Step Back in Time at The New France Festival by Suzanne Wright I’m practicing my best royal wrist wave even though I’m dressed as a 17th century wench as I parade through Quebec City on a sunny August afternoon. I’ve chosen to masquerade around town as a wench after rejecting the more cumbersome and heavier bourgeois and royalty costumes. I’m walking at the tail end of the Parade of Giants in the annual New France Festival and it’s a ball to wave at the crowds lined along the street, some of whom even clap, though they have no idea who I am or why I’m here. In the taxi on the way from the airport just a few days before, as we drove along the St. Lawrence River, I watched the city come into view, and spied men, women and children all strolling in period costumes for this five-day event in August. Who knew I’d join them? Launched in 1997, the festival—the cultural highlight of the calendar year—celebrates the French presence in North America, apt since Quebec City is bursting with European charm. Think of it as France without the jet lag or attitude. Each year a different aspect of life is highlighted; this year it’s economy and commerce as depicted in more than 1,000 performances by 800 artists in period costumes at 20 venues, all within walking distance of each other. There are jugglers, storytellers, acrobats and street entertainers along with booths staffed with descendants of Quebec’s founding families who will help you explore your French genealogy. There is also a tented area dedicated to the first nations or tribes of North America. And the cost? Only $7 CAN per person for the run, making it very affordable for families. Founded in 1608 by Samuel de Champlain, Quebec City’s motto, appropriately, is “I remember.” Quebec literally translates as “where the river narrows;” Mark Twain dubbed it the “Gibraltar of North America.” Old Quebec City, vieux Quebec, is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, for obvious reasons: its charm is intoxicating. The capital of the province of Quebec beguiles with history at every turn, horse-drawn carriages and cafes that line the street. With a year-round population of just 700,000, it draws 6.5 million visitors annually. Many a Canadian calls it his or her favorite city. The only walled city in North America, Quebec City’s citadel is functional, its fortifications preserved with three gates leading into the upper town. A sprawling park, the Plains of Abraham, affords you a view of the Appalachian Mountains (yes, there extend this far north) in the background. The archetypal symbol of the city is the world famous Chateau Frontenac, perched high upon Cap Diamant with its commanding view of the St. Lawrence River. Now a Fairmont hotel with 618 rooms and a talented chef, Jean Soulard, it was built at the request of William Van Horne, president of the Canadian Pacific Railway as a stopover for travelers. The 19th century chateau conveys the majesty of place with its green oxidized metal roofline. Nearby, the Rue de Tresor, a delightful, skinny street where artists display their paintings, is fun to browse. The Quartier Petit Champlain, a narrow cobblestone street, is studded with quaint shops built along the cliff face. The city is compact enough to see in a few days, large enough to walk off all the great food you’ll eat. A funicular connects the upper and lower towns. The lower town is snugged up to the river and the busy docks. I’m staying at the tres chic Auberge Saint Antoine, a boutique hotel built on one of the city’s richest archeological sites. Built in 1992, the hotel integrates three historical buildings of the 18th and 19th centuries, along with a wharf and battery dating to the 17th century. On display in the public spaces and rooms are some of the 5,000 fascinating artifacts found on the site. The rooms, however, are thoroughly modern. Some might call the décor stark, I say it’s restive: hushed tones of sage, beige and cream throughout, great lighting and a supremely comfortable bed. My room, Les Chamber des Mysteres, overlooks a sweet little courtyard and has an ingeniously designed bathrooms with seafoam green subway tiles on the walls, hip This is How We Live toiletries in ginseng and macadamia, a fold-down iron and board and a night table with a lit artifact under the glass. Adjacent to the Musee del la Civilization, and just steps from the Place Royale, where much of the festival is unfolding, the location is ideal. The town appears to have melded its two cultures—British and French—to showcase the best of both worlds to a visitor. It’s not hard to fall under the spell of Quebec City, especially when my faltering efforts at French (calling upon long-ago high school classes) are met with a smile and, invariably, English. One evening I join group taking cooking lessons at Les Artistes de la Table, a school run by Quebec native Louise Martineau, who lived in the U.S. for years, working in Campbell Soup’s test kitchen. What she’s whipping up now is considerably more up market. In a couple of exceedingly fun hours spent in the beautifully restored bank building, I learned to make sautéed duck foie gras with onion confit, tartar of Quebec lake trout and meat pie. I’d be told that the best pictures of the city were to be had on a boat. The Societe des Traversiers du Quebec, a ferry that shuttles between Quebec City and Levis, provides you will unparalleled shots. From the deck, you can clearly see the two levels of tow, the red and taupe buildings, the series of winding walkways and staircases that connect the upper and lower city, the whole tree-shaded panorama. Back on land 30 minutes later, I watch a man struggle with where to put his cigarette butt, finally opting for a sewer drain when he couldn’t find a nearby trashcan. Quebec City is impeccably clean; there’s even a graffiti zone set aside for artists so they won’t deface public buildings. They don’t. Instead, they’ve created masterpieces on several bridge pilings. Quebecois refer to the Grand Allee, or central boulevard, as their Champs-Elysee. Off it, you’ll find the Musee d’art Inuit Brousseau, the first museum south of the artic dedicated entirely to Inuit art and culture. The works of self-taught artists isolated in vast northern regions include breathtaking carved figurines. Across the street, at Conti Caffé, a get a taste of modern Italy. The stylish urban décor, is an apt foil for beef carpaccio kissed with truffle oil and lobster ravioli in pool of saffron. Quebec likes to point out that it—not Vermont—produces the most maple syrup in the world. One day, I take s ride along the Chemin Royal to the Ille d’Orleans, a patchwork of lush, rolling rural landscape. The Route de la Nouvelle France, now lined with gracious heritage homes is where it all began. Just 20 miles long, five miles wide, with a single 42- mile road encircling it, the island of 7,000 fulltime residents is full of “quiet things,” as our tour guide says. There are fields, chapels, grazing animals and red and green roofed houses. For gastronomes, there’s The Gourmet Route, dotted with orchards, a chocolate museum, vegetable cellars, a winery and flourmill. It doesn’t surprise me to learn that this is the wine and cheese capital of the region. Back in Old Town, at the farmers markets at Place de Paris, I purchase tickets for $1 CAN each and wander from booth to booth, sampling different morsels of the province’s finest produce: egg and veal sandwiches, chicken strips, lamb sausages, grilled goat cheese, hard cider, crepes with maple sugar, raspberries. Delicious, filling and very affordable, the market is patronized by kids and adults both. Timed to coincide with the festival is Les Grands Feux Loto-Quebec, a one-of-a-kind fireworks competition featuring top-ranked international pyrotechnic competitors in Montmorency Falls Park, just 15 minutes from downtown. Montmorency is 100 feet higher than Niagara Falls, with a thundering wall of water that plunges 272 feet into its basin. A majestic natural amphitheater, its a spectacular backdrop for this nighttime exhibition. The competition began in 1995 and has since attracted more than 30 teams from Asia, North and South America, Africa and Europe. It’s a dizzying display of color bursting overhead, with soul-stirring music an accompaniment to the crowds oohs and aahs. Manoir Montmorency, the hotel perched at the top of the falls, is home city’s finest chefs, Marie-Chantal Lepage. The hotel’s large terrace serves as a reception area for VIPs. We pop in for dessert. The next day, I return the wench garb to the shop where I rented it. Back home now, with no one to wave to and without a lace-up bodice, I daydream of Quebec City. After all, it’s not every day you get to be a wench. The New France Festival will run from August 3-7, 2005. For more information, visit the Web site at www.fetes.nouvellefrance.qc.ca.
			Above: Founded in 1608 by Samuel de Champlain, Quebec City’s motto, appropriately, is “I remember.”