Igloofest

Last week was the first time I’d been to Quebec in the winter, and I had an amazing time with only one regret: not bringing thicker socks. I’d always heard the warning stories of harrowed McGill students freezing their buns off and slipping on the icy hills, but didn’t really take it to heart until I went to Igloofest.

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Igloofest is exactly what it sounds like, a festival of structures made of ice. Igloos, slides, full bars and gigantic sculptures decorated Vieux-Port of Old Montreal, which was sectioned off into dance floors graced by the musical stylings of live DJs and dotted with extremity-saving fire pits (pretty sure I would’ve lost a toe or two to frost bite had I not put my feet in the fire). It was -25 degrees celsius, the kind of cold that even spiked hot chocolate and dancing can only stave off for so long.

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^ Note the shameless photo bomber in the background, staring directly into the camera.

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^ Yes, that is a 7-foot bottle of Bacardi made of ice

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I don’t think I’ll ever complain about the cold again.

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