I knew this road trip would be interesting once the elderly server at Long John Silver’s in Mentor, Ohio called me “Daddy.” We were near the start of a 14-hour drive to Quebec City. Why Quebec City? It’s not exactly Bordeaux, but for us Midwesterners with time and/or budget constraints it’s one of the more unique places you can reach in a day by car.
Halfway through the drive to Quebec City, we made a two-night stop in Toronto. We got rained out our first night, but I tricked the family into walking a mile from our Airbnb for tacos. “It’s just down the street.” We returned a little damp, but at least the view from our Airbnb’s rooftop was cool.
The next morning, while on a 9 a.m. solo run to one of Toronto’s many dispensaries, Slash walked right by me. Top hat and everything. In case you don’t know, Slash is a guitarist with Guns N’ Roses. He’s worked with Michael Jackson and often appears on “CELEBRITIES YOU DIDN’T KNOW WERE BLACK!!!” clickbait lists. I didn’t ask him for a picture. I don’t like bugging people, and I still haven’t figured out what to do with my hands while posing. Plus I was more focused on replenishing the ol’ edibles stash before the kids arrived.
After my celebrity encounter, I continued walking through Toronto’s Little Portugal neighborhood, where I was welcomed by a rabbit mural. The streets were busy with fit remote workers walking dogs and old folks taking up the sidewalk’s fast lane. I found shade under a shop’s awning and talked with a man whose company paints street art that doubles as advertisements for companies like Spotify. A college girl maybe 10 feet away cried while consolidating her luggage. Some dude wearing post-coital basketball shorts and a backward baseball cap gave her a side hug and walked away. She looked straight ahead, still crying. Seemed like a classic case of “flew’d out” and disappointed.
Amber and the boys, all late risers in the summer, caught an Uber after breakfast and met me in Little Portugal. From there we began a 20,000 step, three-mile bike ride, and two hour subway ride tour to absorb as much of “The 6ix” as possible in one day.
First, we walked down Graffiti Alley. It’s exactly what it sounds like, except “alley” should be plural. It was fun to take pictures of art that expresses opinions I’ve been hesitant to state in recent years for fear of losing my cushy corporate job that pays for these trips. Maybe everyone does have their price.
We spent the next few hours in Kensington Market before going Downtown. The former is a multi-block strip of vintage shops that’s billed as Toronto’s “most vibrant and diverse neighborhood.” But all of Toronto’s diverse. Maybe even more diverse than New York City. I mean, it feels like the kind of place where a Black American/Jewish Canadian rapper/actor/R&B singer would come from and become the Gibson household’s favorite artist. But back to Kensington…you can also find “illegal” mushroom shops openly operating. Bonus: You also might find Amber taking a stretch break after our first 10,000 steps.
Yonge Street runs through Downtown. It’s where we found every store known to humanity. Just random stores next to each other. Like, there was a strip club near Ikea. Anyway, we hung out and ate poutine and poke. That’s Amber and the boys below. We walked a couple of miles from Downtown to the Harbourfront for happy hour at NBA Courtside Restaurant where we got to see Shaq’s big ass shoe.
At the Harbourfront I figured out what to do with my hands while posing for a picture near a big ol’ ship. We also rented bikes and got lost before finding the Distillery District. Take note, America. Canada has protected bike lanes (and national health insurance) and is therefore truly a developed country.
We ended our tour of Toronto in a neighborhood called The Beaches. It was almost dusk and Woodbine Beach began to clear out. The boys got knee-deep in the water before the freeze smartened ’em up. From there, we walked down Queen Street East. It’s the main Beaches strip and full of young folks who look like they get a lot of likes on Instagram.
We people-watched and ate tacos. As we walked back to the bus stop a group of girls yelled something. At the boys, not my old ass. The boys yelled something back, and I gave them a mini-lecture about not “scaring the baddies.” After like 80 minutes on the bus and subway (we went the wrong way on the subway), we were back at our Airbnb.
We made the eight-hour trek from Toronto to Quebec City the next day. It felt odd passing one of my favorite cities (Montreal) without stopping, but we wanted the hardcore Québécois immersion that you get in the province’s capital city.
And we got it right away. After unloading at our Airbnb, I struggled to order kebabs in French from the carryout down the street though at least the kids were impressed. And then I stuttered my way through a basic conversation with the grocery store clerk. I also stutter when speaking Standard American English and Midwestern Negro, but I expected a bit more elegance after reaching Duolingo French level 28 in like three months.
The bulk of our first two days in Quebec City were spent in Old Town. Old Town in the summer feels like a street festival in Europe. We saw a military fortress, street performers, countless shops and cafes, guv’ment buildings, and a thick, possibly tasty rabbit that wanted to meet the kids. Plus we got our prayer on at Cathédrale Notre-Dame-de-Québec.
We got our nature fix at Montmorency Falls, and later, Île d’Orléans. The falls are actually taller (272 feet vs 167 feet) than Niagara’s though not as wide. You can walk up 487 stairs to a bridge over the falls (or take the cable car). Or you can stay near the bottom and get drenched.
The Island of Orleans was scenic but sleepy. We ate local chocolate and hung out by the St. Lawrence River. Cassius and Larke disrupted others’ serenity by playfully blowing in each other’s faces and then getting mad and fighting. That’s them looking over the ledge after getting yelled at.
We spent our third and final night in Quebec City neighborhood hopping through Saint Roch and Saint John Baptiste. Our plan was to end the trip with a traditional Quebecois meal, but seeing spiced meat pies on the menu didn’t do it for me. So we ate sushi and pizza and then went to the grocery store for ribeyes. The store also sold kangaroo, rabbit, horse, and goat corpse, but we kept it simple with steaks.
The following morning we packed up the van just as the cleaner arrived at the Airbnb. I explained in French that we loved the place, and she at least pretended to understand. I guess I’ll continue my daily Duolingo lessons until I get to level 50.
Seven hours later we crossed back into the U.S. The border agent had only a few questions, and we weren’t sent to a detention center in some far off country. Pro tip: If you’re black or brown and have a white partner, ask them to do “suspect” things like return items to stores and answer questions from authorities. It’ll go much smoother.
We spent one night at a dank Embassy Suites in Syracuse, New York and made it back to Ohio the following afternoon. As you can see below, the way I packed the van is a feat of geometric excellence. I wanted a picture so I can replicate it on our next road trip to the other side of Canada. Halifax, Nova Scotia here we come. Well, next summer.
-Dewan Gibson
*Hello! -Cassius