We in the Lower 48 most frequently hear about this huge Canadian province--it’s about twice the size of Texas--when the issue of separatism is being contested. The Québecois (pronounced kay-beck-kwah) have also gotten a lot of publicity for their insistence on French as the official language. We Americans also may have the erroneous impression that Québec is a poor stepchild among the Canadian provinces.

       Don’t stay away on account of these rumors and stereotypes. In Québec, you’ll find no barricades in the streets to keep out the Anglos. And the province, peopled with a large and industrious middle class, is remarkably prosperous.

       Equipped with AAA English-language road maps and a Berlitz pronouncing dictionary of common phrases, a non-French-speaking visitor can manage just fine in Québec. In the big cities of Montréal and Québec City, many speak English well; some even speak it as a first language. The farther afield you travel, however, the more noticeable the Québec accent and the less English you’ll hear, which makes the escapade even more of an adventure. Understandings can always be worked out, for--far from being snooty--the French Canadians are a warm and hospitable people.

       Now’s the time to visit. This year the U.S./Canadian exchange rate is very favorable to Americans. At the time of this report, a $10 meal in Canadian dollars costs about $6 U.S.

       Québec shares a noteworthy geographic characteristic with Maryland: it’s divided by a large body of water--in this case, by the majestic St. Lawrence River, so broad that there are few bridge crossings in the province, and none north of its capital, the City of Québec. When you study a map, you realize how amazing it is that the province can function as a single unit. But it has held together culturally, if not always governmentally, for over 300 years, despite wars, changing national alliances, and ongoing animosities with the English and the Anglo-Canadians.

       My husband (no French beyond “oui,” “non,” and “merci”) and I (fluent French of the Parisian variety) spent a week in Québec in July. Following are some highlights of that trip, along with observations that may be useful to others.

Getting There

        Unfortunately, BWI may be the worst part of the trip--especially if you’re departing on a Saturday morning, when the place can be a madhouse. If you’re leaving your car on a long-term satellite parking lot, be sure to get to the airport at least two hours ahead of time; you may find yourself burning up the clock while circling around looking for a parking spot. Better: have a friend or taxi drive you to and from the airport. Best: park in the long-term lot at the Warren Road light rail stop in Cockeysville (let the MTA know in advance).

       At BWI, you have to schlepp your luggage upstairs for check-in. If you’re traveling on Southwest, unless you only have carry-on bags, check all the luggage you can with the airline, because it’s a really long hike to the designated gate. Remember: the earlier you get there, the lower your boarding pass number, and the better your chances of not being seated next to the lavatory.

      Once crammed onto the plane and belted in, you’ll be in Manchester in the time it takes to read a couple of magazines.

       Manchester’s airport makes you realize what a big-league facility we have in BWI--but it’s sure easier to get in and out of theirs.

       From this point, it’s an easy and scenic three-hour ride to the Canadian border. Reserve a rental car in advance, to be picked up at the Manchester airport. Choose the smallest, most fuel-efficient car you can use, because gas prices in Canada are substantially higher than in the U.S., even with the favorable exchange rate.

The Wright Place

       Manchester’s best attraction proved to be the Currier Gallery of Art, a small but choice museum that clearly benefits from strong public support. In addition to top-of-the-line art, from works by Matisse and Picasso to Wyeth and Calder, it has a unique three-dimensional attraction: the Frank Lloyd Wright-designed Zimmerman House. Located a few miles away, it was bequeathed to the museum by its original owners, along with an endowment to maintain it.

Frank Lloyd Wright-designed Zimmerman House.

       For an extra fee on certain days of the week, a few visitors at a time can be transported to this architectural shrine, complete with the late owners’ possessions--everything Wright-designed or dictated, from built-in furniture and textiles to the landscaping and distinctive mailbox.

       Back on the road, you pass through glorious New Hampshire scenery along Interstate 93, making sure to get ahead of slow-moving vehicles before the road narrows to two lanes for the segment that passes through scenic Franconia Notch.

       From there, it’s a short trek to St. Johnsbury, Vermont--a good place to stop off for refueling as you take Interstate 91 north into Canada. This is the kind of town you’ll feel affectionate toward, like a scruffy kitten: “Aw gee, you poor thing! Let me help you out a little!” And so you’ll probably want, as we did, to stroll the few blocks of St. Johnsbury’s downtown, so clearly struggling to revive itself, and see about spending a little vacation money to help out the merchants.

       The scenery’s exceptionally fine all the way north to the border. Passing through customs (douane in French) is as easy as saying where you’re from, why you’re visiting Canada, and how long you’ll be there. And then, with a press on the accelerator, you’re in a foreign country!

       We took a side road through the lake country to the east of the Interstate, passing through the lush farmland of the Quebec region called L’Estrie. You’re immediately impressed not only with the rolling fields, but with the beauty and abundance of flowers around nearly every home.

       We passed near two high-end resort towns--Ayer’s Cliff and North Hatley--both well-known for their lakefront family-style inns with noteworthy cuisine. Not far away is Magog, more of a tourist place, at the headwaters of Lake Memphrémagog (home of “Memphré,” their version of our “Chessie” and Scotland’s “Loch Ness Monster.”) We pressed on toward the town of Rock Forest, near the city of Sherbrooke, where our $80 room at the Comfort Inn was even more comfortable at $50 U.S.

       French Canada means good food; there are many appealing restaurants in all price ranges along the highways here. We settled on a Greek place, had a fine meal, and chatted up the friendly waitress about politics, religion, customs, and Québec family life. The restaurant was large, filled with people of all races. No one seemed to notice this, let alone mind.

Downtown Sherbrooke

       Under grey skies we headed northeast along a two-lane provincial highway. By this time we’d realized that nearly all roads in Canada are two-lane. You have to look at road maps carefully to see if what looks like an interstate really has two lanes instead of the usual four or more we’re accustomed to in the U.S.

       We shared the road with drivers who were much more cautious than we remembered from a trip years before, when it seemed like the Québecois were in training for Le Mans. We were told things had changed; new speed limits had been imposed, and there’s a national consciousness of the un-civic nature of speeding, which results in accidents, which causes insurance costs to escalate. For the same reason, we found that few people were smokers. During our trip, a new law went into effect to limit further the places where you can legally smoke in public.

The Thetford Mines.

       Passing through French-speaking towns with Brit-sounding names like Ascot Corner, East Angus, Bishopton, Weedon Centre, and Black Lake (not to mention Disraeli, for the noted British prime minister), we moved north from the Estrie region into the Chaudiere-Appalaches region. We arrived in Thetford Mines, with its awe-inspiring terraced quarries that stretch for miles. There’s a beauty in the whorls of man-made access roads that circle down into the pits, but there’s a sadness, too, at the barrenness of the landscape, and the thought that many workers over the years have no doubt suffered from diseases related to the asbestos that’s mined here. On the other hand, you have to appreciate that your car’s brakes work...

       Another hour, and we neared the City of Québec, the provincial capital. By now, it seemed it was really the capital of a whole nation, as you hardly ever see the Canadian maple-leaf flag in the Québec towns; instead, the blue-and-white Québec flag adorned with fleur-de-lys is the one you’re more likely to see fluttering from the flagpoles.

Beautifully landscaped back yard at Le Gite du Docteur, a bed and breakfast

       Instead of crossing the bridge into the city, we took Route 132 along the St. Lawrence, and headed northeast to our vacation destination, the small historic town of L’Islet-sur-Mer. For the next 60 miles, the gentle roll of the land, with colorful fields looking like quilts on a featherbed, followed us on the right, while the mighty St. Lawrence was our constant companion on the left, with shadowy mountains on the distant north shore.

       The sun was setting as we arrived at Le Gite du Docteur, a bed and breakfast we’d found on the Internet after deciding on this general area for our trip. The 130-year-old brick house, still occupied by a doctor and his family just as it was when built, has a beautifully landscaped back yard that backs right up to the St. Lawrence.

View from the deck...

       Our rooms--three nights in La Pomme d’Amour (Love Apple) and two in La Romantique--were handsomely furnished and reasonably priced. Each morning we enjoyed breakfast with an ever-changing assortment of other guests--from an orchestra musician to an attorney to an aesthetician to a high school janitor.

See Gaspé the Better Way

View of the Gaspé Peninsula

Education & Health Care

       Another day we had a lively discussion about the Canadian education system. Though they worry there, as we Americans do here, about the seeming lowering of standards in public schools, the Canadians have built in some safeguards we might want to consider. After high school, a would-be teacher takes two years of college-level foundation courses. After passing exams in these subjects, the student undergoes a rigorous five-year preparatory program combining subject matter courses and gradual responsibilities in classrooms. At several points along the way, students are weeded out if they don’t demonstrate excellence in the subject matter they plan to teach, or if they show a lack of aptitude for teaching.

       While we were curious about the Québecois, we found they were equally interested in how we Americans do things. They could not believe how much we have to pay for college, and could not imagine how we can afford even our state schools. We assured them that it was very difficult, and told them how much debt students and their families often assume in quest of a college diploma, especially from a private college.

       They lamented how much tax they have to pay--for starters, 15% on everything, half for Canada and half for the province, not only for purchases, but also for services. They estimated that, one way or another, half of what they earn goes for taxes, and expressed envy for our lower tax burden. They were surprised to learn we Americans pay plenty, too.

       One Québec newspaper carried a column in which a reader asked a columnist what travel preparations he should make before taking his family on a vacation trip to a Maine beach. He was warned to be sure to take out a health care policy, because the Canadian health plan does not cover you when you travel to other countries. “If you don’t have this coverage, you should know that a day in a U.S. hospital can easily cost you $2,000 or more, not counting doctors,” the advisor warned.

       Though we had heard that the Canadian health care system isn’t all that wonderful--with delays and HMO-style bean-counter approaches to treatments--the Québecois still expressed great pride in the fact that everyone is covered, just as they were pleased that higher education is accessible and affordable. (Those who want it and can afford it can purchase private health insurance.)

       Our host, who practiced general medicine in a larger town nearby, said Canadian doctors typically earn about one-third of of what their American counterparts earn.

       One guest, the esthetician, said Québec is proud of being a middle-class society. “We don’t like to see extremes of wealth or poverty,” he said in French. “It’s not our way. We like everybody to be able to get along.”

The Old City in Québec

Quebec's lower city

       Highlights of this day included gallery- and antique-browsing, people watching, and walking, walking, walking. Lunch was smoked lamb (!) sandwiches at a sidewalk café.

Small-Town Touring

Quebec Street

       The towns north of L’Islet are known for their crafts people, especially wood carvers. We headed there on Tuesday to have a look around, and ended up climbing hundreds of steps to take in a view of a former seigneurie, learning about Québec’s former feudal-style system of government from a costumed guide. The system, instituted under the French Cardinal Richelieu in 1656, called for the establishment of estates (seigneuries) presided over by lords, whose duty was to allot the land and build flour mills. The tenants paid for their right to farm the land by giving a share of their milled grain to the lord. This system wasn’t abolished until 1854.

Landscape Artists’ Mecca

Local artists showing their latest work

       The next day, we learned more about Québec’s history by taking a picnic lunch to the Seigneurie des Aulnaies, a major tourist mecca for the Québecois. The admission fee covered not only a tour of the lord’s house, circa 1853 (not anywhere near as fancy as, say, Hampton Mansion or Evergreen or Homewood House), but a chance to see how grain is milled using the force of a sluice of water diverted from a fast-moving rocky stream.

Interesting house along the St. Lawrence

       We found there was enough time to dash back to the art show for another look, and this time, after considered debate, we bought a painting we’d considered the day before. Its Chagall-esque depiction of the rolling fields of the region is a happy reminder of our trip. 

 Thursday was a day of rest, sort of, with walks in the village of L’Islet, a tour of the church, and a visit to the Musée Maritime du Québec, literally two doors away from our bed and breakfast. This museum is well worth a visit, not only for its wealth of artifacts related to shipping, but for its extensive display of memorabilia about the sinking of the Titanic and several other famous shipwrecks.

       There’s plenty more to do in the area; a visit to Grosse-Ile, where Irish immigrants were quarantined before being allowed to settle in Canada; the Ile aux Grues (Crane Island), with a bird-watchers’ preserve and about 200 old-timer maritime folks in residence ; boat tours; bike rides; and visits to cideries, wineries and even honey farms.

       That evening, our last in Québec, featured dinner at the amazing La Boustifaille, a restaurant featuring traditional Québec dishes that is operated by a commission of the town of Saint-Jean-Port-Joli. Maple syrup-flavored dishes, the classic meat pie called la tourtiere, and other favorite regional comfort foods are featured in the rustic lower level of a barn. (Above it, there’s a summer stock theater; its show while we were there was called “Man Confronts the Hormonal Crisis.”)

       It took most of Friday to drive back to Manchester (more advice: avoid the AAA two-star-rated Econo Lodge near the airport at all costs) for the flight home on Saturday morning. And then we were back in Baltimore, to recommence our own kind of play, “Man and Woman Confront their Post-Vacation Crises.”

Le Gite du Docteur, 81, des Pionniers East, L’Islet sur Mer, Province du Québec; (418)247-3112; www.qbc.clic.net/~gitedoc

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This story was published on August 30, 2000.