Day 37: Edmundston to Fredericton

276 kilometers; 2:40 hours

Conditions were perfect for a drive through the country: crisp weather, voluptuous cloud banks, interesting scenery, smooth highway, and low traffic. The country was thickly wooded but the forest was short and scrubby.

Through that combination of background research and dumb luck that is known as serendipity, we happened upon Grand Falls Gorge. At this point the Saint John River drops more than 75 feet over a series of very rough rock ledges. In its natural state, this waterfall must have been spectacular for its great length and high spray. Unfortunately the mighty river has been dammed just before the falls, and very little water was flowing, though some did enter from a small, un-dammed tributary. The advantage of the dryness is that the extensive rock formations had their own kind of fascination.

Grand Falls Gorge

Near the falls is a visitor center. There I noticed an exceptional example of quilting: the design used a very interesting composition to tell the story of the falls. It shows the falls in the spring when water is released from the dam and the falls become full and energetic.

Grand Falls Quilt

To add to the fun, a zip-line was in use; we watched folks zip across the almost-dry river on one set of lines, then zip back on another set of lines, and I made a lot of iPad video. I imagined doing a zip-line in the spring when water is allowed to splash on the rugged formations. You would get wet from the mist. The zip-lines are also open at night under special lighting. What an idea! Thrill-seekers.

Dan's tourism objective for today was to see the world's longest covered bridge which crosses the Saint John River in Hartland, somewhat off the main route.

The covered bridge in Hartland, New Brunswick

We spent a pleasant hour in Hartland, where there is a handy park with good views of the bridge. The bridge is 1282 feet long and it officially opened in 1901. It has a wooden, shed-like cover, and a wooden road bed, but it is supported by very large concrete piers. Though it is a one-lane bridge that usually carries little traffic, at present the main highway bridge is being repaired, and the traffic is being detoured this way.

Dan walked across the bridge to shoot the views on the other side. Then we shared a beer at one of the plainest bars in the world just for the right to use the washroom.

Dan used the pedestrian walkway to cross the bridge.

When it was time to leave, we had to confront a puzzling phenomenon. Though the bridge has only one lane, there is no signal indicating which way the traffic is flowing. We observed the traffic for awhile looking for the implicit rule of courtesy, but we couldn't see it, so we got behind a car entering the tunnel-like bridge and hoped the driver knew what he was doing.

A short drive featuring blue skies, fluffy clouds, scrubby fir trees and smooth road took us the rest of the way into Fredericton. Our Best Western Hotel is near a string of shopping malls. In one of them we found Down East Mario's, which gave us a pretty decent Italian style meal.

Day 36: Quebec City to Edmundston, N.B.

320 kilometers; 3:14 hours

After two weeks of exploring Canada's major cities, we headed into New Brunswick, which is hilly, wooded, and sparsely populated, compared to Quebec and Ontario.

When we left Quebec City, the sun was shrouded by a deep, featureless layer of clouds; the air was heavy and the light was gray. Much of the way the road was lined by thick green trees that blocked the scenery. The monotony was soporific.

The last hour we ran into the most monumental road building project we have ever seen. Earth moving and shaping on a grand scale that went on for miles and miles. It appears they are totally rebuilding the TransCanada highway, as the project extended between provinces.

Which reminds me, overall Canada seems very prosperous, judging by the amount of construction we've seen. In every city, parking lots are being turned into high-rise residences, old buildings are being preserved and re-purposed, streets are being widened and beautified. All signs point to a growing economy. Of course, the picture is exaggerated by the fact that builders want to take advantage of the mild summer weather.

The only interesting part of the trip was lunch. An intriguing billboard caused Dan to pull off the highway to eat at the Restaurant de la Montagna in St-Pascal. The waiter thought he could speak English, but he gave us a totally inaccurate view of what was being served and then botched our order. However, I ended up with delectable filet of sole; Dan got some terrific grilled shrimp. The veggies were fresh and tasty.

When we got settled in our Best Western Motel in Edmundston, I headed straight for the guest laundry, which is on the same floor as our room. It was hot and cramped, and the lights were on a sensor so I had to keep moving or I would end up in the dark suddenly.

The strange thing is that there is a foot massage studio right next door in an odd-shaped, left-over space between rooms that is hardly big enough for a broom closet. It was surreal: a reclining lawn chair, a stool, a dim light. A woman with bug eyes explained that it was called Reflexology, that it was an hour and a half treatment, that she had so many regular clients that she didn't have time for motel guests, and that she enjoyed doing it. A client arrived, female, and I could hear murmuring from her space while I worked on my laundry.

I spent the evening washing and ironing and munching on crackers. Dan went out for a steak dinner at the nearby Old Stove Steakhouse (Le Vieux Poele), having handled his laundry in Quebec City.

Day 35: The Falls at Montmorency and Sainte-Anne de Beaupré

The Falls

Less than thirty kilometers east of Quebec is a very powerful and dramatic waterfall called Chute de Montmorency. The Montmorency is a very long river that drains a vast wilderness area and pours a huge volume of water over a cliff and then flows into the Saint Lawrence River. It is one and a half times the height of Niagara Falls, but only about 150 feet wide. 

Montmorency Falls and River

The drive out there through a semi-rural area with a mix of small farms and light industry was very pleasant. All the signs along the road were in French here, so I had fun trying to translate them.

The parking lot is about a 45-minute walk from the base of the falls. The path crosses the Montmorency River —broad, shallow, rippling—then goes along the other shore, a barren, tree-less landscape with a featureless rock wall on one side. Featureless except for a wooden staircase—some people actually pay money to walk up a gazillion unshaded wooden stairs to the top of the falls. The day was very warm and humid, and the sun was hot on our backs as we walked. The light had a gray quality, hazy and dull.

We arrived at the closest view point where the mighty river falls into a deep hole.  The spraying mist made it hard to take photos and we got a little wet. The fall is impressive, but it doesn't create a romantic atmosphere. 

After we walked back to the visitor center, we took a cable car to the top of the cliff. A path follows the edge to a suspension bridge over the crest of the falls. Crossing over the falls and looking down on the rushing water was fascinating. On the other side we hiked to an outcropping where we had a different view. Various facilities and trails were on the other side, but we were hot and hungry.

Lunch was sort of a bust. Back on the other side of the river is an elegant old inn called Manoir Montmorency that has both a fine dining restaurant and a casual restaurant. Unfortunately, seating for the dining was on the porch, where the wind was hot and the light was glaring, whereas the casual section was somewhat air-conditioned, dark, and calming, so we chose the latter. 

Manoir Montmorency

The menu was "gourmet" bar food. Dan got a seafood plate with two kinds of smoked fish and a mound of little shrimp. It disappointed him. I had a salad with no greens, only croutons, cheese cubes, tomatoes and a few unidentified ingredients. 

The waiter was from La Paz, Mexico, and when he discovered that Dan speaks Spanish he became quite friendly and clowned around a little.

Waiter from La Paz

The Basilica

We took the cable car back to the visiter center and found our car.  We drove another 10 kilometers east to the village of Beaupré, where we toured another significant landmark, the Basilica of Sainte-Anne-de-Beaupré. This church has an extraordinary amount of high quality and unusual religious art.

The huge church is dedicated to Saint Anne (mother of the Virgin Mary), as patron saint of sailors and of Quebec. It started as a chapel 350 years ago, when Quebec was French, on land donated by a local property owner to the Catholic church. Because that chapel held a statue of Saint Anne that was said to have miraculous healing powers, it became a place of pilgrimage and was enlarged several times. 

The present-day basilica was built in 1922. It's architecture is basically Romanesque Revival, with important Gothic features.

The interior design is unique in many ways. As a Romanesque design, the ceiling is a rounded, barrel arch, instead of the more common pointed Gothic style, and the vault is continuous with the apse for the altar, creating one basic smooth shape, with many elaborations. From this internet grab of the floor plan, you can see the full ambulatory extending behind the altar, giving access to several small chapels, each in its own apse. Unfortunately, when we were there, access to this area was blocked because a concert had just finished and an army of roadies was dismantling the sound system around the altar.

Internet Grab of floor plan of Basilica

The great glory of the interior decoration is the mosaic covering the entire vault, which depicts in simplified images and statements (in French), scenes from the life of Saint Anne. These were quite high and required a lot of neck-craning, but they were readable.

Scenes from the life of Saint Anne line the barrel vault.

Here's the statue of Saint Anne that has inspired so much veneration. The radiating halo, billowy clouds, and the lovely facial expressions of Anne and the child Mary make this an inspiring artwork. I couldn't find a credit for the sculptor, but it dates from the early 1600s.

Miraculous Statue of Sainte Anne
holding the child Mary, virgin mother of Christ

Like the ceiling, the floor was decorated by charmingly simple mosaics.

Mosaics were also used to decorate the vestibule, that is the long porch that serves as an entrance. The use of a flattened iconic style seems primitive, but it is consistent with art produced in the Romanesque period, and it is delightful.

This church had much more art and architecture on the lower floor, in a small museum, and on the grounds, but heat, humidity, fatigue, bad food and good wine at lunch combined to diminish our appreciation of this unexpectedly beautiful and interesting place.

Notre-Dame-de-Saint-Roch

A more consistently Romanesque church was located only a few blocks from our hotel, called Notre-Dame-de-Saint-Roch. Notice that the façade lacks the tapering Gothic spires, but its arrangement of arches is much the same. The square in front was so small that I couldn't get back far enough to photograph the whole façade.

Notre-Dame-de-Saint-Roch

Like the Basilica of Sainte-Anne-de-Beaupré, Saint Roch has a barrel vault ending in a rounded apse. The decoration of this church is simple but effective, emphasizing its architecture.

The apse and the altar

Saint Roch is perhaps less known than some of the martyrs but his story is homey because he is the patron saint of dogs. While on a pilgrimage in the late 1300s, he came into Italy during an epidemic of plague. He devoted himself to the care of the sick and effected many miraculous cures. Nevertheless, when he contracted the plague himself, he was kicked out of town to die alone in the woods. He was saved by a spring that miraculously appeared nearby and by a hunting dog that brought him food and licked his wounds, thereby healing them.

Saint Roch was cared for by a hunting dog

In the evening Dan and I went our separate ways. He went back to his favorite cheap Vietnamese restaurant—he insists the food is delicious—where he can take in his own wine. 

I went out looking for a proper salad. After a little exploring I found a classy pizza joint where they didn't seem to mind a single diner, and in fact, gave me the premier seat next to the open street window, where there was good people-watching and an occasional breeze. My salad had asparagus wrapped in a slice of cured pork and broiled. The first bite was so good that my eyes watered.

 

Day 34: National Museum of Fine Arts of Quebec

The Musée national des beaux-arts du Québec has a number of extraordinary features that add up to a high quality art experience.

The architecture is so sophisticated that I am surprised that the architects—Charles Dorval and Louis Fortin—are not more prominent internationally. Like many museums in the United States, this museum started with an imposing neoclassical structure in 1933. Later the museum acquired the adjacent building, which had previously served as the Quebec City jail. Dorval and Fortin designed a new entrance pavilion that connects the two historical structures; it opened in 1991. 

The most amazing part about the entrance pavilion is that it is largely hidden—perhaps the smallest footprint I've ever observed. You don't really get the sense that the two old buildings on either side are connected. The modest entrance signals a small and intimate place, whereas, in fact, the sprawling museum has a lot of gallery space. Much of the new pavilion is underground, under existing rises in the landscape. Above ground is only a four-armed skylight and a glass tower, and you don't see that structure unless you get an aerial view.

Architects: Charles Dorval and Louis Fortin, 1991

Internet grab showing the skylight and the low hill over the entrance pavilion.

It came as a great surprise to me, during my circuit of the museum, to discover a row of narrow cells, preserved from the days when one of the buildings was used for a jail. How great to repurpose a jail, especially a handsome stone building, as an art museum.

One of a row of cells in repurposed city jail.

The theme of this museum is the history of the fine arts in Quebec. Since Quebec was originally settled by the French in the 1600s, the earliest art was brought by them from France for the adornment of their churches. They had quite a large and pleasant collection of this type of work.

The Altarpiece of the Church of L'Ange-Gardien

Pierre-Noêl Levasseur, 1690-1770

They didn't really have a lot of art that was actually made in Quebec for the first couple hundred years. There were a few stiff portraits, similar to our colonial portraits. They had quite a bit of art from the late 1800s, but it was hung salon-style; although some were quite beautiful, they were hard to identify from the numbered guide, and impossible to photograph.

From the early 20th century, the exhibit was regular gallery style and some artists were shown in sufficient number that we could learn their style. By that time, artists from Quebec were aware of all the trends and had joined the international conversation on various themes and techniques.

Maurice Cullen, 1866-1934
Montreal Harbour, 1915

Adrien Hébert, 1890-1967
Saint-Denis Street, 1927

Jean Palardy, 1905-1991
Potato Picking, 1936

Three large galleries were devoted to an artist from Quebec named Alfred Pellan, an abstractionist who was constantly innovating in a very playful manner. He died in 1988, quite famous here. When his wife died recently she bequeathed the contents of his studio to the museum, thus inspiring this retrospective. They had a gallery for the studio, emphasizing his working process, then a large gallery of early works and another one of late works. Some of these paintings were quite captivating; many were too far out for me to follow.

Alfred Pellan, 1906-1988
Flowers and Dominoes, c. 1940

Alfred Pellan, 1906-1988
Secret Conversation, c. 1945

Alfred Pellan, 1906-1988
Bestiary 25

Comprehensive coverage was also given to Jean-Paul Riopelle. We first got interested in him because of his long-term relationship with Joan Mitchell, a foremost American abstractionist of the mid-twentieth century. 

Jean-Paul Riopelle, 1923-2002

One gallery showed a number of his works in the style we recognize, in which he used a trowel to spread the paint in orderly chunks. A few of these had all the magic of a Jackson Pollack drip painting.

Jean-Paul Riopelle, 1923-2002
Spain, 1951

Another gallery showed work in later, more reckless styles that I found hard to relate to. In particular he did a very long mural in which the images were silhouettes of objects made by spray painting the real objects lying on the canvas. The succession of items had to do with his memories of Joan Mitchell, but I couldn't figure it out.

Just to show how much space they have, I'll mention there was also an exhibit of glass art from Quebec and a large show by a ceramicist; neither of these shows appealed to us.

Lunch was a gourmet treat, real French food in the museum's restaurant. I had grilled salmon; Dan had roast duck. Quite memorable.

The Café

After the museum, Dan got the taxi driver to take us for a drive through Battlefield Park, a vast plain where a decisive battle took place between the French and the English in 1751. An area larger than the size of the city was reserved for a park—rolling hills of green lawn, large old trees, view points. 

Dan's plan for the warm and humid evening was to wash clothes at the laundromat across the street. I took one look in that hot little hole full of churning hot machines and said, "I'd rather wear dirty clothes." Dan persisted in washing a bunch of his own stuff, but I was in bed by 6:30. He came and went with his washing. Then he had dinner at the Indian restaurant across the street from the laundromat. I just kept sleeping. 

Day 33: Old Quebec

The Canadian city that shows the most French influence is Quebec. It was founded by a Frenchman, Samuel de Champlain in 1608—making it one of the oldest cities in North America—and developed by French settlers for over 150 years before it was ceded to the British at the end of the French and Indian Wars. Quebec's Old Town (Vieux-Québec) is on a high bluff overlooking the St. Lawrence River. This area is notable for its French architecture and historic sites.

The city's most famous landmark is the Château Frontenac, a château-style hotel that dominates the skyline. It was one of a series built for the Canadian Pacific Railway and opened in the late 19th century. It is now operated by Fairmont.

Château Frontenac

Our taxi dropped us off in front of the hotel. The weather was warm and muggy. We didn't have a plan. The town was not visible from there. We walked off the hotel property to a street. A line of colorful tour buses was disgorging passengers, obscuring our view.

When we got around them we found ourselves in a small, shady plaza with a bronze statue in the center call the Place des Armes. On two sides were old buildings. We headed up the bluff toward the river.

Along the bank in front of the hotel there is a long plank esplanade with a view of the river and the city beyond, though it is obscured by overgrown shrubbery in many places.

Cruise ship in St. Lawrence River

Dan had warned me that it might be chilly along the river, so being phobic about cold, I was carrying a knit hat, gloves, and a couple of scarves, in addition to wearing a jacket. However, there was very little shade up on the esplanade and the direct sunlight was burning hot. The humidity was so high that I was lugging my body like a sack of potatoes.

Dan's next idea was to walk out to the end of the esplanade and then up three flights of stairs to the top of the bluff to see the Citadel, a fortress built by the British between 1820 and 1830. When I looked ahead and saw no prospect of shade, plus a great height to be mounted, just to see a fortress, my spirit rebelled. Every molecule said, "Get out of the sun." Instead of freaking out, I managed to talk with Dan, and we made a plan to meet in Place des Armes at 1 p.m. and get some lunch.

Then I was on my own. First I sought shade in the Place. Other hot, tired people sitting on benches seemed to be waiting for people. I didn't know what I was supposed to be appreciating, but I could sure use a latte and a restroom. By prowling winding streets filled with upscale restaurants and souvenirs I determined the only public restroom was in Tourist Information. I finally got a latte at an ice cream store.

It was so humid indoors that I couldn't bring myself to look at the museum of the port. I couldn't get interested in souvenir shopping, though quality arts and crafts were on display. I sure didn't need anything else to carry.

Between the old City Hall and the Church of Notre-Dame de Quebec I found a plaza too small to have a name or a statue. Surrounded by shade trees it would have made an inviting place to take a break, except that it had been adapted as a public performance space, and was fitted with low bleachers on all sides. In the paved center a street entertainer was playing pop music and running around frantically trying to generate interest in his show. Eventually he did some bike-riding tricks and some juggling.

When I got bored, I toured the Church of Notre-Dame. Preparations for noon mass were being made, so all the lights were on. This is a medium-size and fairly modest church but it is distinguished by a canopy-like framework over the altar, and all its decoration is uniformly gilded causing the interior to glow like the sun.

Altar of Notre-Dame Church

Dan and I met at 1 p.m. as planned. He reported that the walk had been hot and tiring. He didn't say much about the fort. I think it is probably worth visiting—it is still active, but it has some very old structures—but there is a regular tourist entrance from the street that doesn't required a lot of strenuous climbing.

We had lunch in a place he had spotted called Petite Italie. We both had the salmon salad. We sat near an open window and watched the tourists. Lots of seniors were struggling up and down the hot streets trying to find souvenirs, lunch, and some kind of experience to justify this stop on their itinerary.

After lunch, Dan's plan was to take the funicular down the bluff to the old port and catch the ferry across the river. I was so hot and over-burdened that this was too much for me. We separated without a plan to meet again. I took a taxi back to the hotel, pared my kit down to a bare-minimum, rested briefly, and took a taxi back to the Old City. 

It was late afternoon by then; the light and the temperature were a little milder, but a fresh breeze was still lacking. The place was even more packed. I wandered around, trying again to get into the mood, keeping my eyes open for Dan. Near the esplanade was another plaza centered around a large statue of some historical figure that was also used by street entertainers, though there were neither trees nor benches. These acts were even more elaborate and noisy, and they were surrounded by tourists standing three deep.

A little after 5 p.m. I went up on the esplanade and there was Dan, putting his camera gear in his backpack. He had taken the ferry across the river and back, then investigated the lower part of the Old City. Then he took the funicular back up the bluff. It seemed very romantic to find him as if by e.s.p.

We walked to a pub that had a two-for one happy hour on pints of Grolsch. Dan told me all about his adventures while we quaffed our ale. Then we got a taxi back to the hotel.

Selfie on a hot night

In the evening, Dan once again bought wine and took it to a Vietnamese restaurant and I had a salad at the hotel restaurant. Afterward I explored the area around our hotel a bit. Though our block is quiet, funky, and dominated by Vietnamese, it is right on the edge of a more fashionable neighborhood. One side of our hotel faces the back of a public library. The next street over is a very long commercial street with a legitimate theater and brand-name stores and restaurants. Two blocks the other direction I found a very handsome gray stone Romanesque style church with a plaza in front. 

Day 32: Montreal to Quebec City

250 kilometers; 2:32 hours

Our drive from Montreal to Quebec City was characterized by a lot of traffic, a lot of roadwork (travaux), and a lot of healthy corn fields—a familiar story. We carefully choreographed our exit from the hotel in Montreal and our entrance to the Best Western Centre-Ville in Quebec so that we retained all of our possessions. We were shocked upon arriving mid-afternoon to encounter hot wind, quite enervating.

After settling in and resting a bit we explored our local neighborhood. Our hotel, though quite a stylish place with its own restaurant and coffee bar, is located in a very low-key Vietnamese neighborhood with two Vietnamese restaurants, a couple of convenience stores, and rows of rather basic two-story apartment buildings. Characters on the street are odd-looking but non-threatening. The night was warm and pleasant.

Dan bought a half-bottle of wine and took it to the cheaper Vietnamese restaurant.  I had a salad and perfect vegetable soup at the restaurant in the hotel. We met for a beer at a dark pub, where the drunks were hanging about in a back yard that I dared not investigate.

Day 31: Ile-Sainte-Helene

I must confess that I freaked out and abandoned Dan on Ile-Sainte-Helene.

I had proposed going there because the island was the site of Expo '67, a World Fair that I attended as a young adult and enjoyed very much. My research had shown that all the pavilions were long gone, and the area had been re-developed as a huge park with many attractions, except for a remnant of the spectacular American Pavilion. It was designed by maverick architect Richard Buckminster Fuller, using a form he invented - the geodesic dome. As I recall, visitors rode in a train of small cars, on a spiraling track inside the gigantic dome, viewing and listening to large displays about the culture of the United States. Pavilions were not intended to be permanent and the large framework was covered with an acrylic outer wrapper that was vulnerable to fire. In 1976 during repair work, the acrylic wrapper caught fire and completely burned away in half an hour. After the fire, the steel lattice structure still had a magnetic attraction for visitors, so it had been repurposed as a spectacular framework for a bio-diversity museum.

Knowing what a big place the island was, my plan was to take the car, but when Dan found out there was a Metro stop on the island, there was no persuading him to give up his parking place. This meant that just getting out there, which required a couple of transfers, was stressful and tiring.

The park is a pretty place but large. The walk to the dome was about twenty minutes. It was a sunny, breeze-less day and very hot. We photographed the framework and some of the wild plants around it, but we are not especially interested in biodiversity, however important it may be, so we skipped the museum.

Framework of geodesic dome
Architect: Buckminster Fuller

After I took my photos, I was ready to go. I was already tired. Dan had a difficult program to walk across the island to photograph a sculpture by Alexander Calder, and he wanted to see the view of the city from there. That plan had no appeal for me.

I was considering what to do when we encountered a seemingly endless hoard of people dressed in jogging clothes and powdered from head to toe in pigment of various colors. They were returning from a so-called Color Run. The first few groups of people were novel, but after seeing hundreds if not thousands of filthy people, I began to feel like I was in a pit of snakes or a hill of ants. When Dan stopped to use the restroom, I said something incoherent and ran for the subway.

At the station and on the train I encountered many more filthy people. I couldn't keep far enough away. I shuddered with revulsion.

I managed the Metro okay by myself, and managed to set aside my guilt about leaving Dan to worry about me; I was pretty sure that my behavior had been clear enough and he would go on to pursue his program.

When I emerged from the Metro into the breezy, familiar avenues of the busy inner city, I started to relax. I know the layout in this area, and soon ran into a bookstore with a Starbucks. A caramel frappuccino did wonders for my spirits. I went back to the hotel, took a bath, put all my clothes in the laundry bag, and had a long nap.

Dan came in a little after 5 p.m. with an incredible tale of exploration. It was pretty clear he would never find me, and he felt fairly sure I could get back on the Metro, so he didn't waste much energy on anger or anxiety. Despite the heat and glare, he had marched down a broad path to the St. Lawrence River, where he found a monumental stabile by Alexander Calder that had been designed to go with the USA pavilion at Expo '67. He photographed this and the view of Montreal with the river in the foreground.

Then he took the Metro back to Place des Arts, which had also been part of the plan. This plaza is surrounded by performance halls and art galleries and restaurants and such. He had a nice meal and listened to some free musical performances in the place. He was going to walk back here, but some bad directions sent him into Chinatown, which, he reported, was not much by San Francisco standards, but swarming with tourists. Everywhere you go, Montreal is swarming with tourists and recreating residents on a warm week-end in August; moreover this is Gay Pride week-end. Somehow or another Dan made it back to the Museum of Fine Arts in time to look at the Inuit art and check out the bookstore (no purchase).

In the evening we returned to a French restaurant that we had spotted previously called Le Pois Penché. It turned out to be far more upscale then we had anticipated. Dan launched into a tirade of complaints about the price of everything, so we ended up leaving. I wasn't committed to a big deal at the moment. We grabbed a light meal at our hotel restaurant. It was calm, that was the main thing. Later we walked around a different block and finally found a bunch of smaller, less pretentious restaurants that looked appealing, but it's time to move on now.