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| Sunday, 22 February 2004 |
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A winter wonderland QUEBEC DIARY by AJITH SAMARANAYAKE Coach CANADA, Greyhound or Orleans buses are the preferred mode of travel within the country here burning up the roads and connecting the cities and taking the traveller back to a more elemental form of transportation which prevailed before the advent of the domestic airline. The average American will not think twice before hopping into a plane to travel within the US but in Canada the traveller will opt for the bus or the train just as within the country itself the subway, the trains and the street cars form a single network encompassing the average citizen as he goes about his daily round. The long-distance buses thunder across the country by both day and night, through plains and forest, over bridges and through tunnels the monotony of the highways broken only by the periodic gas stations and the Tim Horton's outlets (Canada's answer to MacDonald's) which form the only islands of civilization in the macadamized jungle. And passing through Kingston and Montreal one reaches Quebec, Canada's French fastness, after 12 hours on the road having to break journey at Montreal for three hours. Quebec means 'where the river narrows' and the history of this picturesque redoubt is intertwined with the St. Lawrence River. From the river banks one can gaze as far as the horizon with the landscape taking in valley and plains while all around you are the solid battlements of a garrison city. This is where imperial wars had been fought with the French and the British locked for military supremacy and where in 1759 the British finally triumphed over the French in the battle on the Plains of Abraham. Today the scenes of those ghostly battles have been transformed by the neon-lit accoutrements of a modern city with cafes and shops flanking the historic paths but the provincial and city administrations are at pains to preserve the city's historic character. Quebec is a small city by comparison to others on the map where the sense of the past is palpable. Surveying the city centre one can almost visualise the spectral armies of the past in battle on the ramparts. One is back in the days of the French who are seen here as a benevolent colonial power which had blended with the native Indians to create its own unique culture or in the days of the British empire during which troops from this garrison city had fanned out through the seaways to the colonial outposts in Africa and India in that imperial heyday when the sun was not expected to set on the British Empire. Here were the great ship building yards which provided the engine for colonial expansion and flanking the streets the mansions of the fur merchants, the bourgeoisie of the time grown rich on the appetites of noble ladies in great European cities. More than any other Canadian city therefore Quebec has a sense of the past, which it is determined to preserve even for the contemplation of the tourist. In the island of Orleans for example no big urban development is permitted which means big hotels are out. This is agricultural country with farms and farmhouses to which the jaded town dweller can come to pick his own berries and renew his contact with his roots withered by the urban ways. The people here make their own syrup from the maple tree in their own sugar shacks while the provincial administration also encourages cottage industries and handicrafts. There is exquisite brass and woodwork in the shops here not merely as a ritual bow to bucolic ways overtaken by the juggernaut of industrialism but also as examples of polished and finished craftsmanship fit for any discriminating urban market. Quebec, of course, is that province of Canada which is held up to us Sri Lankans as a model of Federalism. Not that there are no separatist rumblings and ironically the ruling Liberal Party Government is even now in deep trouble after an inquiry by the Auditor General revealed last week that a massive 250 million dollars had been pumped into five corporations friendly to the ruling party for an advertising campaign to fight Quebec separatism. But the point is that the two sides to the politico-ideological debate are evenly balanced and carry conviction while sadly back in Sri Lanka those who advocate federalism or some degree of autonomy to the Tamil provinces are called rude names. What is more influential politicians such as Prime Minister Paul Martin are from Quebec so that the province does not feel unwanted. In fact even as we were preparing to leave Quebec the news is that of the death of Claude Ryan described as the elder statesman of Liberal politics here, who is best remembered for the spirited campaign he had waged to keep Quebec within Canada at the Referendum of 1982. So the spectre of separatism might hover but it is not permitted to cast its giant shadow over Canadian politics. But this winter there are other concerns on Quebec's civic mind. It is the Golden Jubiliee of their winter carnival and for 17 days a parade winds its way through the city's streets. There are floats and bands and men and women in party hats and false noses. The trumpets blare and a huge birthday cake with five candles sways down the streets and a big jolly snowman waves and blows kisses at the crowds under a round Poya moon while returning home after the parade we are reminded of the crowds after the Kandy Perahera. Flash: The landlady at our bed and breakfast place informs us as we prepare to leave Quebec that Parliament has been dissolved in Sri Lanka. She jokingly tells us that we would have to rush back if we want to hand over nominations. |
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