Best Day Trip From Quebec City: An Idyllic Getaway to Île d’Orléans

If you’re planning a trip to Quebec, you need to add Île d’Orléans to your itinerary. This charming island is the perfect idyllic getaway — a much need break from the hustle and bustle of the city.

Île d’Orléans is located in the Saint Lawrence River and less than a 30 minute drive from Old Quebec. From vineyards and microbreweries to boutiques that sell local jams, experience countryside living on this beautiful picturesque island!

How to explore

If you’re on a tight schedule, a day trip is plenty of time to explore all the island has to offer. But if you have the time, I’d recommend staying overnight at one of the many charming bed and breakfasts.

The island is composed of 6 villages, each village has its own distinct characteristics and attractions:

• Saint-Pierre

• Saint-Famille

• Saint-François

• Saint-Jean

• Saint-Laurent

• Saint-Pétronille

The best way to explore is to drive around the island and stop at the activities and attractions that interest you. Saint-Jean village has the prettiest houses, with vibrantly painted roofs and decorated patios. Saint-Famille is mostly composed of farmland and we stumbled across a random patch of wildflowers on our drive where I had to stop to take photos. The island is bigger than you would expect and it takes over 1 hour to drive around its entirety but it’s a beautiful drive.

Where to stay

We stayed at the Bed and Breakfast Panorama in Saint-Laurent and it was an absolutely lovely stay. The B&B was so charming and I loved all the Moroccan decor! Our room had a beautiful view of farmland and the St. Lawrence River in the distance, I can’t tell you how refreshing it feels to wake up to birds chirping and roosters crowing.

The B&B also has outdoor seating and patios which is the perfect place to sip your morning coffee. Oh, and did I mention the delicious breakfasts that the hosts provides? We had a toasted bagel with a poached egg topped with mozzarella cheese the first morning and French toast with banana and chocolate chips the next morning. There’s honestly no better way to start the morning!

Some other B&Bs in the area that had high ratings online:

• Auberge Les Ancêtres

• Auberge La Goéliche

What to eat

The only actual restaurant we ate at was Auberge La Goéliche which we picked solely for its riverside view. We got two mains (the ocean trout tartare and the fried chicken) and a beer. The food was just okay and pretty pricey — it came down to about $80 including tax and tip.

The rest of the time we filled up on snacks we picked up along the way and smaller meals at a microbrewery. You can easily drive into Quebec City for a meal too if you’re looking for something specific.

What to do

From strawberry picking to wine tasting or just chilling on a hammock, there are so many activities on the island to choose from:

These are the sites we visited:

• Les Saveurs: they sell locally made jams, spreads, salsas, vinaigrettes and more

• Les Fromagerie: they sell locally made cheese

• La Seigneurie (requires tickets): a beautiful garden, they had a lavender field in bloom when we went.

• Pub Le Mitan: a modern pub with craft beers brewed on-site and a gorgeous terrace view.

• Vignoble Isle de Bacchus: vineyard with a view of St. Lawrence River where you can go wine tasting and eat at their bistro

One activity we didn’t have time for but I wish we could have gone to was one of the historical houses:

• Maison Drouin: a historical house that transports you back to the 1700s

• Maison de nos Aïeux: an old rectory turned into a museum that teaches the history of the island

Sunrise in Bagan

I woke up at 5am to stifling heat, silence and pitch black darkness. The air conditioning had gone out again but I was too groggy to care.

I pulled back the curtains, half hoping that the heavy rainstorm from last night hadn’t stopped so I’d have an excuse to stay in bed. It was too dark to see anything but I could feel that the air was utterly still.

Sunsets in Bagan were breathtaking and I could have stayed there for months just to watch the sunset. Sunrise, however, was a different matter because I am not a morning person and no matter what city I was in, my willpower was practically nonexistent.

But on our last day in Bagan, I was determined to watch the sunrise.

My friend woke up and we had a lengthy whispered debate about whether we should get up or not. Maybe it’d be rainy all morning. Maybe the sunrise would be blocked by clouds. Maybe the air conditioning would come back on.

But we eventually dragged ourselves out of bed and onto our rented electric scooter. As we zoomed down the empty roads, a faint pink hue had started tinting the horizon.

When you’re chasing the sun, nothing ever goes smoothly — especially when I’m the one in charge of directions. And most definitely when the rain has turned everything into a mess of slippery mud.

After a mishap due to my incorrect directions, we turned onto the right road but the “roads” were now pits of mud water. Roads that electric scooters carrying two people didn’t do well in.

It doesn’t take long for our scooter to sink into the mud, throwing us both off, and I decide that it’s a good idea to stand behind the scooter so I can push it. Moments later, I was splattered in mud after my friend revved the engines and she was in hysterics, laughing at me.

While all this is happening, the sky is on fire. Brilliant streaks of reds, oranges and fuchsias danced across the sky. 

Eventually we managed to push the scooter out with the help of a local boy who was riding by on his motorcycle. We slipped and slid to reach the base of the temple and hurried to the top to catch the last bit of sunrise before the blue skies took over.

As I stood there, out of breath, frazzled and brushing away dried mud, the orange sky effortlessly blended into blue.

First a faint light that cast a golden glow on all the temples and then a soft mist that settled over the surrounding greenery. Everything was still. Then the fog scattered and the sun made its way up. All we heard as we stood there, staring out at the thousands of Buddhist monuments, temples and stupas that decorated the horizon was the orchestra of birds chirping and twittering.

A curious foreigner on a moving train: Leaving Mandalay

The slow but steady fourteen hour journey from Mandalay to Bagan started in the late afternoon. The second we had stepped into the train, I felt the humid summer air press down on me, the wide open windows doing absolutely nothing to help air circulation.

The moment the train had pulled out of Mandalay station, I had been hit with a sense of emptiness. A curious feeling given that my weeks in Mandalay had been filled with nothing but warmth and kindness from the people I’d met. I’d met a monk on the U Bein bridge at sunset, discussed my relationship status with almost everyone I’d met (the first question was always whether I was married or single, never an in between option) and was in constant awe of the beautiful pagodas I visited. But it was only when I left a place that I started to feel like a foreigner, as if I was just an observer passing through.

Now the sun was starting to set, with only a strip of orange blazing across the horizon. I was glad for nightfall. There was even a slight night breeze as I rested my elbows against the edge of the window. The train rolled passed the glittering pagodas with mosaics that dazzled even in the dark. Pass the now empty marketplace that had been filled with shops of beautiful fabric waiting to be sewn into longyi. Pass the food stalls where I’d eaten bowl after bowl of refreshing shan noodles. Pass the twenty-four hour tea shops that were starting to bustle with laughter and chatter. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I hadn’t gotten to know the real Mandalay.

The train had long moved out of the city’s centre and was now approaching rural residential areas. We moved pass clusters of homes, tightly stacked against each other in an unruly puzzle. The street vendors had already packed up their goods and the shopkeepers had closed their stores. Everyone had returned home after a long day of work or school, and almost every house was lit.

Against the backdrop of the night sky, another side of Mandalay revealed itself to me, an observer sitting on a moving train. The train moved slow enough for for curious foreigners like me to peek into windows — and it seemed like people didn’t have a habit of drawing curtains or closing doors.

Families gathered around a table. Empty plates still on the table, remnants of a dinner.

Kitchens stocked with pots and pans, food still cooking on the stove.

A monk sat in the centre of a large room, empty of all furniture except for a round carpet. He was pouring over stacks of books that surrounded him.

Children squeezed around a television, their faces lit up by the soft blue light.

A man bent over a wooden Buddha statue, carving intricate details with great concentration.

Two women sat on the porch, one leaned against the wall and the other perched on the stairs. One woman used dramatic hand gestures as she animately told a story.

Streetlights illuminated the details of the bamboo and wooden houses. Some looked mismatched with slanted walls and rickety staircases. Some were meticulously built with lovely porches and splashes of colour. A turquoise door and a bright yellow staircase. A white fence and a purple windowsill.

Men lounging in the yard, beer in hand.

The silhouette of a cat sitting on a window ledge, tail swaying.

Three little boys in a yard, crowded around each other in a huddle, devising what seemed to be mischievous plan.

A sparkling red pinwheel was stuck to the side of a house, softly spinning, it’s tassels flying in the summer breeze.

Scenes of an intimate Mandalay revealed itself to me.

The train rolled on and we’d moved into the countryside, away from the clusters of neighbourhoods and streetlights. Now the only light source were the pinpricks of light in the distance and the fluorescent tubes in the train. The train rolled on, and I didn’t feel that earlier emptiness anymore.

Maybe part of me would always be an observer, a curious foreigner on a moving train.

But maybe that was okay.