QOTD: "I don't make jokes. I just watch the government and report the facts." - Will Rogers
Reading: Fred Moody, I Sing the Body Electronic
Listening to: nothing
Decluttering accomplishments: did massive amounts of household paperwork, with more to go
I did intend to write about last weekend's excursion right when I got back, but my flight home was delayed and the metro was delayed (I later learned a train had derailed, so they were down to one track) so I got home in a state of complete exhaustion Monday night. And the work week was completely insane. The phone was ringing off the hook and every time I looked at my email, we had three more urgent things to take care of. I just now realized that I never did find time to look at the media paper that Kurt updated, but that's not due until at least noon tomorrow, so it can be handled in the morning.
Anyway, I didn't mean to be so mysterious about the weekend, but I did want to present folks with a fait accompli. Another life list item done! In this case, I went to Quebec and stayed at the ice hotel. I'll write a real travelogue, with photos, at some point. The short version is that, yes, they do build the hotel each winter out of snow and ice, though there's a bit of cheating in that they use a snow-making machine, since the natural snow is not heavy and dense enough. I drank my welcome vodka out of a glass made of ice and slept on a bed of ice. You don't sleep directly on the ice, actually. There's a sheet of plywood, a foam mattress, a pile of pelts (reindeer, i think - whatever it is, it sheds hair all over everything), and a very warm sleeping bag. The tricky thing is getting out of the sleeping bag in the morning and getting your clothes back on. (You can sleep in just long underwear and a hat.) I was almost warm enough - I'd have liked an extra layer of socks (or maybe those chemical foot warmer things). My nose, being exposed. did get cold. Overall, it was interesting for a night, though I have no desire to repeat the experience.
A few people did give up and go upstairs to the lodge in the middle of the night. I lasted all night and had the real shock in the morning. I couldn't put my gloves on until I found my glasses, which took some time, so my hands froze. But the real problem was that I hadn't anticipated that my toothpaste would freeze. The washrooms are in an attached (heated) building, but there's no hot water and the Colgate tube was frozen solid! I finally managed to warm it enough in my hands to squeeze out a drop and could only be amused as several other women made the same discovery.
I was also supposed to go dogsledding, but they didn't have the reservation. I'm actually convinced that there are no dog sleds in Canada, since this is the second time I was supposed to go dogsledding there and wasn't able to.
I took advantage of the trip to see a bit of Quebec City, too. Quebec City exists largely to prove that it is possible to be a French speaking person and not be completely rude. I think it was founded by people who were exiled from France for being too nice. It's architecturally quite pleasing, but they do a surprisingly bad job of snow plowing and shoveling given their climate. Monday morning's moderate snowfall quickly turned into a disgusting slippery and slushy brown muck. The path along the river was a nice picture postcard white, though, and it's pretty impressive that ferries still cross the Saint Lawrence to Levis in the winter. There's also good food to be had at fair prices - CAD15 (roughly ten U.S. dollars) gets you a three course meal, including a glass of beer or wine. (At the Ice Hotel, dinner is included. You eat at the restaurant up at the Duchesnay Lodge, and the price for a four course meal without alcohol would be CAD25 if you walked in. Still quite good value and the food was outstanding, with a fennel-infused wild rice pilaf that accompanied my salmon being particularly notable.)
It was good to get away, but not the most restful weekend. And, as I said already, the work week was bonkers. At one point on Friday, I actually said, "Let me just do two things at a time." And, several times, I had to stop and say, "now, what was I doing." It's all a blur. I know I reviewed a few documents and went to some meetings and wrote up notes from the meetings and revised briefing charts and explained every single bloody bullet on somebody else's chart to someone over the phone and made umpty ump phone calls. And I vaguely remember that it was colder here than it had been in Quebec, at least once you factored in wind chill, and walking to the metro on Friday morning was sheer torture because it was right into the wind and even with two pairs of gloves on (thin liner ones and my good polar fleece ones) my hands were still cold.
No wonder I was not really up for leaving my apartment this weekend. I was still in my pajamas in the late afternoon yesterday when a policeman came to the door, investigating a burglary downstairs. The only time I left my living room at all today was to take out the garbage. Oh, well, it is still better to be too busy than not busy enough.
Copyright 2003 Miriam H. Nadel