Quebec City is somewhat of an anomaly in North America (North America north of Mexico, that is), in that it was designed long before the advent of the car. The Old Town of this four-hundred year old city is a UNESCO World Heritage site and still has its original walls. Which it needed, as the capital of New France in the 17th century.
Quebec City was founded in 1608 by Samuel de Champlain, as France's "dibs" on the New World. It was named "Quebec" because this aboriginal word means, "where the river narrows." And Quebec City is situated right where the Saint Lawrence dramatically (you guessed it) narrows.
The French lost Quebec City to the British in 1759 following the Battle of the Plains of Abraham. French nobility hightailed it back to France and the British took over governance of the region. They allowed the French city to keep its religion and language, which is why French is the first language of Quebec to this day.
I arrived at Terminus d'Autobus de la Gare du Palais at three fifteen pm on the 12th of July. My host, a young, adventurous Canadian named Remi was still at school, so I trundled off to a cafe and messaged him from there.
I sure miss having a working SIM card... where I could, you know, contact people from pretty much anywhere. But I also... I dunno... I like that I can MISS having a working SIM card. It's something that most everyone else in my life just takes for granted. But for me? It's, "HOLY BANANAS! I can call you while I'm on a walk!" or "WINNING! I don't have to borrow the phone of a strange Thai man while waiting for a metro in Bangkok to make sure the travel company doesn't give away my train ticket. I can just call them myself!"
I was thrilled to be staying with Remi. This last year of couchsurfing, I've met many people who have inspired me, energized me, helped me feel like my unorthodox journey through life was/is worthwhile.
Remi will be another one of these. I'm sure of it. The stuff he's done... I'll listen to his stories and I'll have a hard time sleeping. I'll be too busy dreaming.
"I started my journey on June 21st 2015, I hitchhiked across Canada and
all the way up North to the Arctic Circle until Prudhoe Bay, Alaska. I
went all the way south to Chile and Argentina by bus, boats and trains.
Then I crossed by plane to Africa and then Europe, and I went East, with
a bike I bought in Spain, all the way to Ukraine, then to Turkey... I
flew back to México after this and traveled with my bike again ! I'm
back home now and I've been helped a lot on my way and now, that's my
opportunity to give it back to the couchsurfing community."
He HITCHED to the Arctic Circle? Holy bananas. I thought hitching in IRELAND was cold. I would not survive on the side of Arctic Circle roads. Not for five minutes.
Remi met me at Saint-Henri Micro Torrefacteur at around five pm. Brown hair, brown eyes, slim build, friendly smile.
"Aimee?"
"Remi?"
I love when I meet people and I think, "You. You are supposed to be in my life." I doubt I'll ever be the kind of adventurer who could keep up with Remi, but maybe he'd slow down a bit for me. Maybe we could hitch NOT in the Arctic Circle together. Because I have a feeling I will never be that badass.
Quebec City probably fell to the Brits because the French were utterly exhausted from walking up and down all the freaking hills. That being said, Remi led me to his house up one of those hills. While carrying my bag. Which is something I would normally protest (I feel like as a hobo, I should be able to carry my own things. It's part of the territory), however, under these circumstances, not one peep of protestation did I make.
"I was thinking we could get some poutine for dinner," Remi suggested after we'd dropped my bags in his tiny home. A home with walls densely decorated with postcards, bookshelves lined with knickknacks from Mexico, and enough peanut butter to survive the impending apocalypse.
Poop. I wonder if he read on my profile that I can't afford to go out to dinner...
"I saw on your profile that you can't afford restaurants, and I would like to invite you to dinner," Remi immediately put my mind at ease, as if he had been reading it the whole time.
And my new friend bought me an Italian style poutine, of which I finished half.
Poutine... you are unfathomably delicious. And addictive. And large enough to feed a hippo of respectable size.
...
I should probably, definitely stop eating you.
Remi and I spent the rest of the evening watching documentaries and chatting about our travel experiences. We could have kept going all night, but Remi had school in the morning, so he retired to a mattress on the floor in the living room and I took his bed.
"Are you sure?" I shifted my weight uncomfortably. "I don't want to take your bed... I'm happy to sleep wherever. As long as I'm horizontal, I really don't mind."
"No, this is really easier," Remi reassured me. "Since I'm leaving early in the morning, it just makes more sense to be in the living room."
"Okay... if you're sure," I drew the curtain to Remi's room closed and threw myself onto the large, comfortable bed. "Bonne nuit, Remi."
My host had gone to school by the time I woke up and wandered into the kitchen the next morning, but I spotted a note on the table, wishing me a wonderful day.
What a sweet guy, I thought as I helped myself to a cup of coffee. Remi had also told me I was welcome to whatever food he had around.
I will live off of coffee and peanut butter. And it will be beautiful.
I spent the morning sipping coffee, eating spoonfuls of peanut butter and writing. The afternoon was spent walking. The evening was spent wandering and chatting with Remi. And sneaking into the top story of an obscenely expensive hotel and glimpsing a piece of the sunset over the Lawrence.
"The Old City is gorgeous... but I think I like Montreal better," I mused as the sky grew dark. "I like the atmosphere of Montreal. People seemed a bit friendlier and easy-going. Drivers weren't so aggressive there. And none of Montreal is as pretty as Quebec's Old City, but as a whole, it seems nicer. No matter where you go in Montreal, there's something interesting -- a park, an unique piece of street art, a quirky cafe. But here, it seems bland outside of the Old City.
We drank wine and watched a documentary before turning in that evening.
I could do this every night.
"Just so you know, I talk in my sleep," Remi warned me before I slipped behind the curtain to his bedroom.
"Well, you didn't last night..." I tried to remember anything unusual.
But while watching Doctor Who in bed that night, I took out my earbud to better hear the ruckus coming from the living room.
What?
"mumble French mumble FUCK! mumble French" Remi's voice drifted in.
I hope he's okay...
I heard the sound of his sleeping bag unzipping. Scrambling out of bed. Stomping around the kitchen.
"FUCK!"
I started and almost went into the kitchen to see if something was seriously wrong. But then decided to wait just a few more moments to see if Remi would go back to bed. Which he did. Zipped himself back up, mumbled a bit more French under his breath, and drifted off to sleep.
I woke up the next day to an empty apartment and the same note on the table.
"Have a wonderful day! (again)"
If I'm ever able to host couchsurfers again, I'm going to do things like this. Leave notes. Just makes me feel so cared about. Oofta.
Remi had Saturday off, so we loaded into his car and drove to Montmorency Falls, just outside of Quebec City.
Then Remi drove us to Ile d'Orleans, where we stopped once or twice to enjoy the beaches/buy fresh strawberries, but mostly just sang karaoke at the top of our lungs as we sped around the perimeter of the island.
Remi and I enjoyed our final evening together drinking hard cider in a park and eating strawberries from Ile d'Orleans. As helicopters hovered overhead to capture footage of Quebec City's famous festival (I believe Muse was playing...). We shared some final travel stories and discussed places we could meet in the future.
Because I would love to meet Remi again. I just need to up my level of badassery first. Unless all he wants to do is sing karaoke, eat strawberries, drink wine, watch documentaries and nap in parks. Because that is currently my level.
And... I... uh... kind of love it.
