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Cora Breakfast and Lunch
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Bedford


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November 17, 2024

What a crazy idea to take a cruise!

The calm sea was at odds with the thousand giant fish swirling in my head. What a crazy idea a cruise was! Especially right now, with the company’s office team hard at work refreshing our brand image, concocting new dishes and devising surprises to delight you. So why did I leave? Likely because I needed to let go and give all the experts around me room to do their magic.

Despite the small balcony, the incredible view, the gentle roll of the waves, the king-size bed, six voluminous pillows just for me, and a TV almost as big as a movie screen, I missed my world. The morning coffee with my old friends, my iPad with blank pages to fill and the projects that would unfailingly stop to knock on my mind’s front door.

Everyone around me had been encouraging me to set sail and take a break. Go and discover Alaska, they said, with its immense glaciers and magnificent totem poles, and enjoy the boat’s gigantic floating buffets, thousand and one enchanting pastries and armada of restaurants, where I could linger as if I were Her Majesty the Queen. It was all wonderful, and yet I found it hard to keep up with the endless delights at my fingertips.

All my life, I've been hungry to live and thirsty to share my projects with my children, those close to me, my colleagues and all those who love my big yellow Sun. I walked the length and breadth of the great ship, but I was never tempted by the casino or evening shows. That kind of entertainment has never really interested me. On this massive moving palace, I tried out this thing called “vacation,” and I have to admit, I missed work, writing and my list of projects terribly. My drive to improve my lot in life is still very much alive. Perhaps being in business is like knitting: if you love it, you never stop. A stitch forward, a stitch back. Making progress, whatever the project at hand, keeps my old bones warm.

Most of the passengers were couples, accustomed to cruising and living the high life on an all-included package. As for me, I turned in circles. Up and down I went in the elevator, stopping at the wrong level. I confused north and south. A young uniformed Pakistani explained the difference between “starboard” and “port.” Where were the musicians, the singers, the magicians? Where was I exactly, so many miles away from my Sun?

The boat was huge, perhaps as big as Quebec City and its suburbs. On this floating island, I lost my bearings. Even when the moon came out accompanied by a thousand stars, the ship hummed like a fantastical city of dreams, games and feasting.

The idyllic trip seemed popular with the white-haired crowd. There were certainly plenty of them. The biggest surprise, however, was the large number of Asian families, often with a patient grandmother in tow to look after the little ones. I too could have done with a nanny to tell me a bedtime story. Had I eaten too many sweets?

After two consecutive days at sea, a group of us disembarked and walked more than three kilometres to the small village of Sitka. There we admired several totem poles and congratulated the local carvers as they worked. The tiny fishing village reminded me of the poorest village in my native Gaspésie: a wooden church, an unkempt, half-forgotten cemetery and old, dilapidated fishing boats.

Of course, every time the boat stopped, tourists flocked to the trays of trinkets. Socks, caps and sweaters saying “ALASKA,” and miniature polar bears and whales of every description. I perused the wares, examined a beautiful shawl adorned with Inuit designs, putting it back to please a young American girl who had her eye on it. All the little villages we visited turned out to be similar; all served the same purpose: to attract tourists and earn a few dollars.

In the evening, I’d meet up with my group for dinner, always at the same restaurant, whose menu changed daily. You already know my fondness for seafood, and I certainly made the most of the daily feast. I savoured onion soup or clam chowder and delicious fish plates almost every night. I was dazzled by the extraordinary service: the impeccably set tables, the baskets of tasty rolls, the perfectly rounded butter balls and the magnificent glassware.

A member of my Quebec group informed me that the ship housed over 2,000 passengers, with some 1,000 employees at our beck and call. Everything, absolutely everything, was perfect. A seamlessly orchestrated affair, as if a magic wand were guiding the ship. On the fifth or sixth day at sea, we passed by giant glaciers. We were in awe of these icy mountains, captured in photos by everyone who got close to them.

Wrapped up to fend off the cold, I took in the landscape from the boat’s highest outdoor deck. In front of me, majestic beauties, photographed countless times. The wind was blowing and my nose was running. A pod of whales appeared, and the ship’s residents cheered when the creatures poked their heads out of the water.

Memories of this grandiose show are stored in my heart. Perhaps it was the first time I had been deeply moved by nature. The liner bade farewell to the blue-mauve glaciers, turned around and resumed its northerly course. Passengers who had stayed outside were treated to delicious hot chocolate or chicken ramen soup.

I was part of a group of 32 Quebecers, all married except for Aline and me, who had remained single all our lives. I was of course very reluctant to venture off on my own. If I had had a lover at my side, the glaciers would have no doubt melted faster. In any case, let me take Caesar’s famous phrase from 47 BC – “Veni, vidi, vici” – and adapt it to my own story.

I came, I saw, I returned.

Cora
❤️

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