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I had long been hoping to find my way to the province’s capital, Québec City, whose old city (Vieux-Québec) is known for its quaintness. And besides, it would mean I get to hear a good dose of real Quebecois French and finally tell the difference from the Parisians (and Jewish Moroccans) I hang around with more often.

Naomi and I had planned for a while to make it there for their Carnaval de Québec, taking place from the 26th of January through to 11 February. (Over this same period, Montreal too had a Fête des Neiges (snow festival), although only on the weekends and not as big a deal as the Quebec event, and although I attempted to make it there it never quite happened.) The first couple of weekends were eliminated, so we planned to find a way up for the weekend of the 11th. We would find a hostel and stay for the weekend.

But when we attempted to find a hostel room a couple of weeks before departure, all were booked up. We were left with a few options: call Chabad and see what they could organise, go up during the week, or just take the trip on Sunday. (No, sleeping outside wasn’t an option.)

As the idea developed, a daytrip in a rented car became appealing, even exciting. We would get a minivan of friends together, and start early in the morning, return in the night (three hour voyages each way), maybe even giving people some time to study for exams. Once we had got 6 people confirmed, we looked more closely at the rental prices and discovered that it would be more expensive than planned, because on top of the $67 for the rental would be $27 for being under 25-years-old, as well as a tank of petrol. And no one under 21 was allowed to drive, which meant I was doing it, and that was a bit scary, having only driven twice on short trips on the right side of the road. Still, even then, divided by six the price easily beat the Orleans Express’s offering of a two-way bus ride for $64 at student rates.

But the costs came out even lower in the end: we found a seventh person (who also happened to be over 25 and like driving), and had a cancellation from two, leaving us (after a small balagan of actually trying to get the car first on Saturday night and then on Sunday morning) with only a carload of 5, with rental at $34 for the day (plus gas).

So around 8:30 on Sunday morning, piles of food (some taken from an enormous Ghetto Shul surplus on Saturday), Naomi, her friends Chloe and Andy, me in the passenger seat and Avraham at the wheel, all climbed into our rented Ford Taurus, fussed about what music might play on the way, and set off north-east to the capital. Along the way we got to know each other a little better, eating carrots and grapes (well, those of us that touch fruit/vegetables at least); most of us got some sleep- thankfully not the driver; and despite the number of books and maps and printouts on board, failed to actually plan what we would do once we got there.

After spending some time deciding where to park, we eventually found somewhere that would cost $7 for the day, took our lunch and walked up into the centre of the Old City in search of a carnival (to aid us, Naomi had visited for last year’s carnival and could find her way around a little). Before long, and after Chloe finding something for lunch, we stopped opposite the Quebec Parliament Building for a lunch. Naomi and I had packed smoked salmon bagels and a large Chinese cabbage salad which we shared with the others, although only Andy took. We ate while our bodies began to freeze, and a woman took photos of us (which don’t seem to have appeared in the carnival’s photo gallery).

Behind us, as we ate, was a collection of snow sculptures (student-made as we soon found out), and to our left a castle of ice which seemed to be making a lot of noise, particularly from the mouth of a woman speaking excited French in a very Quebecois accent. Having the motivation of isolation from the motherland and the need to create an identity in a world dominated by English, Quebecois French probably maintains many more old features than are currently popular in France. Nonetheless, having trained myself to French French speakers, it sounds very yokel, very country; it is a slow, melodic French. And it is somewhat more distinct outside of metropolitan Montreal, which was the novelty of hearing the accent in Québec City.

So we walked around looking at the snow sculptures, but Naomi promised that there would be more and better, so we didn’t need to take our time so much on those (and she was right). We took a walk through the ice palace where children were being entertained by silly performers on an ice stage, and I discovered that you can take neat photos of people’s faces distorted through bricks of ice. I suggested we take a group photo through the ice, but the idea didn’t take, which is a pity because we didn’t end up with a single photo of all five of us.

Some of the events were “free” with a $10 “effigy” that would last you the whole carnival. But it was the last day and we were only there for a few hours, so it wasn’t worth getting one. I was a little confused by the name “effigy” too, which to me usually represents something people set alight in the likeness of a detested fellow human being. In this case it must have just meant mascot, as people had these little cutely-smiling plastic snowmen hanging from the zippers of their jackets. One man I saw had a collection of Carnaval de Québec mascots—in the form of badges, sew-on patches, hanging effigies—dating back over 50 years, all attached to the breasts his jacket, as if from an extraordinary and overly perilous military service.

Relatively the day we had chosen was not so cold, and was nice and sunny. Nonetheless there were regularly complains of how cold it was (of us, only Avraham is a Canadian) and we had to make stops inside. To this end, we found ourselves inside a souveneir shop (where Avraham bought a plastic horn for Purim), inside the Kraft/M.Christie tent (where we played a game of “which heater gives off the most heat?”, and wondering how to turn upside-down to warm our toes on the hanging radiators), and eventually for an extended break at the Metro tent.

Yes, nearly everything there had a big corporate sponsor’s name plastered all over it. In particular, the Kraft tent—apart from being warm—was essentially a place with large games for children, and snacks for both them and adults, that would indoctrinate towards eating Kraft products. It, for instance, involved children putting together giant plastic sandwiches containing giant plastic Kraft Singles (they seemed plastic anyway) into a less-giant but still plastic oven, or making a giant plastic Oreo (owned by Kraft in Canada), before being given rewards by young staff in bright uniforms.

Many of the events of the carnival were kids-focussed. They involved stages where clowns or dancers would perform bright happy tunes in big, puffy, warm suits. A few of the others were a little more adult, such as the outdoor bar run by SAQ (the only business that sells bottled liquour in Quebec), and the in-betweens like some of the rides, like a zip-wire / flying-fox from one hill to another, or rubber rafts down bumpy inclines, or a little bit of downhill skiing. There were also things like the human foosball (table soccer) game, or horse-drawn sleigh rides. The smaller kids had a ride the whole time, as their parents pulled them along on sleds! We went for the raft, despite Naomi complaining that it wasn’t her sort of thing and she felt sick. After the awesome rush of tubing a few of weeks before, the 15 second ride in a slow, 12-person raft over a few bumps was not really that much of a thrill. And then there are those times when adults to kids’ stuff too, like with big fluffy bears.

Chloe (having on principle refused any fruit and vegetables in the car and at lunch) had been holding out for some sweet fried dough, which she shared with Andy, and later some icy maple syrup from the sugar shack. By the time she had this in her hands (and dragging from her lips) we decided we’d had enough Carnaval and wanted so see the Québec part of it. So we headed back to the city, surrounded by the music of a procession that began the carnival’s closing ceremony.

As well as just wandering the streets of the quaint-by-fame Old City (vieux-Québec), among the places we had to visit—mostly for Chloe again—was a chocolate shop/museum. And once we were in there, it took quite some time to get out. Although the patches of information on chocolate history were in French and so inaccssible to most of us, it was still interesting to see their collection of chocolate artworks, materials used in chocolate production, and so on. They also brought us samples every now and then, but most fun was just to stand and stare as new batches chocolate were created before our eyes: fill, scrape, cool, fill, scrape, cool. Scraps and blocks of chocolate were all thrown into a big sink full of remelting chocolate. The woman doing the work soon got a little self-conscious about the peanut gallery, but with a few laughs kept going. Eventually we succeeded in pulling Chloe away, and returned to the street.

We walked further up, and found ourselves in another store, selling ceramics, candles, and other household things with a good discount. Naomi acquired a few candles to replace hers which are on their way out. We continued up a hill to find a more trendy scene with plenty of outdoor ice pubs, but people were anxious to get back so we didn’t stop in them. And although Avraham had been hoping to do so all day, we weren’t quite sure whether we had found the route along the city walls we had hoped to walk, and it was getting a bit too dark to safely walk it. So instead we found our way back to the Town Hall parking lot, took turns in the bathroom, warmed up the car and headed out of the city.

Naomi drove most of the way this time (just don’t tell the rental place), while the rest of us slept for patches of the three-hour ride. Otherwise, there was some good snacking and some good conversation before we finally got back to Montreal, dropped home Andy and Chloe, then Naomi, then back to Hillel after filling the petrol tank, from which Avrumi would drive the car back to National down the road before finding his own way back home.

All in all, it was a nice day. If nothing else, having a road trip was fun, and at $18 a head + food it was the cheapest travel I can count in my time in North America. Québec was maybe not as quaint as advertised, but we chose to go in busy season; and on that matter, the Carnaval was a whole lot more commercial than I might have hoped. Still, I had a fun time, saw some fun things, and met some fun people. And that, so they say, is what counts.