Going back the OTHER way.

And we're off!

Deanna and I packed, cleaned, said our final fairwells and we were gone. We left around 3:00pm and headed for Canada...originally, for Quebec City.

I've only been to Canada once, via plane, and I had my passport. We were getting stories from everyone. Seth said we HAD to have passports. Marta said careful of truckers and moose in one part. Everyone was saying they could look through all of our stuff at the border, and we have a lot of crap in the trunk; the trunk is covered by a bike rack with two bikes; stuff in the back seat...everywhere. We way overpacked. People telling us not to say we're actors, but teachers. We're told to gas up everytime we see a gas station 'cause gas is scarce...and expensive. Master plans.

I went to a website that said you have to have picture ID and may be asked to provide a birth certificate. So still a chance, and perhaps the rest would be true.

We're prepared for the worst. The border is only a couple hours away, so we don't lose that much time if we have to turn around and drive through the states.

Finally, we get to the border. We fuel up on the States-side to get our last cheap gas. Side note, we realized gas would be more expensive in Canada, but it evened out with the price of tolls...for anyone who might be reading this and attempting the trip.

The actual border is right around the corner from the gas station, but you don't see it until you drive a few feet.

Boom...we're there. The Guard(? some guy with an accent) comes out and talks to us through the passenger side window. We see a car up ahead and they are getting everything searched. He asks where we're going, "Chicago". How long are we going to be in Canada, "out on Tuesday". He lets us go.

HE LETS US GO? He didn't even ask for ID! I joked with Deanna that I should have screamed "I'm a teacher!" right as he asked where we were headed. So we were officially welcome in Canada. The first sign we saw was the following:

Translated it says, "These Reindeer are the BEST! They dance and accelerate and LIVE because they are chivalrous." (as translated by me)

This is when I realized just HOW French Quebec was. I think it hit me when I saw a garage sale sign in French.

We drove toward Quebec City just barely before Deanna, who had the Atlas, chose a new route. We headed for Montreal. The drive was GORGEOUS. Long roads on rolling hills. Go through Quebec sometime.

We stopped off at a Cemetary to get a couple shots.

Along the way we never really stopped until we got into a town called Granby. For no other reason than it was a good time to stop, find a hotel, and eat. This was not one of those towns that had hotels readily by the freeway. We drove a long while through the town. We passed a store that had a name I'll never forget:

I told Deanna she was the Couch-tard and we kept looking for a place. We finally found a hotel right when I was ready to just turn around and go to one of the expensive looking places we passed. It was like a slightly more nice hotel on a slightly more nice 82nd ave in Portland. We walked up to the counter and Deanna braved the first "par lez vouz Englais". Everyone we talked to seems to know a little. We got our room, got some food and ate outside watching a beautiful sunset.