intricate, often delicate, sometimes amusing.
Really admire the work of snow-sculptors. Entries come not only from other provinces but from international teams, including one from that hotbed of snow-sculpting: Mexico.
During this visit, two favorites were being produced by teams from Russia and England. The Russian work, monumental in scale, was so lascivious that I can’t fully describe it here, except that she was on her back.
The English sculpture was a huge but nonetheless merry tribute to British Gen. James Wolfe. It was Wolfe who led that British victory over the French on the Plains of Abraham; and it was Wolfe who, prior to the battle, ordered a siege of Quebec City that over 63 straight days hurtled thousands of cannonballs on the town, flattening much of the riverfront and many of its citizens, all of them presumably French-Canadians.
Which, considering we’re in Quebec City, seemed a curious choice by the team from England.
On the other hand, the sculpture was not quite the general. It appeared to be howling.
“It’s a wolf dressed in the general’s clothing,” explained team captain Jonathan Rodney-Jones. “Because it’s a play on words. British humor. If, indeed, there is such a thing.”
(Author’s reminder: Both the lascivious Russian sculpture and the politically insensitive English sculpture were observed at last season’s Carnaval. There’s a good chance both have melted by now, even though we are talking about Quebec.)
The other can’t-miss Carnaval attraction, along with the parades and the sculptures and the chance to ski across a battleground and the other stuff mentioned above, is Bonhomme Carnaval’s Ice Palace.
It is made of 5,000 blocks of ice weighing a total of 750 tons. The ice is imported from Montreal, but, hey, ice is ice. By day, the palace is a maze of towers sure to amaze and delight children too young to wish all that ice were surrounded by distilled beverage.
But after dark, those towers become home to a sound and light show, featuring thundering music of various persuasions and punctuated by flames shooting in all directions and melting nothing.
And there’s the canoe races. A couple of dozen canoes trying to cross the St. Lawrence River despite massive floes of ice and snow and enough current to light California.
What are the rules? “I don’t know,” said a man dressed like an official–and really, it doesn’t matter. It is something to see. It also is something you will never, ever want to try, unless you’ve been hitting that red plastic cane a little too often.
Which brings us to the main reason to come here.
Quebec City, pop. 170,000, even (and, if you’re dressed for it, maybe especially) in winter is a marvelous place to just walk around, wobbly or not.
Begun in 1608 when Frenchman Samuel de Champlain settled here on the banks of the St. Lawrence, it is North America’s only walled city (the French started the walls, the British finished them, the Canadians restored them). Today’s Quebec City is historic–Old Quebec, mainly the area within the walls, was named a World Heritage Site by UNESCO in 1985–very European and thoroughly charming.
“Montreal is a North American city,” said a spokeswoman for Quebec City tourism, asked to compare. “Quebec is a big village.”
It is 98 percent French, but most everyone a tourist will meet speaks some English, and without a snarl. It is foreign, but it’s a neighbor who likes us.
When the weather is good, Quebec City is very good. From summer through fall leaf season, rooms can be hard to get and with good reason, especially at the 600-room, iconic, incomparable (and imperfect, as with any old hotel) Chateau Frontenac.
In winter, the crowds diminish, restaurants relax. Even during Carnaval, when the province and half of Connecticut seem to descend on the place, the old town is busy and buzzing yet remarkably uncongested.
The snow frosts the trees and brightens the timeless stone buildings; the lights twinkle like an extended Christmas; the cold creates a camaraderie than comes with common suffering.
Maybe that’s what brings people here and brings them back, again and again.
Visions of snow sculptures, parades, horns, a Stay-Puft snowman and a party atmosphere (even a relatively sober party) provide the excuse–but nothing beats the cozy feeling of sharing a perfect dinner in a warm French restaurant with someone you like a lot, surrounded by history and by others whose natural color, like yours, is slowly returning to their faces and fingers.
It’s not Mardi Gras or Rio. But it’s nice and warm, just the same.
It’s Carnaval. Dress for it.
And bring the kids.
And there’s more . . .
Need more than Carnaval and the charms of old Quebec City to make a trip worthwhile? Here’s more.
DOWNHILL SKIING
Cross-country tracks (1,200 miles of them) are everywhere, but New Englanders routinely come up here to mix quality downhill slopes with the pleasures of Quebec City. Top ski resorts: Mont-Sainte-Anne, Stoneham and Le Relais, each less than 30 minutes from town.
THE ICE HOTEL
Have you ever wondered what it would be like to spend the night in a hotel made almost entirely of snow and ice? Didn’t think so, but nonetheless, here it is: the Ice Hotel. The beds are foam padding on ice, the pads topped by deerskins. Walls are sculpted snow. Chairs are ice. Toilets are shared porta-potties. There’s a hotel bar that serves cocktails in glasses made of ice, which you’re welcome to keep. (Think about that.) “We were warm enough,” said one woman who spent the night last year with a companion, “My nose was cold this morning, but it was a once-in-a-lifetime thing.” Last year’s hotel slept 22, but it (naturally) no longer exists; this winter’s, on another site, will sleep a maximum of 77. The rates averaged about $100 (U.S.) per person last season, and rooms were scarce; at about $146 this year (including dinner and breakfast), demand is anybody’s guess. Check www.icehotel-canada.com/en/hotel.htm on the Web.
ILE D’ORLEANS
The Quebec City equivalent of Door County. The year-round population of 8,000 doubles in summer, as dazzling urbanites escape to country homes and ramble among the villages, orchards, vineyards and artists. Just 15 minutes from town, but oh, what a difference it brings–and winter creates a near-pristine quiet that’s special.
MONTMORENCY FALLS
Nearly a hundred feet higher than Niagara (but nowhere near as thundering), the 272-foot cataract–found in 1542 by explorers and named in 1613 by Samuel de Champlain–attracts weddings and picnickers in good weather, but creates natural ice-sculptures in the cold season. Warm up next door, as it were, with a meal in the fine-dining Manoir Montmorency restaurant. Not far: the lovely Sanctuaire de Sainte-Anne-de-Beaupre. A 15-minute drive.
MONTREAL
Three hours or so by train, a little less by car. Insular Quebecers consider the city a den of evil and corruption (“Quebec City is secure,” said one. “If you want crime, go to Montreal.”), but they still go there for the shopping, smoked meat, nightlife, Canadiens hockey and that urban buzz. You should too.
— Alan Solomon
IF YOU GO
GETTING THERE
Air Canada was recently offering one-stop service from O’Hare to Quebec City for fares as low as $299, with connections in Montreal, Ottawa or Toronto (all fares subject to change). Domestic airlines generally connect with Air Canada in Canada, but there are exceptions; American, for one, flies all the way into Quebec City with a connection in Boston, at a slightly higher fare.
Quebec City is a 1,000-mile drive from Chicago via Toronto and Montreal; in good weather, looping back through New England completes one of the nicest motor tours in North America.
Trains serve Quebec City, but it’s a 20-hour haul on Amtrak and Via Rail from Chicago and not cheap. Nice combo: Fly into Montreal, enjoy that great city, then take VIA Rail to Quebec.
American, United and Air Canada were all offering fares of about $285 to Montreal; that train fare is about $53 round-trip, the 160-mile journey takes about three hours, and you see some country.
Any way you do it, U.S. visitors need proof of birth and citizenship, ideally a passport.
STAYING THERE
The unchallenged queen of Old Quebec hotels and very likely Canada’s most famous lodging is the century-old Chateau Frontenac. Now part of the Fairmont family, it is the only grand hotel within the old city walls. Rates start at about $195 (single or double; all rates subject to change and variable exchange rates).
For those who prefer large chain-style hotels, just outside the walls but convenient to the city’s attractions are Hilton and Radisson properties, as well as Loew’s Le Concorde, all typical of their type. Smaller (145 rooms) but with large-hotel services, the well-appointed and well-priced Manoir Victoria (I paid about $85; rates and rooms vary) puts you midway between the Frontenac and the main fair venues; the creaky Hotel Clarendon ($88) is clean, with a nice location in the shadow of the chateau and (if you catch the right act) terrific jazz most nights in its lounge.
Old Quebec is full of charming and reasonably priced inns and B&Bs. Notable: The 25-room Le Clos Saint-Louis (my room is going for about $110 at Carnaval, including a simple breakfast; most rooms are cheaper).
GETTING AROUND
Just about everything a visitor comes to see in Quebec, including most of the fair activities, is reachable on foot from anywhere in and near the Old City. Taxis do exist but rarely cruise; your hotel or restaurant will call one for you if you ask. In any case, in winter bring shoes (or better, boots) that provide warmth and traction. Streets, sidewalks and stairways can be snowpacked and slicker than alliteration; hills add to the challenge.
In general, dress for the conditions, not for fashion. Restaurants, most of them, will forgive you.
Travelers with disabilities and anyone unsure about walking in wintry conditions can enjoy parts of Quebec City, but for many areas of Old Quebec . . . well, imagine San Francisco with slush and you get the picture.
SCHEDULE, COSTS
Carnaval dates for 2002 are Feb. 1-17. Admission to the grounds is $5 Canadian (about $3 U.S. ) for adults and kids 12 and up; little ones get in free.
Some activities, including downhill tube-rides and ice-fishing, require an additional (but nominal) charge.
DINING
Quebec City, with more restaurants per capita than any other city in North America, is paradise, especially at the high end and particularly with the exchange rate the way it has been. Expect lots of French, of course, but also Italian, seafood, various Oriental, plus hearty Quebecoise stews and game dishes.
Within the Old Quebec, you won’t go wrong at Laurie Rafael (try the stuffed caribou) or Le Saint-Amour (try everything); Aux Anciens Canadiens is Quebec’s culinary equivalent of Colonial Williamsburg; veal is prepared lovingly at relaxed Le Cremaillere; Le Continental and the Chateau Frontenac’s Le Champlain are the consensus picks for a more formal night out; local seafoodies rave over tiny Le Marie Clarisse; don’t miss breakfast at Le Casse-Crepe Breton; and if the regionally popular poutine (fries topped with cheese curds, all smothered in brown gravy) must be sampled, the nearest Ashton fast-food emporium is as good a place as any. There are lots more, within and beyond the walls. Lots.
OTHER GOOD STUFF
Shopping and gallery-hopping on Rue du Petit Champlain. Tobogganing down the historic triple run on the boardwalk in front of the Chateau Frontenac. The “Memories” exhibit–a kind of Quebec timeline, but better–at the Musee de la Civilisation. The funky bars, clubs, restaurants and shops in the Saint-Jean-Baptiste district along Rue Saint-Jean beyond the city walls. Rummaging through antique shops on Rue Saint-Paul. Two great Catholic churches: Notre-Dame de Quebec Basilica-Cathedral and the 1688 Eglise Notre-Dame-des-Victoires. The restaurants along the Grande-Allee and Avenue Cartier, behind the Parliament Buildings. The view of Old Quebec from aboard a Quebec-Levis ferry on the St. Lawrence.
INFORMATION
For information on Quebec City and Carnaval, call 418-522-3511, or check www.tourisme.gouv.qc.ca or www.quebecregion.com/e/.
— A.S.
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E-mail Alan Solomon: alsolly@aol.com
