How about if we call a spade a spade?

August 18, 2019

Real time     Blood pressure probably 500 over 100 (I’m kidding)

It is Sunday afternoon and I am back at my Airbnb.  Don’t worry, everything’s fine, but I need to get something off my chest so I can hopefully sleep tonight….

This morning I decided to take my car and drive to a few places which were more than walking distance away.  I have walked exclusively the last two days and this is my last full day here.  So much to see!

I drove north of Québec City to Jacques-Cartier National Park, about a half hour outside of town.  My pre-trip research indicated there were some gorgeous fjords there.

My first sign of trouble was their sign, which I had plenty of time to study while waiting in a long line of traffic to get in to the Park.  Well, it was Sunday morning and, though cloudy at the moment, was showing signs of improvement.

Here is the sign I saw:


It was different than every other Parks Canada sign I have seen while in the country:


I thought “OK, Québec thinks it’s better than everybody else and wants to be rebellious”.   Fine.

When I finally get up to the entry gate I tell the young lady that I have a Discovery Pass, which gives me free admission to all national parks and historic sites in the country for one year.  She says “Oh no, this is a Provincial Park”.


“You mean Parc Nationale is a Provincial Park, not a National Park?” I ask.

“That’s right”, she says, “it’s kind of a long story but Québec’s special status…”

OK, let me stop you right there.  I said (calmly and politely, this isn’t her fault after all) “Oh yeah, Québec thinks it’s special all right” and indicated I would turn my car around and leave, which I did.

And after reviewing my photos the entrance sign I saw was, in fact, a Parks Québec sign, not Parks Canada.

I had also been puzzled by these highway signs as I approached Québec City on Thursday:


Hey….. Québec……  Prêter une attention particulière….. (pay close attention)

I’m only going to say this once:

You are part of frickin’ CANADA and your national capital is frickin’ OTTAWA and it’s in frickin’ ONTARIO PROVINCE, and close enough to you to rub your snooty little nose in it.

Compris?   (Got it?)

There, I feel much better.


Hey JohnBoy, dites-nous ce que vous vraiment penser…  (Tell us what you really think….)

I’m tempted to stop using the accent when writing their name just to piss ’em off.





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