Wednesday 17th November - Blues at l'Astral

The meeting with Johanne on Monday had gone well, and because I knew she was a fan of the blues, I invited her to come with me to l'Astral on Wednesday evening, to see a Canadian blues band, rejoicing in the name of Monkey Junk, or Monkeyjunk, or MonkeyJunk, depending upon which website you look at. I was pleased when she accepted. I have almost become used to doing this sort of thing on my own, but it does make a difference when you can turn to someone to exchange a word or two.

The view from my hotel room, looking north east.

The weather had changed – there was an icy wind blowing, with squally rain showers bringing an end to what had seemed like another Indian Summer. Leaves and litter swirled on the pavements of rue Sainte-Famille, whilst grey squirrels went about their business busily tracking down possible food sources. It wasn't unusual to see half a dozen of the little creatures in the space of a 50 m walk down the street, taking any evasive action at the last moment and with the least effort.

The day wasn't conducive to exploration, so it was another 'chilling' day, time to relax, read, email etc. I had arranged to meet Johanne on the corner of St.Urbain and Sherbrooke, just around the corner from my hotel, and near a possible parking spot, shortly after 19.00, so I left the hotel and walked around. It was cold, cold and wet, cold, wet and windy. I took refuge in a bus shelter and waited. I saw the 'red peanut' (Johanne's description of her car) flash past and across Sherbrooke, heading further down St Urbain. It wasn't until almost 19.30 that she managed to find a parking space and that we managed to find each other. It isn't far to l'Astral, so we soon took our places at a table in the 'salle de spectacles'.

The band was excellent, a three piece, with drums, lead guitar and the third guy trebling on guitar, harmonica and keyboards (but not all at the same time). Come to think of it, he did managed to play the guitar and mouth organ at the same time. There was a healthy combination of self-penned songs and standards, and a guest guitarist who joined the band for a few numbers. This, Johanne informed me, was Philippe Deslauriers, well known in Quebec. 

Monkey Junk have collected several awards over the last couple of years,and it wasn't hard to see why. If you like the Blues, and you're in Quebec/Canada/US, go and see them. If like me,you live on the other side of the Atlantic, check out their website and videos on Youtube.

After the show ended I escorted Joanne back to the car park, and then walked back to my hotel, via Benelux. There had been an amazing transformation – from a busy bistro/brasserie it had turned into a venue for the younger set, and was absolutely packed out. The volume level was similarly increased, and the combination of loud dance music and hundreds of young people trying to converse above the loud dance music proved a but too much. I had one glass of Flimzie, a Belgian style abbaye beer, but it was a too fizzy for my liking, and I left quite quickly.

[I bet you drank it all, though!]

True.

Tuesday 16th - cool lady, hot ice!

Tuesday was another bright sunny day, with another evening of high excitement planned. Last year I was able to see my first live hockey match at the Bell Centre.

[Do you mean it was your first hockey match, or your first at the Bell Centre?] 

Both. Since then I have watched a lot of NHL games on television particularly those involving Les Habs – les Canadiens de Montreal. Last season's play-offs were really exciting, so I was pleased to be able to buy a ticket online for the game between Philadelphia Flyers and les Canadiens, scheduled for face off at 19.00 on Tuesday 16^th November. The Flyers were the team who finally knocked Les Habs out of the Stanley Cup, so there was likely to be a bit of an extra edge to the game. 

[Extra edge? Surely that would equate to all-out warfare, judging by the edge which exists in normal games?]

You could be right.

So, anyway, I decided to have brunch at Le Cage Aux Sports, the sports bar at Centre Bell, having first decided to walk there through the city, doing some window shopping on the way, and some actual shopping in the club shop on arrival. I had a very pleasant burger, with salad, and a mug of coffee. I could have stayed there through to the face-off, but that would have meant sitting there for six and a half hours drinking coffee/beer and eating lots of free popcorn. I'm not a huge popcorn fan..

[That statement could be taken in two ways – you could be a very small, or normal, or large popcorn fan, or..] 

OK I don't really like popcorn that much, apart from toffee butterkist, that is.

So I decided to go back to the hotel, and enjoyed a walk through the city, enjoying the unseasonably warm weather, as were many other folk, eating their lunches in the open spaces. Once back at the hotel, at about 14.00, I decided to curl up on my bed with Lisbeth Salander for a while. 

[You did WHAT?]

I said that I decided to curl up on my bed with Lisbeth Salander for a while, and actually I enjoyed the experience so much that the next time I looked at the clock, it was 17.45, just over an hour before face-off. I jumped up so quickly I almost let Lisbeth slip off the edge of the bed, and after a very swift wash and putting on of shoes etc, I rushed out of the hotel. What a girl! Almost made me miss the hockey game.

[Now just hold on a minute! How dare you? How very dare you? Explain yourself! You spend almost four hours with... with this, this Lisbeth person, sharing a bed, and you expect to get away with, “Almost made me miss the hockey game.” You owe your readers an explanation, a printable explanation... NOW!!!!]

Well... sometimes I just get carried away, just lose myself when I find a good book. Lisbeth? Lisbeth Salander? She's the anarchic heroine of Steig Larsson's trilogy, you know “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo”, “The Girl who Played with Fire” and “The Girl who kicked the Hornets' Nest”. When I started reading on Tuesday, she was playing with fire, by the time I jumped up from my bed she was beginning to give the hornets' nest a good kicking, and just for one second I actually didn't want to leave her, such is the sympathy engendered for her by Larsson's writing. Happy?

[You just did that to annoy me didn't you?]

:-)))))))))))

Leaving Lisbeth I was a bit concerned that I would be late for the game, but at 18.10, after what was a very brisk walk, I found myself outside Centre Bell. Forgoing the temptations of Le Cage aux Sports, I entered through a normal portal and found myself in what, at the Sunderland Stadium of Light, is called the 'concourse', except that the concourse at Centre Bell is much more swish. I bought something to eat and drink at Tim Hortons ( roussette de miel, doughnut and coffee) a draw-ticket for 2 dollars (or $2, if you prefer) and made my way up to my seat in the red section. A good seat in the corner area, from which there weren't too many blind spots round the boards. I demolished the sticky, sweet doughnutty things and coffee quickly – an afternoon with Lisbeth certainly works up an appetite ;) .The arena filled steadily, but at, and after face off, there were a few tickets remaining, including one next to me, which allowed me to stretch my legs from time to time. At last, the teams having warmed-up, and the young standard-bearers having speeded around the ice with the Canadiens' banners streaming out proudly behind them, the home team emerged, to an amazing welcome. The huge screens above the ice displayed each player in turn, in dramatic fashion, building up the atmosphere very effectively. When I can work out how to upload my videos to this blog I will.

The game was excellent – one goal for the Canadiens in each of the three periods, with no reply. Another good game for Carey Price, Les Habs' goal-tender, who stopped 41 shots from the Flyers – thus ensuring not only a victory, but a shut-out. It was a happy crowd which exited the arena, into a very wet city. I could have caught the Metro, but decided against it. By the time I got to the Benelux I was quite wet on the outside, so decided to balance the situation.

PS more photos to be added to this posting.

Monday 15th November.

Apologies for the slight gap in postings – it's the mad social whirl to blame!

By Monday morning I guess I was just about down to earth after the thrill and excitement of Saturday, but then, in order to write the blog for 13^th, I had to relive the whole thing – no great hardship. It took me most of the day to write it actually, apart from an expedition to the Complexe Desjardins, a large shopping mall beside Place des Arts. There is a fast food mall within a mall there, with several coffee outlets and food from around the world, and this has become my first stopping off point during the week, for a cafe du jour (grand) and croissant/cookie at the Cafe Depot.

Before leaving the UK I had purchased a ticket for a Steve Hill concert at La Chasse-Galerie. in Lavaltrie, a small town on the banks of the St Lawrence river, about 45 minutes drive from the city, and was contacted on Facebook by one of his fans who had read my postings. Actually, 'one of his fans' is not doing Johanne justice. She loves music, and the music of Steve in particular, and tries to see very possible concert she can. Would you believe that she had flown across to France in September, to see a couple of Steve's concerts in and near Paris? What kind of person would fly across the Atlantic to see their favourite artiste perform?

[I can think of one]

Ah.... yes.. well I guess that's why we got on well together. Two of a kind.

So,,, anyway, Johanne very kindly offered to give me a lift to Lavaltrie, and we arranged to meet on Monday evening,

[To give her a chance to change her mind, was it?]

Well maybe, but after a pleasant meal and a pint at Les Trois Brasseurs in rue St.Denis, she didn't. The only thing that spoiled the evening a little was the parking system in Montreal – it's very complicated. You can only park on certain sides of the road, on certain days, at certain times of the day/night and with a certain number on your windscreen. One of those conditions was not satisfied, so when we got back to her shiny new red car, there was an unpleasant addition to the windscreen – a $52 dollar parking ticket.

[You didn't really need to add the word 'dollar', there because you used the $ sign – that as most people in the civilised world know, signifies that the number following represents an amount of currency in dollars]

Thanks, but that really interrupted my flow. So Johanne dropped me back at the hotel having confirmed the lift on Friday. Na, na ne na na!

[…...........]

Actually we met up again on Wednesday, but that's another story. [I can't wait!] You'll have to!!

November 14 - to Montreal

For me Sunday morning began very early, the events of the previous evening having made it almost impossible to get to sleep, and then actually impossible to go back to sleep once awakened. The curtains had remained open since there was little chance of anyone peeping in, up there on the 12^th floor, and so I watched the sky take on its morning colours, going from dawn's early grey light to a beautiful sunrise.

It seemed like an eternity, but 8.00 am eventually arrived and we checked out of the hotel, which was still thronged with folk trying to release their inner genies. Some of them looked as though they had put an inordinate amount of effort into raising their inner genies the night before.

Once in the 'truck', what we would call a people carrier at home, we set off in search of breakfast, which turned out to be a Cora encore. The restaurant, which was in a residential area not far from the hotel was quite busy – Sunday morning breakfast at Cora's is obviously a popular and regular event. For me it was a fruit cocktail smoothie, followed by the Cora Special and a couple of mugs of coffee.

[Those of you who have just begun reading this blog could refer to an earlier posting, in which the Cora Special is shown in its full glory.]

Well.... thank you. That was almost helpful.

We had clearly arrived at the right time, because having finished our meal, we almost had to fight our way past the queue of folks waiting to enter. The early bird catches the worm, as they say.

From Cora's we went to a couple of Archambault stores, since Louise wanted to buy some books and albums, Sylvain wanted to look at some musical instruments, and I wanted to buy two albums ('Luce', which I had downloaded from iTunes, and 'Les Filles de Caleb' a recently released folk-opera featuring several well-known quebecoise artistes, including Bruno Pelletier and.. ...of course, Luce Dufault). I ended buying two or three more albums including Steve Hill and the Majestiks, Lucky Uke (you're not going to believe that one when I play it at home) , Ian Kelly and The Kings of Leon. [That was four more, actually]

We didn't manage to get the Luce album at Archambault – the first store didn't have a copy and the second had a rather battered one at a very expensive price. Now at this point I should add, just in case, by some strange chance Luce herself reads this, that if that had been the only copy available, I would have been prepared to pay more than the $24.99 they were asking, but Louise convinced me that we should try the Wal-Mart next door. I did, and there was the same album for $12.99.

[ He still feels slightly guilty, in case he has contributed less to her earnings than he should.]

We had a look at some beautiful guitars and amazing drum sets before once again setting off in the truck, which Sylvain pointed down the Autoroute 40 towards Montreal. It was an interesting journey through thickly forested areas, the silver birch trees shining in the morning sun. There were warning signs for orignals/moose, but we didn't see any. We stopped at a Tim Horton's for a comfort break about half way to Montreal, and took on our own refuelling – for me coffee and a roussette de miel, I think it was called. The young lady behind the counter was a bit sour-faced, not quite accepting that her enquiry as to whether I wanted anything in the coffee had remained unintelligible to me. I had to turn to Sylvain for help, such was the speed of her vocal delivery.

Then, it was back on the road. We had a swift detour through Trois-Rivieres, which wasn't the most attractive of towns, and then left the autoroute again at Repentigny, where Sylvain, louise and their two sons live. Louise wanted me to play a trick on Alex, the older of the lads, who works in a Dollarama (equivalent to our Pound Shop, I guess). She wanted to test his customer service skills, and in particular whether he would make use of his English. So in I went, stood in the queue, at the check-out where he was working and when it was my turn, asked in him in my most correct English if there was a dog section in the store. He looked at me slightly puzzled, and replied something like:

Yes we have. It's over there and how are you?”, because he had recognised me as soon as I had entered the store. [Once seen, never forgotten!] Louise was peering in through the shop window behind him, and soon realised that the game was up. I did at least buy some Dentyne Fiery Cinnamon chewing gum.

We then went on to Louise and Sylvain's home where they kindly showed me around, and where I met son number 2, Felix again. Music is clearly very important in the household, with a wonderfully decorated and set up music room in the basement area. Brilliant – my grand-daughter Lucy would have loved it, as would my great-nephew James.

I had a nice cup of tea and we watched a bit of the NASCAR race from Phoenix, Arizona, not too far from where my big bro Peter will be reading this blog (Alamogordo, NM) Alex arrived back from work, and then Sylvain and Louise brought me the rest of the way into Montreal, to my temporary pied a terre in the city. Thank you for everything!

Perhaps at this point I might digress [that wouldn't be too unusual, now would it?] My plea, ( attached to the end of the last posting), for those reading it to confirm it by adding some form of comment, has been fruitful. At least I now know that there are people in the UK, Quebec, New Mexico, Belgium and Russia having a look! Thank you to Louise, Bill, Lawrence, big bro Peter, Frauke, Iraida and Daria, and to any one else who is reading it. (If you''d told me, you would have got a mention too!!)

Having settled in to my hotel room, I ventured out into the city – not too far as it happens, because just around the corner, 3 minutes walk, is a micro-brasserie called BENELUX. I knew that just the night before it had been the venue for a beer festival and the launch of a book about the grand-crus des bieres. I was hoping that there might just be something left of the dozen or so real ales which had been on offer, but sadly, as the young lady behind the bar indicated, each beer on the long list written on the blackboard had been crossed out. My goodness, they must have supped some stuff on Saturday night, I saay, they must have supped some stuff on Saturday night.

[ How many people are going to be aware of that 'catch-phrase', as perpetrated by Coronation Street's Fred Elliott?]

Now it's you who's causing problems – I didn't mention Coronation Street or Fred Elliott – I doubt whether Louise, Iraida and Daria have heard of either, and I don't think Bill watches ITV. You've just complicated matters!

[Oooo, sorry, I'm sure!]

As I was saying, they must have drunk a considerable amount of beer on Saturday night, but although the list on the blackboard was crossed out, that didn't mean there wasn't any beer to be had. On the contrary, there was a second black-board, with a second list. The only problem was that they weren't cask ales but keg beers. It is at this point that I surreptitiously glance around me, to see whether there are any members of CAMRA lurking about, just in case I am accused of heresy. Oops, there's at least one member reading this, ( I'm supposed to be writing an article on locally brewed beers here in Quebec for our CAMRA branch newsletter – and Lawrence is the editor!)

It was the same story as that at La Barberie. Just look at this list:

Jack / ale à la citrouille : 4.9%
 Psyclo / pale ale au seigle : 5.5%
 Magnum / pilsner : 5.0%
 Abricot / cream ale : 4.6%
 Armada / american brown ale : 6.0%
 Novis / pale ale belge : 5.3%
 Yakima / american Pale Ale : 5.5%
 Okto / marzen : 5.5%
 La Marge / stout : 4.8%
 Moisson / "wet hop" bitter :4.5%
 Lux / ale blonde : 5.0%
 Barley Wine 2010 : 10.0%

Now I know it's in French, but if you walked into a brewpub and saw 10 beers on offer, all made on the premises, you would be interested in tasting some of them, wouldn't you? I did, and I have to say that that I thoroughly enjoyed them, those that I sampled that is. I introduced myself as a member of CAMRA to Guillaume, a knowledgeable guy behind the bar, and asked him to explain the difference between his cask and keg beers. Sadly I asked him in French. He launched into a long but passionate exposition of the work they do at Benelux, and of the market forces which play upon the sale of beer in Quebec. In essence, I think it would be fair to summarise his statement by saying that the major part of the market in Canada is controlled by the big brewers – Molsson, Labatt etc, and that whilst there is a market for real ale, it is a small market of real ale enthusiasts, who are not the mainstay of the clientèle using establishments like Benelux. To be able to experiment with the brewing process, to be creative in the same way as our smaller breweries in the UK, they need to be able to sell enough to make it worth their while. Their sales are not sufficient to move cask ales quickly enough, and therefore they have cask ales as specials, supplementing the same ales which are supplied from kegs. Enough of this, or I won't have anything to write for Lawrence. Suffice it to say that I sampled Terre Ferme, a flavourful light coloured grand cru, and then a tasty black IPA (6.8%) the name of which escapes me, before wandering back to my hotel.

Zzzzzzzz!

Saturday 13 November - Quebec, Vanier et Luce Dufault

How do I begin, to tell the story of how great a day can be,

To tell the story of what this day would mean to me?

Well it's difficult, I can tell you!

I didn't sleep too well after my visit to La Barberie on Friday evening, but I can honestly say it wasn't due to the beer consumed. In fact I didn't sleep too well on Saturday night either, for reasons which will become clear later in this posting. Saturday 13^th November was a day I have been looking forward to for a while, and it began well. Safely (!!) showered and dressed, I packed my stuff and went down for breakfast.

Anyone watching might have thought, “My, there's a healthy chap, having orange juice, a banana and an orange for breakfast.”

 [What about the croissant and coffee, then?]

OK, fair enough, but they might still have thought “My, there's a fairly healthy chap, having orange juice, a banana, an orange, a freshly baked croissant and a cup of coffee for breakfast.”

[Anyone watching wouldn't know about the eight beers sampled last night, and the sandwich, crisps and two chocolate bars bought from the petrol station on the way back from La Barberie!]

Sometimes, just sometimes, don't you wish you didn't have an inner voice, or a least had one that didn't keep interrupting your train of thought? […...]

Thank you! [You're more than welcome]

To continue, having secured my luggage in a room downstairs I left Hotel le Priori with the intention of exploring the old town, up near Chateau Frontenac, the landmark building which dominates the city and is now an expensive hotel. Reaching the old, walled part of the city from the Quartier Petit Champlain requires the individual on foot to climb the steep rue de La Montagne, or to make use of the funicular railway which facilitates a much less energetic ascent. Malheureusement, as one might say, the funicular was funackulered!

 [cheres amies quebecoises et russes, et amis quebecoix, ne recherchez vous pas pour ce mot dans vos dictionnaires anglaises – il n'existe pas. Quelquefois cet homme est trop!]

 I was just having a bit of fun, adding a bit of vernacular humour, hang on, I could have just said the funicular was vernaculared, might have been more amusing.

 [It might have been, but it wasn't!]

En effet, in fact, the funicular was not working [that's better – would have saved so much trouble] because of major building works being undertaken around the front of the Chateau, which means that the quickest way up there is via rue de La Montagne, past some of the famous wall frescoes which depict the history of this extraordinary city.'

Because access to the area in front of the Chateau is barred, I wandered further around the town until I found my way to the old fortress which overlooks the river and the old port. It was a crisply cold but beautifully bright morning, with a strong breeze blowing from the north, the ubiquitous quebecoix flags fluttering vigorously against an azure sky. [You see, when you try, it's really quite descriptive] . Having taken in the magnificent view, looking north and east, I wandered back down to the old town, popping into one or two shops on the way. I had almost reached my destination when a large dark coloured vehicle, which was driving towards me along rue Dalhousie, braked suddenly and pulled to a halt beside me. Was it all to end like this, bundled into a dark vehicle, sold into some people-trafficking plot, destined to end up serving the every need of some drug and alcohol fuelled celebrity in downtown Saguenay?

[Where on earth does this drivel come from, I ask myself?]

Fortunately, the answer to this question [his, not mine!], was “no” [I'm still waiting for the answer to mine!], as a front window was wound down, revealing Sylvain and Louise, my very good friends from near Montreal, who were coming to pick me up and take me to another hotel, from which we would all venture forth, The Three Lucequetaires, to see Luce Dufault live in concert in Vanier, just to the north of the city. I retrieved my luggage from the hotel and off we went to Hotel Clarion near Ste Foy and the huge road and rail bridges crossing the river. We were in very nice rooms on the 12^th , the top floor, with an amazing view. Louise and Sylvain went off to visit family, and I blogged for a bit and rested a while, and watched the clock constantly until it approached 5.00 pm., the allotted time to meet up again and set off to have supper before the show. I have to tell you [you don't have to, you just choose to]... alright, I choose to tell you that there was something strange going on in that hotel. There were people with sashes and badges, and magic lamps, you know, the kind from which, when rubbed, genies appear. I'm not saying that they were walking round carrying/rubbing magic lamps [just as well, because it wouldn't have been true], but there were pictures of magic lamps stuck all over the walls, and slogans exhorting those present to “Release your inner genie!” Oh my! It was some form of conference organised by Toastmasters, an organisation designed to promulgate the art of public-speaking among the wider masses, (or perhaps it was a front for some lamp-swapping or occult genie raising!)

We drove to the Vanier suburb of Quebec city, to establish the whereabouts of La Chapelle des Arts, the converted chapel which was the venue for Luce's concert. Having found it and tied it down so it couldn't escape while we went for a meal,

[Don't be stupid – there's poetic licence and then there's.. there's... oh, just get on with it!], we went for a meal at a Quebecoix chain restaurant called Normandin. It was very pleasant, very busy and served good family fare. I had a tasty chicken brochette washed down with a glass of Pepsi. Then, back into the car and the short journey back to The Chapel.

We parked in the car-park [sounds logical] took some photos outside, and then went in. there was a sprinkling of people in the billeterie/bar/waiting area, but we were very early. At this point I should tell you that Luce had very graciously provided the tickets for the three of us, to be collected at the box-office/billeterie. We asked, but there was no sign of any tickets for us, so one of the guys disappeared through a door to make further enquiries. After a little while another chap from the Chapel staff emerged from the same door and not only provided us with the tickets, but with the offer a drink from the bar, on Luce. Merci millefois, chere Luce! It waasn't too long before the doors into the auditorium opened, and we all filed in. the seats provided were excellent – centrally positioned, and nicely raised so there was a clear view of the stage. It was not a large auditorium, but of the size which makes for a much intimate experience. There was soon a full house, and an expectant murmuring ran around the salle.

Finally, enfin, the house lights dimmed.... there was a hush....two shadowy figures emerged from the darkness and smoke at the rear of the stage and took their place at either side – on the right Jean Garneau, guitarist and musical director, on the left Jean-Sebastian Fournier, keyboards, bassist, accordionist – musiciens extraordinaire, les deux. The music began, atmospheric lighting adding to the drama of the amazing sounds generated by Jean and Jean-Sebastian... and then, in silhouette, the tall, slim figure of Luce as she moved forward into centre stage. I only wish this was a multimedia presentation which would allow me to recreate the visual and auditory impact of the moment, but it isn't so you will have to take my word for it. Most of you reading this humble piece will know why Luce's music means so much to me as an individual. I owe her a lot – in effect Luce and her music changed the course of my life – it might sound sentimental and dramatic, but it's true, none the less.

So, sitting there with Louise, Sylvain and the rest of the packed auditorium it was time to be immersed in the wonderful emotive atmosphere generated by Luce and her musician friends. It was time to smile, to dance, to clap, to be torn apart, to be comforted, to feel sad, to feel good. It was time to enjoy the good humour and perfect comic-timing of this raconteur, or is it racontresse, with her infectious laugh which generates such a warm and sympathetic feeling in the auditorium. And for me, at one point, it was time to be made to feel very special.

The songs came from Luce's extensive repertoire, with songs in English as well as French. There were old favourites which drew special recognition from her fans, and there were 'newer' songs from her recently released album 'Luce'. Some of the songs from her earlier albums were given startling new treatments, with amazing arrangements by Jean Garneau. Des Milliards de Choses, for example, was the first song that I heard Luce sing, on an internet radio station, a song that led me order two albums from Amazon Canada, and which, effectively, captured me. It was almost unrecognisable on Saturday, with an introduction which brought goosebumps to my goosebumps and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The music, the voice and the lighting combined to amazing effect – simply stunning, beautifully stunning!The list, if I was going to give you a list, went on each performance bring rapturous applause from the audience, who were in generous and vocal mood. I'm not going to pick favourites, but as always, Belle-ancolie, Richard Seguin's beautiful song, was a highlight. Cyndi Lauper's 'Time after time' was given a refreshing and lively up-beat make-over, and Carol King's “Will you love me tomorrow” brought back many memories. There was “My Funny Valentine”, an MP3 version of which Luce had sent to me before the CD was released, and “The water is wide”, “La femme a la Mer”, “Tu me fais du bien”

 [excuse me, I thought you weren't going to give a list!],

 sorry, but then there was “Fire and Rain”, and I've just got to tell you about that.

When that Icelandic volcano with the very long and unpronounceable name erupted earlier this year, it put paid to my plans to see Luce in concert in Montreal, and by way of letting her know, I wrote a bit of a parody of Fire and Rain and sent it off as a message. Imagine my delight when she dedicated the song to me at the Club Soda concerts, and Jean-Marie, Luce's husband, having video'd the song, they posted it up on YouTube for me(and lots of other fans) to watch. It's still there if you want to have a look – just search for Fire and Rain, Luce Dufault. That was amazing. What happened on Saturday was even more amazing! In introducing the song, she recounted the history of our initial contact through MySpace, the concert in Ste.Hyacinthe in May 2008, the trip in November 2009 to see the launch of her album, which in fact didn't take place until the New Year, the volcano-effected trip in April, and the fact that I was there in the audience with two friends, her superfans and friends Sylvain and Louise. The house lights came up and she asked Sylvain and Louise to identify themselves, to much applause. Then it was my turn, and as I raised my hand in acknowledgement, a lady behind shouted for me to “Stand up”, which Louise further encouraged me to do. So, there is this old baldy guy from England, standing up, and being applauded by the entire audience, and even more magically, by Luce and her two musicians also. Wow, that's one way to ensure further album sales in the UK!! (Sorry, just joking!) If I could have auditioned for the role of the Cheshire Cat in Alice in Wonderland, I would have got it, without a doubt!

One more mention of the concert itself – I have heard Leonard Cohen's “Hallelujah” sung many times, by many people, including UK X Factor winner Alexandra Burke and up to Leonard Cohen himself, and even a Spanish version sung by Israeli Yasmin Levy. If there was a Richter Scale for song performances Alexandra's would have rated quite well, Yasmin's would have definitely caused some emotional damage, but for a live performance, Luce's version would have, and did, bring the house down. I wish my family and friends back home could have been there – they would have known exactly what made me want to fly across the Atlantic solo (Now come on, there were about 200 people on the aircraft!) Oh shut up you, you know what I mean!

The encore ended, the standing ovation over,the fans filing out – smiles and nods of encouragement from complete strangers. An amazing feeling. An invitation to go back stage. A swift word and hand-shake with Jean and Jean-Sebastian as they were dismantling their equipment. And down to the dressing-room to share time with marathon runner, dog-walker, comedian, mother, dish-washer and lovely lady Luce Dufault.

If only I could see her again before.....[don't tell me you've forgotten!!!!] …..........oh yes, St.Andree-Avelin, Saturday 20^th, at 20.00! Oh YES!!!!!!

Oh by the way. I would love to know if I'm just writing this for Barney the Labradoodle to read in his leisure moments, or whether anyone else is looking at it. If you are, would you mind leaving a comment, even if it just your name or pseudonym!

Un Lapin Saute et une Barberie formidable, really this time

Having recovered from the severe blood loss described in the last posting, I ventured forth into the cold but bright Quebecoix day. Blogging  is quite a time-consuming pastime, so it wasn't longs before hunger pangs began to interfere with the wandering about through the narrow streets of the Quartier Petit-Champlain. Prior to my visit to Quebec city I had done a little investigative work by means of the internet, into the various delights of the city, and had enjoyed the reviews of one bistro/resto which now appeared, as if by magic, before me: Le Lapin Saute (pretend that there is an acute accent above the last letter of the word saute, please.)

The billboard outside The Theatre de Petit-Champlain

I entered in hope, because it looked quite busy, and sometimes lone customers aren't too welcome, taking up a table where two, three or even four might sit. This was not the case at The Fried Rabbit,( no it doesn't quite have the same ring to it does it?)  I was greeted cheerfully by a waiter who guided me to a table, took my coat and asked if I would like something to drink. By some strange inherent  radar-like facility, I had spotted that there were local beers on offer, and so I decided to sample La Chipie, a rousse at about 5%. The pint was delivered along with a glass of water and a menu by a cheery young lady who danced attendance upon the tables in her charge. My choice was soon made - potage florentine to start, with mijole (acute accent) de porc sauce chasseur, pommes et bacon. The soup was very pleasant, enhanced by a vigorously ground helping of ground pepper, and served with freshly baked bread rolls. Even better was to follow - the porc/k was beautifully cooked and full of flavour. My schoolboy french led me to expect apples to be included in the dish, but it turned out to be the other kind of apple, de terre that is. The beer went down well too, it's 5% adding a certain warmth to the situation.The meal was rounded off with une crepe a l'erable (too many accents to list individually) - I'm actually becoming more fond of maple syrup products.

The meal completed, and me complete, I paid and left (it's always better to do it that way round), so was startled when the you g waitress came chasing down the street after me.. [No, don't say that you have that effect on young waitresses].... I wasn't going to, I was going to add that I had left a parcel on my table, so there! It was now about 2.00 pm, and I suddenly wished I was in Spain. No disrespect to Quebec intended, but I was suddenly overcome witrh a need for siesta, so returning to my hotel I rested for an hour or so, before setting off on a quest for bieres quebecoises.I knew that La Barberie, a famous Quebec microbrasserie wasn't too far away (20 minute walk, not far from the Gare du Palais, the rail station). I was furnished with another map and some instructions on how to use it to find la Barberie by the very helpful young lady behind the reception desk. (Not the fairy, another one)

It didn't take long, about 20 minutes in fact to find my way to La Barberie, housed in a fairly functional building in rue de la Roche, and I entered with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Preparatory research had indicated that there was an option of purchasing a carrousel of galopins - yes that's what I thought too - what would I do with a roundabout of galloping horses.Just kidding...the carrousel (French spelling)in this case is a revolving device which allows 8 galopins of beer to be placed in front of those wishing to sample 8 of the beers on offer. Each galopin holds about about a third of a pint. I found a seat at the bar and placed my order - un carrousel de galopins s'il vous plait monsieur. Et voila, there it was.

Eight beers, each numbered, so that one could refer to the menu on the blackboard. The menu referred solely to beer - the only food on offer were bowls of crisps, available freely on request.  As I sampled my first, number 4: amere cure, a rousse at 3.4%,- legere aux houblons explosifs, finale caramnelisee - a good starter I thought, I was engaged in conversation with a gentleman sitting to my left at the bar. Alain, as he was named, turned out to be a circus director, who had worked all over the world, but was back in his native Quebec, and working on a project involving an equestrian circus. Fascinating. I slowly worked my way through the carrousel:#

No. 5: Blonde biologique - 4.5%: legere 100% bio. Finale florale.
No 7: Pale cream lime et framboise. Rafraichissant aux aromes, juteux de fruits.
No 6: Rousse bitter (4.5%) - aux houblons explosifs et la finale aux malts caramelisees.
No 5: Sansfacon:  (blonde 4.5%) blonde legere, arriere gout florale
No 2: Blanche aux mures (5%) biere de ble aux forts aromes rafraichissants de malte  et de mures
No 1: Blanche miel et agrumes (7%) Biere de ble aux forts aromes d'agrumes
No 8: Stout double chocolate (4.5%). noire toute en rondeur, aux aromes de chocolat mi-amer.

Hmm. Having sampled, well, finished all 8, I decided to try a pint of No 6, the rousse bitter, which was the only one of the eight to be clearly labelled as a cask ale. the others, I was informed have a minimum amount of gas added, I then finished with a verre (half) of the stout - delicious.

If anyone is wondering why the brewery is called La Barberie, perhaps this picture might help:

Le carrousel de 8 galopins

 
Check out their website for more info: http://www.labarberie.com/

On my walk back to the hotel I passed the railway station, which is transformed at night by clever lighting.

La Gare du Palais

I was back in my room by 10.00, and decided against a further expedition to  Le Bistro Pape-George - too much of a good thing isn't a good thing!