For those of you confused by the posts with funny French names, this is Day 5 of my Quebec travel journal. It was originally written on Wednesday, June 8.

When I woke up this morning, I felt like a car wreck. Joshua was awake half the night. We gave him cough medicine with pseudoephedrine in it by accident.

Yesterday, we took him up to the historic (read: tourist) district and had poutine. Ah, if only I could get cheese curds back home. It started to rain the instant we sat down at our nice little sidewalk table on the Grande Allee. Afterwards, we drove down to the riverfront to park and walk around the Vieux Port, the oldest section of the city. This is a collection of cobblestone streets and 1700s-era buildings huddled between the St. Lawrence River and the 200-foot ridge that supports the rest of the city. In the manner of old cities, the history, architecture, and geography are intertwined. The riverfront was settled first, in the 17th century. Later, in the 18th and 19th centuries, things moved uphill. Quebec City’s location is a military strategist’s dream: the St. Lawrence River is the main waterway from the Atlantic to the continental interior, and narrows to about a mile across at the city. Cape Diamond, the aforementioned 200-foot ridge, looms out over the river and sports a fortress (aptly named the Citadelle) at its peak. This was the setting for the major battle of the French and Indian War, prequel to the American Revolution. George Washington cut his military teeth (not the wooden ones) in the battle here.

So, we have 17th and 18th century architecture by the river, 19th century architecture (government buildings, houses, fortress) on the hilltop, and modern sprawl on the other side of the ridge. Our apartment is in the latter section, but if you’re a serious walker and don’t mind climbing a hundred steps, you could make it to downtown (which is up!) from where we’re staying in about twenty minutes. There are sets of stairs all over town to get you up and down. We poked around the Vieux Port for awhile, enduring the drizzle, stroller bouncing on the cobblestones. Most of the old buildings contain fancy tourist restaurants, art shops, or souvenir dives. Gluttons that we are, we decided to walk up the hill. In the rain. In flip-flops. Pushing a stroller. We stuck our heads in a couple more souvenir shops, used the facilities at the Chateau Frontenac (the most famous city landmark, a hotel that resembles a German castle), went back down the hill, and drove home.

We read for awhile (I really like not having cable TV this week!), and the women did more shopping. The family came over and we had a hit-and-miss catered dinner of sandwiches and other finger foods. The tuna sandwiches were awful. We put up the swing, which (if you’ll recall yesterday’s entry) turned out not to be so long-departed after all; it was, in fact, hiding in the basement. I finally broke the ice with cousin Olivier by getting him to feed Joshua his evening bottle. His cold has progressed to the coughing stage, so we went with Olivier to the drugstore to pick up cough medicine. Which (if you’ll recall the first paragraph) turned out to be a bad idea.

So, back to today. Lack of sleep notwithstanding, we went running up on the Plains of Abraham. This is a nice park of grassy rolling hills flanking downtown, up on top of the ridge. The battle I mentioned earlier took place here, and the park features the usual array of cannon, powder magazines, and interpretive placards. While jogging up and down the hills, we debated what to do today and the rest of the week. We agreed that this vacation has been a lot of work, but somehow, we sound like we’re arguing even when we agree.

I lobby for a visit to the museum. There’s a Russian history exhibit going on. Stephanie wants to go (where else) shopping. I think we’ve reached a compromise.

(to be continued)

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.