West Side Market Meets Canadian Side of the St. Lawrence

Do you know what Cleveland has that Montréal and Québec City don't have?

The West Side Market.

A young man from out of town entered the market a couple of weeks ago and exclaimed, "I feel like I just entered another country." He was struck by the foreign languages and accented English, the tawny muscled arms of Mediterranean men and the proud, outspread arms and tilted heads of women indicating their baked goods.

My children grew up in a Cleveland suburb and have always been fascinated by the Market. Going to the Market is an adventure. They look askance at whole raw fish and skinned pigs, but savor the apple fritters. Fresh lemon-pepper fettucini, key lime cheesecake, traditional hummus, and boxes of strawberries force us to make several trips to the car. They know it as the place their Hungarian grandparents bought the Hungarian sausage and poppy seed roll served at Christmas dinner. They love the high ornamented ceilings, the booths representing many family names and nationalities, the babble of many voices, and the crowding in the produce aisles.

I think they like it because it’s so different from going to the grocery in our suburban landscape.

So this summer when we went to Ontario and Québec Provinces in the other country to our north, we wanted to check out the Old World markets in the British and French holdouts of the New World. The markets would give us a sense of the people and place.

We drove through Ohio along Lake Erie past the vineyards on either side of the highway. The landscape changed as we went from the Finger Lakes region of New York and headed north on 81 past Syracuse. Black-eyed Susans grow naturally, wildly, like our daisies, and the low lying meadows were loaded with Queen Anne’s Lace.

The steep-graded bridge over the St. Lawrence from the U.S. crosses over islands, east of Lake Ontario into the Thousand Islands region. We followed the picturesque Thousand Islands Parkway which afforded views of the River and islands behind residential property, old and new. Gananoque is touted as the gateway to the Thousand Islands, so we took a room there and walked from our hotel into the historic downtown. The town was like any other town except the people have a passion for gardens and the plants seemed more mature than those at home. We wondered if the summer is longer there, warm air brought in by ocean currents.

The town has a historic inn, aptly named the Gananoque Inn, a short boardwalk along the River, a playhouse, a rejuvenated waterfront with shops, and tour boats. It was a quiet town at the end of July. The only attraction seemed to be the tours of the Thousand Islands.

We highly recommend taking a tour. We opted for a 3-hour tour on a commercial triple-decked ferry boat and it was both relaxing and informative. The sunny day highlighted the charm of people living on islands ranging in size from just large enough for a tree to large enough for a village. Some people own two islands and connect them with bridges. Many built their homes on the highest point and walk down to their boat garages on the water to go to the nearest town for supplies. We were told the properties are occupied year round and the islands actually number over a thousand.

It was relaxing to be on the water and interesting to hear the tales the guide was telling us. Outside, on the decks, we had the wind in our hair and it was delightful. Boldt Castle, the mansion built on an island by a financier for his wife and left unfinished when she died, is a true castle with walls and gardens and turrets and outbuildings. A longer tour would have put us there.

We looked for roadside markets, not expecting a “market” and some dotted our route from Gananoque up the River, but they were not as numerous as what we see along the roads in Lorain and Erie counties. Our next stop was Brockville, Ontario, the town started by Loyalists fleeing to Canada during the American Revolution. Still, people speak with a British accent. The town feels British, even though French became more common as we approached the border with Québec. The waterfront and marina and the downtown provided for a good walk in the evening after a pub dinner washed down with Canadian beer.

On our third day, we followed the Saint Lawrence River to the city of Montréal, an island in the St. Lawrence Seaway. We drove up to Mount Royal and walked a path uphill to a 1923 chateau from which we could see the entire city of Montréal with its rivers and bridges, churches and rooftops, winding streets and tall buildings. Standing on the circular patio behind the chateau we looked forward to walking the city, to discovering the way the people live in the cosmopolitan city few Clevelanders have visited.

We stayed in Old Montréal, where the Basilique Notre-Dame de Montréal, built in 1824, was right around the corner. The present Basilique was modeled after the Sainte-Chapelle in Paris, but the original basilica was built in 1672 in the middle of la rue Notre Dame until it became too small. Across the street was the Place d’Armes with its fountain and commemoration of those who founded the city.

A walk down Rue Saint-Paul was a trip into the 17th century and an odd mix of Oriental, Western, Indian, Native American, Italian, French, Middle Eastern, and Mexican establishments. Along the Place de Jacques-Cartier, outside patios and displayed memos presented many dining options and street entertainers provided amusement. After dinner in an outdoor courtyard where upturned umbrellas kept us dry in a downpour, we visited Pointe-a-Calliere which marks the place where Montréal was founded in 1642 by Paul de Chomeday de Maisonneuve. We strolled along the waterfront at the Old Port, then headed into the streets of Vieux Montréal, winding down St. Paul through 17th century streets, on Rue de la Commune.

The cosmopolitan feel of the city lends itself to having a really good market. On day two in Montréal, daughter Melissa was determined to go to the “market” hinted at in brochures, and on inquiry, we were shown where it was on the map. Our feet still tired from our first day of walking, we went into the main commercial downtown area, discovering parks and underground malls and streets much like those in any other large city, filled with people and cars and neon signs and big-name designers. We found the “market” and discovered it isn’t much of a market, no fresh food vendors at all—we think it used to be something but had gone out of use as a true market and now has a few food establishments and kiosks selling clothes and jewelry. What a disappointment that was after walking many city blocks on tired feet!

Two days was plenty of time to get a feel for Montréal, even though we could have stayed longer. We headed up river towards Québec City as our road signs changed from English/French to French/English and then to just French. Our lack of knowledge of French was only slightly bothersome; we were able to figure things out. If we were in real trouble, we had Allison the French interpreter and Claire the French student in the back seat. Much to our delight, while looking for our hotel, we passed a lively market on the water and made note of it.

Québec is a city built on a hill that the English approached from the water and the only walled city north of Mexico. We explored the huge castle perched above the town, the Chateau Frontenac, a hotel built relatively recently and on the site of the governor’s mansion that was destroyed by a fire, a formidable place, very elegant and Old World inside. Winding cobble stone streets, 17th century shops lining both sides of the street, French and Canadian restaurants selling only French or Canadian cuisine. The shops ranged from designer clothes to handmade jewelry to furs to Native American, all with a north country feel in a place north enough to have moose and wolves and bald eagles. Street performers entertained crowds in the plazas.

While Montréal had a big-city feel with its taller, closer buildings, Québec felt more open and village-like. Québec felt like Asisi or St. Paul du Vence. I think harmonious and quaint and romantic when I think about Québec City, while Montréal is full of energy and lust.

After a breakfast of pastries and cappuccino at a boulagerie, we headed to Battlefield Park and the Citadel, a military installation still used to protect Québec and guarded by fully-uniformed soldiers. We walked the ramparts and learned about battles that failed through faulty planning. I was surprised how thick the walls were and thought maybe they contained secret rooms, but our architect daughter said they were built thick for engineering reasons.

We checked out sidewalk art in booths in alleyways. We explored the medieval Quartier Petit-Champlain and felt like we were in a European village even though an ocean did not separate us from Cleveland. We walked down steps into lower town and browsed the art and antique stores along Saint Paul and Saint Andre and walked over to Place Royale. Our AAA tour book, maps provided by the hotel, and plaques at monuments explained historic events.

On our second day we had to find the market down by the water. A map introduced it to us as Place du Marche du-Vieux-Port, and it was a good walk downhill through the walled town and into lower town to the port. The market turned out to be a local market of vendors who came across the River from the close farmlands. If one looks across the River from Québec City, the farms can be seen on the hills on the other side—that's how close the food at the market is. The market building was not Old World but glassed and modern with high unadorned ceilings and inside stalls. The farmers sold organic fruits and vegetables, hemp seed, handmade soaps and rugs, and wine. We could buy sausage sandwiches, pastries, pies, or ice cream to eat as we shopped. It was a nice market with a local feel, the feel of Québec on its own without the influence of anything but the French. It was provincial, not cosmopolitan.

It was nothing like the West Side Market, but it was lovely.

All around us in Vieux Montréal and Vieux Québec, we were in the Old World of cobble-stone streets, retail and restaurants hiding within courtyards, floor-to-ceiling windows open to the sidewalks, streets wide enough for horses, and outside dining. The buildings dating to the 17th century and the French language surrounding us like a song from across the ocean gave us the daydream of being in New France three hundred years ago. We ate baguette sandwiches, crepes, quiche, and fondue at lunch and dinner and breakfasted on croissants—the restaurants and patisseries were amazing.

I like going to the West Side Market, but sometimes we have to go on a road trip. Canada's a foreign land accessible to us in a day's drive, although few Clevelanders tell me they've been there. Go to Eastern Canada when you get a chance. But don’t go with any expectations. It’s not any place in Europe. It's uniquely Canadian.

And remember, there’s only one West Side Market. It’s in Cleveland.

From Cool Cleveland contributor Claudia J. Taller ctallerATssd.com

'Ever wanted to be a travel writer? Think you've got what it takes? Then we want to hear from you. We are actively seeking sharp, colorful and insightful travelogues from your own excursions... with a Northeast Ohio twist or Cleveland connection, that is. Business travel, vacation, or subversive alternative travel is all welcome. We want to hear from you. Send your Cool Cleveland'' Travelogue pitch--a 1-2 paragraph treatment of your travel experience and why it's cool for Clevelanders to read--and we might just print your essay. Send your treatments to peterATcoolcleveland.com (replace AT with "@" of course.

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