16 June 2026 – And so, at 6:15 a.m. as promised, I’m off VIA Rail in Ste-Foy, then onto the shuttle bus, and…

across the St. Lawrence River into Quebec City.

I decide a walk will do more for my addled head than extra coffee. Out I go, up to the surviving section (4.6 km) of stone ramparts that, as of 1608, were being built to encircle and protect Nouvelle France.

The Kent Gate is still imposing, still a witness of Then, living with us in the Now.

I walk on along to Porte Saint-Jean, look back at the juxtaposition of Then and Now:

young bums on ancient stones, intercut by ancient canon, their owners busy on 21st-c smart phones.

I begin to wonder a bit about the inherent balancing act for old cities. How do you honour and protect that heritage, without freezing into a museum that denies modern life?

I can’t answer the question, but I do see more examples of this city’s balancing act all around me. A new building sliced in between old ones, for example, here in Place D’Youville, just outside the ramparts…

and, also in Place D’Youville, young-culture skateboarders twirling past one of the city’s abundance of old-culture statuary (here, Les Muses).

All this history, all this European ambience. Quebec City is a magnet for tourists.

Another balancing act.

On near-by Rue Ste-Anne (where tourist me happens to be staying), I look into an alcove and see some local push-back:

Indeed. How does a tourist-magnet city welcome and please tourists, without being overrun and turned into a cartoon? I head downhill on Rue Saint-Jean — a tourist thoroughfare — and see something of the current mix. It’s eclectic and strongly patriotic, both Québécois and pan-Canadian.

High on the wall, half-way up the block beyond the Rue Sainte-Angèle sign in the foreground, you’ll see the Cows logo…

a PEI brand, offering terrific ice-cream along with a range of whimsical cow-image clothing & accessories.

Right across the street…

less nutritious, and surely just as popular, the lure of Mary’s Popcorn.

Cheerful kitsch here at my elbow, with its own patriotic statements…

from the red “not-for-sale” Canadian cap, to the mock Quebec licence plate, with its chosen example of distinctive Quebec swear words.

(Flashback: when I joined the fledgling Oxfam-Québec as Director of Projects, the rest of the team, all francophone, promptly taught me how to swear “comme une bonne Québécoise.” And I still can.)

Yet more patriotism, a classy clothing shop with its proud boast in large letters on the window.

Yay for that, but it’s a bit confusing, no? A Canadian enterprise that chooses to name itself San Francisco?

At the next intersection, an old building whose lettering and style live up to the elegance of the building itself…

plus, across Saint-Jean in a second-storey balcony window…

a curious moose, keeping track of us all.

Enough musing. I’m hungry.

I park myself at a Bistro Hortus patio table and listen to the young, stylish (and stylishly tattoo’ed) servers switch smoothly from French to English as the occasion requires.

My choice is the “Salade biologique au chèvre des neiges” (goat cheese). I speak French with the server, and she offers me the same polished charm she offers everyone else. She does break composure, however, wrinkling her brow slightly when I ask her to bring back the menu for a moment — until I explain I want to take a picture of the salad description “comme une bonne p’tite touriste.” This causes her to burst into genuine laughter, and after that we have an amused good time together.

Fortified with salad plus café au lait, I walk on and discover Artisans Canada. Since I’m already wearing a Tilley hat with a little wooden chickadee pin on it and a MEC backpack and my Newfoundland earrings (thank you again, DJ), I fit right in. I make a few purchases, and I now suggest that — should quality Canadiana interest you — you might have a look for yourself.

Looping ’round to head back uphill to my vielle-ville hotel, I cut through the very modern plaza skirting the slightly old City Hall (1890s), which sits on the site of the very old Jesuit college (1730s). Trees, shrubbery, spring blossoms, and seating from which to admire it all.

Plus fountains of water that shoot into the air at regular intervals…

and have these two little girls in fits of laughter.

Judging by speech patterns and body language, these are local people relaxing in a local park, even as tourist season rumbles into high gear.

It’s a balancing act.