My lovely and adventurous boyfriend chose to up the romance quotient and take us on a post Valentines sojourn to Quebec City. To stay in the Ice Hotel. Before I elaborate further, let me tell you that I am a typical woman in the way that I need an extra pair of socks when the average man is happy with bare feet. I shiver in June. And I was once in Egypt, during the summer, wearing a cardigan.
Perhaps I am not the hardiest chick, but I am certainly adventurous. How else could I write for Almost Fearless Backpackers? So I grabbed those extra socks and the magnificent invention of Toe Warmers (who knows what it is made of? Who cares?) and departed for Quebec City. A beautiful cobblestone town under the guise of a city, we ate duck fat poutine in an attempt to line our arteries in advance. The hotel, we were told, was obvious. “You can’t miss it.” So we missed it
Perhaps I am not the hardiest chick, but I am certainly adventurous. How else could I write for Almost Fearless Backpackers? So I grabbed those extra socks and the magnificent invention of Toe Warmers (who knows what it is made of? Who cares?) and departed for Quebec City. A beautiful cobblestone town under the guise of a city, we ate duck fat poutine in an attempt to line our arteries in advance. The hotel, we were told, was obvious. “You can’t miss it.” So we missed it