Percé
July 2nd, 2009
The next day we arrived in Percé.
Percé is the smallest town I've ever been to. Not necessarily literally, but that was the feel of it. There was no McDonald's, no Starbucks, no Tim Hortons. No chains of any sort, in fact (except for gas station chains). All, and I mean all of the locals (as well as most of the tourists) were white. All of the locals were francophone. On menus, the same dishes came up over and over again. The fish of choice was cod, and the shellfish of choice was scallops, and the crustacean of choice was lobster. Every restaurant had "cod tongue" on the menu--if there had been a McDonalds, I bet even they would have served cod tongue. (No, we didn't try it.) It felt very much a monoculture, but a friendly monoculture.
Friendly, that is, until you speak English. Speaking English = kiss of death. At least that was my impression, exaggerating only slightly. Over and over I felt the subtle cold shoulder whenever I spoke English, and saw the not-so-subtle warming of people to my husband whenever he revealed his fluent French.
Percé is also the most touristy town I've ever been to. It's positively engrossed in tourism. They have the biggest colony of Northern Gannets in the world right next door, and they have not failed to take notice of this fact. So you can take boat tours every hour on the hour to go see the gannet colony. And there are gannets carved on peoples' fenceposts, and on chairs, and on trash cans. And there are merchants who will happily part you with your money for lovingly crafted ceramic gannets, and gannet t-shirts, mugs, hats, and squeaky toys. It's enough that by the end of a week, you might be expected to feel just a wee bit tired of hearing about gannets, even if you're me.
But you won't.
And if you do, you'll never admit it.
Last but not least, Percé is a beautiful town. It lives in the shadow of the mountains, and at the rocky coast of the north Atlantic. Percé Rock--a huge limestone formation just offshore--makes a good focus for landscape photography.
From the top of Mont Ste-Anne:
1680x1050 wallpaper
In the category of "wish I lived there":
Mike got the next two pictures on one of our few fair days. The first is the tourist pier. Percé Rock is visible at the middle left, Bonaventure Island at the right. The second is the Fleurdelisé, flying proudly over Maison du Pecheur, the best restaurant in town. In an odd and slightly unsettling bit of history, the building that houses Maison du Pecheur was a former hangout for the people who later founded the Quebec Liberation Front.
July 2nd, 2009
The next day we arrived in Percé.
Percé is the smallest town I've ever been to. Not necessarily literally, but that was the feel of it. There was no McDonald's, no Starbucks, no Tim Hortons. No chains of any sort, in fact (except for gas station chains). All, and I mean all of the locals (as well as most of the tourists) were white. All of the locals were francophone. On menus, the same dishes came up over and over again. The fish of choice was cod, and the shellfish of choice was scallops, and the crustacean of choice was lobster. Every restaurant had "cod tongue" on the menu--if there had been a McDonalds, I bet even they would have served cod tongue. (No, we didn't try it.) It felt very much a monoculture, but a friendly monoculture.
Friendly, that is, until you speak English. Speaking English = kiss of death. At least that was my impression, exaggerating only slightly. Over and over I felt the subtle cold shoulder whenever I spoke English, and saw the not-so-subtle warming of people to my husband whenever he revealed his fluent French.
Percé is also the most touristy town I've ever been to. It's positively engrossed in tourism. They have the biggest colony of Northern Gannets in the world right next door, and they have not failed to take notice of this fact. So you can take boat tours every hour on the hour to go see the gannet colony. And there are gannets carved on peoples' fenceposts, and on chairs, and on trash cans. And there are merchants who will happily part you with your money for lovingly crafted ceramic gannets, and gannet t-shirts, mugs, hats, and squeaky toys. It's enough that by the end of a week, you might be expected to feel just a wee bit tired of hearing about gannets, even if you're me.
But you won't.
And if you do, you'll never admit it.
Last but not least, Percé is a beautiful town. It lives in the shadow of the mountains, and at the rocky coast of the north Atlantic. Percé Rock--a huge limestone formation just offshore--makes a good focus for landscape photography.
From the top of Mont Ste-Anne:
1680x1050 wallpaper
In the category of "wish I lived there":
Mike got the next two pictures on one of our few fair days. The first is the tourist pier. Percé Rock is visible at the middle left, Bonaventure Island at the right. The second is the Fleurdelisé, flying proudly over Maison du Pecheur, the best restaurant in town. In an odd and slightly unsettling bit of history, the building that houses Maison du Pecheur was a former hangout for the people who later founded the Quebec Liberation Front.
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