Most of the Italian riviera shuts down over winter. Ferry services seize, attractions and restaurants shutter, and most of the stores only open for a few hours each day.
There’s an unsettling and out-of-place feel about Québec City. The architecture is decidedly European, as is the local language, the food, and the vibe. A person dropped unconscious into Québec would struggle finding any evidence to suggest he’s anywhere but a seaside village in France.
Wiktionary’s definition of “concrete jungle” reads like a checklist of adjectives one would use to describe New York City. The cityscape harsh, unattractive, conspicuously devoid of greenery, and denser than Jim Hoft. Central Park, comparatively speaking, is a paradise.
I was only eight years old when the September 11 attacks happened. I was in a hotel room in Darwin, watching the live news coverage, with little understanding of the historical significance of what was happening.