À bout de souffle

If Disney World had a Paris ride it would look like Quebec City. Clean and colorful but a poor replacement for the city that so gracefully captured my heart. I went there the other day, I drove through the entire state of Maine and crossed the border into la tres belle ville de Quebec not knowing exactly what to expect. I was looking forward to speaking French and seeing the architecture, buildings crowed together along narrow streets, up hills, along the river. And eating nutella crepes.
But I have to say I was a bit disappointed.

It was festival. And a little to busy for my liking. Although 400 years of independence is not too shabby. People crowded the squares and climbed the steep staired alley ways. Salsa music (performed by aband from Texas) pumped through the air. Bodies moving. Rythem. Beat. Step, step, turn.
It was beautiful to watch them perfect their moves. Perched along the edge just ouside the crowds, I admired people's outfits (pants with a dress is apparently the "it" thing up here...who knew!?) from the steps of a local hotel.

I was unable to find even one crepe vendor (saddest news ever!) but I did manage to witness the most amazing hula-hoop performance. Very inspirational:) When I told my mom about her she told me I should try something like that in Portland.
I am convinced my mom is not a "real" mom. Who encourages stuff like that!? Yay! I love her. But that's not my career path. Although it would be super handy to be able to play guitar right about now...a little strumming on the street corner...i could make some bank. But alas...

I was pleased to find I didn't have the same breathless, heavy chest feeling I had the last time I was in Paris. The circustances of which are emotionally tangled and clumsy. It was hard to be in my favorite city and be so sad. But Quebec didn't feel like Paris enough to make gasp. Or maybe I'm just okay. I guess I'll just have to stroll the cobblestone streets of Montmartre again to really find out.
Okay by me.