Have you ever heard a fox screaming ? Tonight I might.
It took me about 5 hours to drive down here, and I regret no minute of it. Could have been a 4,5 hours trip but, I *might* have been delayed by the extremely sexy foam of the cappuccino spotted through the window of »le bonnet d’ane » in Quebec. Despite my full donkey mode – one bag on my back, one on the front – I walked in the bistro, and ordered a très gros cappuccino. First, a spoon of foam. Creamy but light, smoothing its way to my heart. Follows the sip giving you the elegant moustache. Another sip, and again, awakening my palate and with it all my senses. OK, ready to go.
Open road, one eye on the speedometer, I am singing out loud. I will survive! Not so sure about the baby fox I spotted on the side of the road tho … Last mirror check , he was carefully checking left and right and right and right again. Eyes back on the road.
I cannot even begin to explain how it feels to drive here. No breaking news, I am not a good driver. I am easily bored and distracted behind the wheel, with a dangerous tendency to fall asleep. Let’s not start the directions chapter. But here it is somehow different.. for starter, I do not get lost on this side of the world! I kind of love driving here. There is enough space, the curves and lines are inviting and there is always the chance to spot a deer!
1.5 hour after I left Quebec behind, I arrived in Trois-Rivières. A tea break to soften my sour throat, a quick wifi steal to check »what to do in T-R? » and I am off to the old city. Tiny place, yet full of charm. Walking those streets is like time travelling and I feel a bit like Mary Poppins. I know where I’d like the chalk drawing to take me. Sunbathing in the romantic garden facing the Monastery, I am shamelessly day dreaming. The horn of the cargo cruising on the St Laurent throws me back Rue des Ursulines. Could not find a whole lot to complain about. Without being breathtaking, Trois Rivieres is a cute little town.
Rocked and raised in the shadow of Paris, I have a spoiled version of what a city should be like. When the Opéra Garnier and Concorde by night are standards, it becomes quite hard on other cities in the world to compete. I have loved visiting and getting lost in many places, but I am not often impressed. Paris is stressful, busy, messy; but before all that she is alive, romantic and timeless. A duality nourishing our love/hate relationship. It never takes too long before I go back to Paris and feel in love again.
Even though my call for nature is prevalent, I am happy to feel something for the Canadian cities. I like how unfading they are and how ordinary they make me feel. Everywhere I walk I feel like being a part of something bigger yet already adopting me. The space is huge, stunning; but people are warm and down to earth. I do not feel like a disturbing stranger… I basically instantly feel at home in a place I have never set foot in before.
No deer spotted on the way to Lac Supérieur. But this place – again – is magical. It is like finding the forest that inspired all Disney movies from my childhood. Speeding rabbits, chatty frogs, greedy squirrels, nifty birds… After the highway, the maze. The more trees I count, the less network I have. And here is it, nestled between lakes and emerging peaks. My home for 2 nights is a winner for it is lost in the most peaceful place ever. Behind the main house are scattered adorable small cottages. Eastward along the pond, a sinuous path is leading to the top of the hill. Few minutes of absolute silence later, I find myself facing a valley sheltering troll’s houses, fairy in trees and adorable monster in puddles. I might as well never come back.
The cabin standing here is the most perfect place I have seen so far. It looks like heaven. It smells like freedom. Caressing the rough wood its made of, I want to get its essence under my skin. Whoever made this has just given me a precious gift. I am on top of the world, my feet dance around this tiny house, and as I fly around, ideas keep flourishing in my happy head.
In the moonlight starts the frog’s concerto. One might think night is for sleep, but here rules are definitely different. Precious warning from my host, regarding the eventual fox scream… Mix between emasculated dog and winning baby, the screaming fox is not the kind of company I wish for tonight. Keep you posted …