The front of this church was all that was left, no idea why. The facade backed right up to a cliff, so we could only surmise that a mudslide or something had washed the back away. 
The wall that surrounds Old Quebec City.
Looking down one of the city's many old, narrow streets. This is truly one of the oldest cities in North America.
The Chateau de Frontenac, THE plush hotel of Quebec City. I have been told that it is the most photographed hotel in the world.
Our gig that Thursday night was a headlining spot at a venue during the International Folk Festival. It was truly one of the best gigs Jeremiah and I have ever had the pleasure to play, a fantastic, attentive crowd, and great folks running the show. We played at a venue called Le Studio P, which seemed specially set up for the festival.
Benoit, the head of the festival, was kind enough to let us crash at his place in a centuries' old building in central Quebec City. I awoke early in the morning to one hell of a thunderstorm, a beautiful way to wake up in my humble opinion. After awakening I moved my car to avoid a parking ticket and wandered to a corner epicerie (grocery store) to buy some jus d'orange (orange juice). It is nearly impossible to not feel like you are in Europe in this wonderfully unique town, a welcome capstone to our Canadian experience.
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