Québec City. A decidedly European labrynth of alleyways and rues with almost as many secret nooks and crannies as touristy gift shops lining the narrow twisting cobblestone roads. The Old City neatly confined within medieval walls and ramparts, perched above the St. Lawrence River, and the newer part of town bisected by sheer rock bluffs scaled by endless iron staircases. Street performers playing with fire and knives, the hustle and bustle ceaseless and invigorating and overwhelming and never ending — until, ten blocks later, when you find yourself unharmed in a sleepy neighborhood with small rear decks hanging off the backs of ancient apartment buildings and tidy corner stores where the attendant tells you not to buy wine from him because the tax is too much and everyone knows you should get it from the liquor store around the corner.
A lovely city.