Departing Calgary was a predictable scenario as again the time had come to say farewell to friends. This goodbye however was a little different and mixed with emotions as we had established ourselves in Calgary for several months and the friends we had woven into our lives were profoundly more intimate than travellers we had befriended on the road. But our destiny is set, to move forward and continue our journey - the Zigzag way!

Karl and Benny accompanied us to the airport as we left the luxury haven of Discovery Ridge with our bags loaded in the truck. The trip to the airport has humoured us since as we engaged in a mildly judgmental discussion on how immigrants congregate within their minority communities when migrating to another country. Wasn’t that exactly what we were doing?

After a swift check in and the routine café latte, it was time to say goodbye. We both could see the emotion in Karl’s eyes and it was hard not to shed a tear ourselves. We had both grown very close to Karl in our separate ways and bonded on a very personal level. Adam felt especially worried about abandoning a good friend still in need of support. We know however that we will write often and call when we can.

Our flight was called and so we boarded full of excitement to be back on the road, bound for Quebec City via Toronto.

Quebec is the only French speaking province in all of Canada and has been described to us by many people in western Canada as being behind the times, radical, fanatically patriotic to Quebec and unfriendly towards the English contingent. During the American Civil War, thousands of people from predominantly the French settlements in America fled and ultimately re-settled in the province of what is now Quebec. Strangely most of the immigrants with roots in Great Britain, funneled through into other Canadian provinces, which explains the high density and persistence of the French speaking population in this quarter of ‘Canada’.

It is worth mentioning that the start of summer equates to the middle of the (NHL) hockey finals in which Canada is represented by their only hope the Vancouver Canucks who have dominated all season and have a one game lead in the race for the prestigious Stanley Cup trophy. With the somewhat injury depleted Boston Bruins looking on the ropes, the Canadian’s seem to be able to smell the scent of a wounded beast and are going in for the kill.

Every game stops the nation and the airport terminal at Toronto was no exception. Everybody clung to hand luggage whilst gathering around television screens to watch the first period unfold. We enjoyed the second period in the comfort of our reclining economy seat at 37,000 feet and after arriving into Quebec City and a smooth taxi ride to our hostel Auberge de la Paix, we slipped into St. Patrick’s Irish Pub next door to watch the 3rd period and the Canuck’s victory in the last seconds of the game. It was the most unusual viewing experience of sport I think either of us have had.

We bunked up in our 6 berth 3rd floor room battling in the dark to locate toothbrushes as some lame excuse for a party animal decided lights out was 9.45am. Adam was feeling apprehension at exploiting his rusty, raw French lingual skills on the streets in the morning.

We managed to coincide our stay with a Canadian school trip; twenty hormonal teenagers dosed up on Red Bull. Breakfast was pandemonium as we dodged around each other, with stretched patience, to construct some kind of palatable meal from cereal and bread. Were we so naïve, intolerable and discourteous at that age and at what point did we become so old and grumpy?

A café au lait was needed to get the day underway as we settled on a terrace table at a quaint little restaurant in the bohemian heart of the old town. Canada had dissipated during the night and we had woken up in a small city somewhere in Europe. Every corner was a postcard worthy scene with artisan sketches and paintings lining the 16th century cobblestoned alleyway. It was nice to be surrounded by history that represented more than just financial progress, exploitation and hard toil which was everywhere you turned in Alberta.

We took a walk through the beautiful Notre Dame Cathedral, and admired its stained glass windows and gilded sanctuary. The late European Renaissance style architectural influences had carried over the Atlantic so many generations before us and were now the draw card for those seeking a European getaway on a much smaller budget as Quebec is described as the most European city in North America...

It is impossible to ignore the city’s famous Architectural icon, the enormous Chateau Frontenac positioned prominently on the top of the city hill. Le Chateau Frontenac is “the most photographed hotel in the world”. It’s striking fairytale exterior with sharp spires rising out of its many turrets, numerous levels and weathered turquoise rhombus shaped roofs make it easy to see why. Many international forums, conferences and treaties have been conducted within this characteristic façade. It is even said that the plans for the famous D-day landings in Normandy during World War 2 were etched out at the dinner table of Churchill, Roosevelt and McKenzie. Rumour upholds that the waiter pursued the three leaders out of the restaurant with the napkins on which they had sketched out their war strategies. We know Churchill was not partial to the odd tipple, it seems that nobody was counting the whiskies that night!?

Defying the windy grey weather we made a quick stop inside the hotel to be thrown back into the early 20th century, before reaching the newly decked boardwalk along the St Lawrence River. Passing plenty of joggers we began the climb of steps leading us up and around the fortified wall to the Citadelle. Halfway along, the sun graced us with some warmth as we lay on wooden benches and snoozed for an hour like a couple of park tramps. Finally reaching the top of the cliff we traced the grey stone fortifications of the Citadelle along the western edge wondering how we would be able to cross the 20 foot ditch that was now apparently used for vehicular access. The structure is covered with turf over the roofs of its outer buildings, and the gentle green slope surrounding it keeps the Fort hidden until you are almost upon it. This strategy was deliberately designed and used for the countless charges by oncoming forces to lure them into a vulnerable position or ultimately over the edge and to their fate.

The Citadelle is still occupied by the Royal 22’s; the only French speaking unit active in today’s Canadian Military Corps nicknamed the ‘Van Doo’s’ by the allies who were unable to pronounce Vingt deux. In the Second World War they become infamous for successfully obtaining a key enemy position after vigorous fighting and two previous failed attempts by the American’s and the Allies.

Finding our way into the Fort, via a single lane access road and a tunnel concealed by a couple of switchbacks to fool infiltrators we emerged at the entrance gate flanked by two empty royal blue guard boxes. As an active barracks and training base, mere civilians are not permitted to walk freely inside. To get around this, they offer reasonably priced guided tours. We joined Laurent’s tour group and braved the misting rain and cool winds for the next hour around the compound. There were two museums on site, one occupying the old well-reinforced Powder store the other what used to be the on-site jail to discipline the men who made a nuisance of themselves on site for drunkenness or violent incidents. Both housed nicely presented artifacts, the jail museum having a room dedicated to the Afghanistan conflict with some interesting paraphernalia including a bright blue Bhurkha, and a vast collection of Bayonets from various countries all over the world. An entire ‘cell’ housed a vast collection of medals under stringent security, access to which was exclusively for VIPs; war veterans, medal recipients, immediate family members, high ranking officials and political personnel - by appointment only. The display of original medals included the Victorian Cross, that had been awarded to heroes fallen or not for their acts of bravery in every war that the Royal 22’s had been associated with. It was impressive and moving, even from behind the solid steel bars.

The remainder of the tour was an interesting insight into the strategic importance of founding Quebec at this location on the river and of the territorial squabbling between the colonial French and English. The dispute culminated in a 20 minute battle resulting in a swift victory for the British Empire, but not before substantial bloodshed on the Plains of Abraham, now a lush green leafy park behind the Citadelle and ironically a popular canoodling spot for romantic couples.

We headed back to the charming old city for a beer and to dry off our dampened jackets, eventually settling on an early supper at an authentic French restaurant. What better for a starter than D’Escargots - juicy little slugs in a tasty garlic cream sauce?

Following this fiercely underrated starter was a veal scaloppini done ‘the old way’ for Adam and a Salmon Fume salad for Lana with the aid of a fine bottle of French vin rouge to wash it all down. It was an exquisite dining experience and at that point we didn’t consider ourselves the pilgrims that we are so destined to become, rather members of the upper echelon of fine diners.

The following morning’s breakfast experience was more subdued as we woke well rested despite the snoring from every corner of the dorm, and the early chaos of the students leaving for their day’s activities. Complimentary toast and marmalade was again on the menu as we flicked through the Lousy Planet guide for tips of what adventures could be found outside, beyond the old city walls.

We walked in the direction of downtown to the newer CBD area along the wide tree lined avenues and through some Mayfair style terraced houses in a smart residential zone via a series of unscheduled detours looking for a bank. Passing several souvenir and boutique shops we grabbed a handful of postcards and nestled up in a café dedicated to supplying Quebec with quality coffee beans, to pass some time and drop a line or two on our experiences to friends and family around the globe. Our relaxing afternoon only got better as we found a neat, bustling street full of Boulangeries, Epiceries and other French influenced delights. Squeezing fresh baguettes cheese, pate and fruits into our bag with a cheap bottle of plonk we were soon strolling back along the old city wall and to the tranquility of the shady patio at the rear of our hostel to enjoy the warm afternoon.

With an inclement weather forecast we chose to soak up some more history and culture…indoors. With the ‘ROME’ exhibition on display at the Museum of Civilization it was a perfect starting point. Interestingly neither of us were fans of guided tours but on this occasion we decided it would be a smart choice. Normally when walking through a display of that magnitude you take the time to view all the artifacts, but our guide approached the display from a different perspective hopping from relic to relic across the exhibit imparting upon us her own views of the evolution of history and cultural transformation. She broke down the key periodic movements and the identities and impact of man, God(s) and the spread of Christianity which ultimately set the foundation for the establishment of the Roman Catholic Church through antiquity to modern times. The Pontiff’s decision making has had a profound and lasting influence on the people of ancient and modern Rome and indeed the world, but it wasn’t free.

In the afternoon we used the opportunity to walk the remainder of the city wall which eventually led us to the foreshore and a riverside restaurant. Sangria was the drink of choice as we basked in the sunshine and watched the tourists pile out of the cruise vessel that had docked the previous evening. Walking along the water’s edge gradually led us to a large park and to the base of a 310 step staircase which would take us back to the top and through the middle of Abraham’s battle field. Set for an early night we gradually strolled to our hostel taking advantage of the picturesque monumental fountain outside the National Assembly building. Alive with colour from the multitude of tulip flower beds it was easy to lose all sense of time photographing the spectacular scenes unfolding in front of us as the vintage horse and carts rolled by.

In the morning after consuming our final breakfast at Auberge de la Paix we easily navigated our way down the hill, grateful for the momentum the steep gradient gave us with our enormous loads. 5 minutes later we arrived to the pristine station, Gare du Palais and our train bound for Montreal.