Montreal - Quebec

After a short night, partly due to the neighbor who watched TV until half past one with thin walls, the morning finally starts. Quebec is just under 300 km away, and on the way is La Mauricie National Park. It is famous for its 150 lakes that are located within it. Well, I won't be able to see 150, but a few. The way out of Montreal is good for me. The city is simply not for me in the long run. And besides, I want to go where English is spoken. I still don't realize that there is an even greater challenge ahead.

First, the journey is boring. This is due to a) the landscape, which is not very spectacular, and b) the many cars on the road with me. Somehow, I'm used to lonelier roads in the United States. Considering that Canada has fewer inhabitants than California, there is quite a lot going on here. Are they all here at the moment? When I leave Autoroute 40 at Trois Rivères (which means Three Rivers, damn it), the following happens. It becomes emptier. And it becomes more wooded. My not-so-bad mood brightens up immediately.

First, I stop at a maxi-supermarket to buy essential things: water and beer. Also, a few supermarket bagels so that I remember how good they were in Montreal and cheese. And again, the same picture: no one speaks English. Not even the signs are bilingual, and I read that English is not even an official language in Quebec (it is in the rest of Canada). What am I doing here? The worst thing happens at the cash register. Instead of just cashing me out, the young lady asks me something. I'm about to give her my phone number because I think she's hitting on me, but the buyer in front of me knows a few words. 'For ze shieldren'. I see. So a donation. No hitting on me. I add 2 dollars and sneak away. My decision is firm. Before I come here again, I will learn French. Merde.

At the national park, I prepare myself for the worst, and to my surprise, Maya at the cashier speaks English. And she speaks it really well. She asks me if I'm from England. So not that good after all. But at least it's enough for some small talk, which she uses to persuade me to buy an annual pass for all the parks. She probably can't express that there is also a half-price season pass. Well, it's for a good cause.

The park is breathtakingly beautiful if you like forests and lakes. I do. The route through it is about 80 km long if you only drive on the main road. Unfortunately, the Indian summer has only just begun slowly, but when the foliage is fully colored, it must be gigantic here. I stop over and over again, sit on a bench or take a few steps and enjoy this splendor. And surprisingly, there are few people here. Either it's like this in the off-season, or the few foreign visitors who were here before are causing less hustle and bustle. If you like solitude, you will definitely be well served at this time.

After 4 hours that passed quickly, I continue to Montmorency Falls, a waterfall near my accommodation in Quebec. It is 30m higher than Niagara Falls, so it's already spectacular. But that's not enough to put up even one (!) sign at the turn to the parking lot. I swear - not one. I pass by it three times, then I type in 'parking lot' on my navigation system and finally it finds the destination. And indeed - it roars and splashes mightily. Of course, not as epic as Niagara Falls, but very impressive.

My accommodation has the usual retro chic of many motels. But it's clean, spacious, and has a fridge. To celebrate the day, I don't eat out but get something from 'Chez Ashton,' a fast food joint that only exists in and around Quebec. There used to be 2 in Montreal, but only briefly. Makes you wonder why. Poutine without a Portuguese twist and an Ashton Burger make up my evening meal. And with the dishes, I can't see why it didn't work in Montreal. Very tasty. I would actually give the burger a 1-2, far from McDoof. In the store itself, I manage to place my order with small hiccups because one of the staff members knows a bit of English, but a young man with a girlfriend causes me trouble. He approaches me not very friendly in French. Very rare in Canada. Actually, I've never experienced that before. I tell him that I don't understand him. In French. It doesn't impress him much. His girlfriend helps out. 'Too close'. And I haven't even gotten close to him. I apologize anyway, and when they leave, she smiles at me and shrugs. I think she was just a grumpy person.