Carnaval de Quebec: The world's largest winter festival

Is this the ne plus ultra of decadence? Quebec City's Hotel de Glace is a wonder of engineering and design, yet after shimmering in sub-zero glory for less than three months, it will be demolished, melting into nothing. As I sip my cocktail from a glass of the purest, lab-made ice, while perched on a seat carved from the same strikingly clear material - so smooth it demands to be caressed despite the cold - it's inconceivable that all this will be no more a few weeks from now.

Tonight, though, majestic ice columns rise up to meet arched ceilings of pristine snow, packed as hard as concrete. Entranced by these translucent and opaque white surfaces' transformation with each intensely colourful shift in lighting, I hardly spare a thought for how I will sleep on the solid block of H₂O waiting in my freezer-like chamber, but eventually it's time for the essential briefing.

At its conclusion, nothing but the demonstrator's smiling face can be seen peeping out of the Arctic-rated sleeping bag, and I am off to the outdoor spa – apparently I must warm my body before replicating the cocooning process. I'm unsure which is more bizarre: boiling myself while surrounded by snow or, as I settle down for the night, watching vapour rise into the frigid air from my bare feet.

After a surprisingly sound sleep - all but my nose retains that hard-earned heat - I step outside into silently falling snowflakes. I have passed the trial by ice, and am ready for the world's largest winter festival: Carnaval de Quebec (celebrating its 61st edition from January 30 to February 15).

If sleeping on a bed of ice seems peculiar, what about frolicking in snow wearing little more than a swimsuit? The Snow Bath (or Bain de Neige as it's known in the predominantly French-speaking province of Quebec) is a highlight of this festival devoted to having fun with frozen water. Sometimes crazy fun. Scores of super-pumped snow bathers expose their flesh for minutes on end, raising their arms in ecstatic triumph; their excitement is so infectious I almost consider ... participating next year.

Other events for extremists include canoeing on the fast-flowing, semi-frozen St Lawrence River, but for the rest of us there's the thrill of watching, and more accessible activities, from zooming down a huge snow slide in an inner-tube, to gliding along in a horse-drawn sleigh. I spend a day living childhood fantasies drawn from storybooks and Christmas songs: ice-skating outdoors, strolling among spectacular snow sculptures, and hugging Carnaval's adorable snowman mascot, Bonhomme. Well, I must admit, that last fantasy was spontaneous.

At night, the scene is even more magical, as Carnaval's colours and lights gleam against black sky and white snow. A parade snakes through the streets, wowing the all-ages crowd with dozens of floats and hundreds of costumed performers inspired by themes including Mary Poppins and The Little Shop of Horrors. I am amazed by the participants' unrelenting energy and enthusiasm in double-digit-below-zero degrees, until increasingly cold toes prompt me to jig around a bit too.