I fell in love with him almost instantaneously. His coal-black eyes glistened in the light of the low-horizon sun, while his broad smile stretched from ear to ear. His embrace was warm, yet enticing, as if to say, “Take a chance.”

His jaunty rainbow sash was complemented by the fire-engine red of his stocking cap. We briefly exchanged names: his was Bonhomme. “Bonjour and welcome to Québec!” the snowman said as he hugged me, making me feel ever so special.

It’s easy to love Bonhomme, the mascot of Carnaval de Québec, the largest winter carnival in the world. Loosely translated, the “good man” from Québec is the living incarnation of the snowmen that have enchanted Québec’s children for generations.

Bonhomme, a friendly snowman, is the ambassador of the winter carnival.

Bonhomme has been the event’s ambassador since 1955, when the carnival was first celebrated in Québec. He heralds the countless pleasures of winter in a historic city that is blanketed with European panache.

Each year, more than a million participants converge for a celebration that makes the cold of winter downright fun for everyone. I stayed warm with a plethora of activities to choose from.

The festivities start with a grand opening ceremony. There are musical celebrations of “fire and ice,” night parades, sled runs, snow-sculpture events and figure skating shows. The brave can even take a “snow bath,” clad only in a bathing suit.

Or you can participate in horse-drawn sleigh or dogsled rides, skijoring competitions — in which skiers are pulled by horses — snow rafting and ice fishing on the Plains of Abraham, a 264-acre (1 km2) site that was developed by the National Battlefields Commission to commemorate the battles that were fought in Québec.

There was never a dull moment. As I hung my fishing pole over one of several holes in the ice, I did not wait long for the gentle tug that told me I had snagged dinner. After friendly event staff helped unhook my 8-inch (20 cm) trout, I noticed a sign that asked for donations to a local food shelter; this is where my fish went.

My friend and I, however, made our way to a sugar shack for a maple treat. We tasted taffy on snow while reminiscing about the 1963 pop-rock song Sugar Shack, by Jimmy Gilmer and the Fireballs. “So this is what it’s all about,” I mused silently as I enjoyed my sweet treat.

My favorite was probably the giant table soccer game in which I was tethered with my teammates to a horizontal pole, which served to unite our movements as well as punish our independence.

Lacking the agility of my younger team members, I more than compensated with a few clever blocks of the “foosball” — a large, but airy, ball that had a mind of its own. Unfortunately, we lost. But the belly laughter of all players and new friends more than assuaged the temporary sting of defeat.