Canada – Newfoundland – St. John’s

2019 MAY 22 —–

The flight from Halifax was very rough. No one had to be reminded to keep their seat belt on. My seatmate and I kept knocking into each other.

St. John’s, Newfoundland. The whole purpose of this side trip. #33 on my bucket list – to see an iceberg!

I knew this was going to be an unusual trip when, at the airport, I was inquiring about renting a car at the rental stand. The girl told me that everything within St. John’s is walkable and the few times I would need a taxi would cost less than renting a car. Sweet! The girl at the tourist information desk said the same thing. She handed me a map and brochure then off I went to catch a taxi.

The taxi driver was “interesting”. He did not have a GPS and asked me how to get to my guesthouse. How the hell am I supposed to know!? I pulled out my GPS and helped him. Thankfully, it was a flat rate into town.

I got to the guesthouse and knocked on the door. Nothing. I knocked again. Nothing. Weird. Finally, a girl answered the door saying that she was also a guest there. Thankfully, she knew I was coming so she let me in.

Esma (Esmerelda) told me that if I had any intention of walking around town I had best get at it right away as the weather can turn on a dime and snow was in the forecast for the next day. SNOW!?!

I had a list of things that I wanted to see. Armed with my map off I went, feeling a bit like Indiana Jones. I was looking for the famous Jellybean Houses. The streets were not as straightforward as I had hoped. The city is built on the side of a very steep hill, and as a result the streets are a bit like switch-backs. I asked a fellow where these Jellybean Houses were. He looked at me rather strange, but pointed in the general direction. I came to realize later that there are colourful houses all over St. John’s. It is not just in one area or street, as I had previously thought.

The houses are mostly three storey row houses – sharing a wall on either side. They are so brilliantly coloured they look like doll houses. The streets are very hilly, so the roofs don’t line up and one side of the foundation seems to float above the sidewalk while the side, with the front door, is rammed into the hillside. Throughout my stay I took dozens of pictures of the houses. When I got home, I realized I had taken the same picture of the same row of houses a few times. I obviously could not get enough of them.

The houses had mailboxes next to the front door. Some of them were painted to look like the row houses.

There were chocolate bars with wrappers to look like individual houses, but when lined up they looked like the row houses.

There was even a Jellybean Row Shop.

I was told that the reason the houses are such crazy colours is because the fishermen use the leftover paint from painting their boats to paint their house. I also heard from a local, that not that long ago the houses were drab and unpainted. It has only been in the past few years that people could afford to paint them. Interestingly, the timeline she gave me coincides with the demise of the fishing industry.

I was so gob-smacked with the colourful houses that when I came across something else, it was almost a surprise. I wandered upon the National War Memorial for the soldiers of Newfoundland in WWI. Although it is the “National” memorial, it refers to the Dominion of Newfoundland as a nation, before it became part of Canada. It was unveiled on July 1, 1924 – what was their Remembrance Day – on the spot where Sir Humphrey Gilbert claimed Newfoundland for England. As coincidence would have it, when Newfoundland became part of Canada, July 1 was to become their new Canada Day. They still hold a Remembrance Day ceremony in the morning on July 1^st, then the afternoon is reserved for Canada Day celebrations.

Just across Water Street from the War Memorial was Harbourside Park. This park is where public festivals are held. It is also home to two statues of a Newfoundland dog and a Labrador Retriever.

The Newfoundland dog is theorized to be a descendant of the Tibetan Mastiff, Norse Black Bear Dog, Great Pyrenees or French Boathound. Whatever the origin of this dog, it has been considered its own breed since the inception of kennel clubs in the 1880s. The dog is very distinct with its large head, double layered waterproof coat, large tail that acts as a rudder, and webbed toes. It is a work dog, meant to excel in wet, wind and cold. It is extremely strong and intelligent.

The Labrador is descended from the Newfoundland but mated with Setters and Pointers to strengthen its gaming capabilities. It is smaller than the Newfoundland but has the same coat, tail, and webbed feet. It is a gentle and loyal dog, and I can personally attest to it being a family dog. It loves the water, too.

Around the park were numerous placards telling about the history of Newfoundland. There were placards all over town, in fact. I came away with more history on Newfoundland from the random signs than I had from any other place I ever visited. It is easy to see how proud the Newfoundlanders are of their heritage. They want everyone to know they were their own country, at one time, with a proud history.

I came away feeling proud to have them as a province, and saddened that they could not maintain their independent status. Their unselfish contribution to WWI bankrupted them.

I was told an alternate story, as well. There were only two banks in Newfoundland. They did not work so much on collateral, as on the barter system. When the owner of one bank died it was realized that he had no money. The second bank was guaranteed by the first bank, and consequently, had no money either. If the only two banks in the country are broke, then the country is broke. (Sounds like the 2008 financial crash.)

Walking along the harbour, I saw many big ships. Some were loading supplies, some were unloading supplies. There were a number of Coast Guard looking ships.

I made my way past the Port Authority to the Terry Fox Memorial. With one leg having been amputated due to cancer, it was here that Terry Fox started his Marathon of Hope, cross-Canada run to raise money and awareness for cancer research. After 143 days and 5,373 kilometres (3,339 mi) his cancer returned and spread to his lungs. He died on June 28, 1981 (aged 22). He had raised $1.7 million. As of January 2018, $750 million has been raised through the annual Terry Fox run that has grown into an international event with over one million participants in 60 countries. I am sure there isn’t a Canadian alive who cannot still see his double hop-step run and determined look on his face.

At this point it was getting late but the weather was still pleasant, so I decided to take a walk toward The Battery. It is a small neighborhood noted for its steep hills, colourful houses, and disproportionate amount of artists. It is often the poster-scene of Newfoundland. The streets were very narrow and most of the houses are sprinkled along the cliffs and doll-house looking. One house was half perched on a huge rock.

I had every good intention of walking up to Signal Hill, but it was getting late and I still had a 45 minute walk uphill. I changed my mind. Besides, the tower was already closed. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it…..

Walking back toward my guesthouse I came upon a really nice gift shop. The gentleman was super friendly. I was going to buy a postcard of the Jellybean houses and he told me exactly which street to go to for that exact photo. Why spend money on the postcard, he asked. Because it is a sale for you…. He also gave me a different map than what I had. I bought some items from him, and even returned two days later to buy some other things.

I walked up the tallest hill to the Basilica of St. John’s. In front of the church was a triple archway with a statue of St. John on the top. The grand church stood behind it, with a dominating the view of the city. The twin towers, that once served at the town clock towers, can be seen from nearly everywhere within the city and definitely from the mouth of the harbour.

Excavation started in 1839, the cornerstone was laid in 1841 and the Basilica was completed in 1855. It was the largest church building in North America and remains the second largest in Canada. Limestone and granite were imported from Ireland and bricks from Germany. It is such an important icon of St. John’s that during the fire of 1892 everyone, regardless of religion, worked to save it. The only times it was open was during mass, which is not conducive to looking around and taking pictures. I was sadly disappointed that it was closed when I got there. Partly because it was a REALLY steep hill to get there.

It covers a large chunk of real estate. I was told a cute urban legend where the Pope told the people they could have only the amount of land they could fence around the church in one day. The entire town turned out and built a fence that encircled much more than the Pope had intended.

The entrance into the harbour is very narrow. A ship could easily run the risk of hitting the rocks. I was told that the twin towers of the Basilica acted as a guide to enter the harbour – line up with the towers and enter safely. This was possibly another reason every available person worked so hard to save the Basilica during the fire of 1892. In olden times, that may have been true, however, today the safe entry into harbour is done by lining up two vertical green 1000 watt bulbs that are affixed to two buildings – marginally to the right of the Basilica and her twin towers. The modern leading lights burn 24 hours a day and can be seen for 32 km (20 miles). Needless to say, if a bulb burns out it is replaced promptly.

The next day I went down to where I was supposed to catch my Iceberg Quest tour. I wanted to be sure of the location was so there was NO chance of missing my time slot for that afternoon. On my way, I discovered that there are a lot of staired lanes that can quickly take someone from one street to the next without having to go to the end of the block. It reminded me a bit of Macleod Ganj, India – walk into a building at ground level, go up three flights of stairs and come out at ground level on the back of the house.

I was waiting for a bus that would take me up to Signal Hill, but it was very slow in arriving so I opted to take a taxi, as it was beginning to rain hard.

I got to Signal Hill just as the doors were opening. The Parks Service were not on sight yet, so I browsed through the interpretive center on the second level. It was here that I learned all about Guglielmo Marconi and the reason why it is called Signal Hill.

Although the current tower was built in 1898, “The Lookout” as it was previously called, was used as far back at the 1700s as signaling summit. Coded messages were sent between land and sea from its flagmast. The final battle of the Seven Years’ War was fought at the Battle of Signal Hill, where the French lost St. John’s to the British, under the command of Colonel Amherst.

Marconi began experimenting with wireless communication in the early 1890s. He knew it was possible, but for it to be taken seriously he would have to prove it. After some early experiments and breakthroughs, he decided to attempt sending a signal across the Atlantic Ocean. He called this challenge “The Big Thing”. What better place to attempt this experiment but from an existing tower on a hill that was already used as a signal tower.

Marconi met with Colonial Governor of Newfoundland Boyle and Dominion of Newfoundland Prime Minister Bond in St. John’s. They were eager to offer their full support and use of government facilities for his experiments. They thought he was conducting ranging experiments with ships at sea. Wireless communication could vastly improve safety and reduce the loss of life at sea by listening for distress signals, providing navigational assistance and reporting weather conditions. Marconi never revealed his true intention of conducting his Big Thing experiment, lest he fail and risk public humiliation. On December 12, 1901, he successfully received a message from Poldhu, Cornwall, England – a distance of 3500 km (2200 miles) – using a 150 metre (500 foot) kite-supported antenna for reception.

The Commercial Cable Company and Anglo-American Telegraph Company both operated transatlantic submarine telegraph cables. Their stocks fell like a rock after Marconi announced his success. Anglo-American hit Marconi with legal action, preventing him from building a powerful transmission station at Cape Spear, Newfoundland – not Canada.

On December 26, 1901, Marconi was on his way to New York, still optimistic despite Anglo-American’s block. His boat docked in Nova Scotia where he was met by the Premier of Nova Scotia and a Member of Parliament. They convinced him not to board the train to New York. Instead, they toured the area looking for a site where Marconi could build his wireless station. Dominion Coal Company at Table Head in Glace Bay offered to give Marconi the land. The next day he was on his way to Ottawa to settle the deal with the Government of Canada. By January 9, 1902, a deal was reached (proof the government can be effective even during Christmas break) where the government contributed $80,000 towards the construction of the Table Head station. Marconi would receive 10 cents per word – 60% lower than the cable company rate. In February of 1902, he repeated The Big Thing to quell the skeptics. In 1905, the year after the Anglo-American monopoly expired, there were 11 stations along the coast. The Canadian Marconi Company operated in Newfoundland until Confederation in 1949.

It was very windy (70 km/hr) and it had begun to snow, therefore Parks Service was not allowing anyone onto the observation deck on the roof. I decided to walk back down the hill into town, despite the snow and wind. I was told not to take the trail along the harbour, as it was too dangerous. I had to respect the advise of the professionals and locals and simply walked down the road that I had come up on.

When I got up in the morning and saw the weather forecast I realized I did not have adequate clothing. So I improvised. I put on a long sleeve merino wool turtleneck , a long sleeve cotton t-shirt, a short sleeve merino wool t-shirt, my long sleeved pajama top, my hooded fleece jacket, and my hooded raincoat. For my legs I wore merino wool long-johns, my pajama pants, my jeans, and my waterproof outer pants. I also had a woolen hat, trekking gloves, and 2 pair of socks inside my hiking boots. I was not too warm walking down the hill. It was snowing big fat flakes the size of chicken feathers with a bit of rain. Throw in a stiff wind and there you have it.

The good news was I found out that my gloves will keep my hands warm even when they are wet enough to squeeze water out of when I make a fist. Also, my boots keep my feet dry. My vinyl purse did not fare so well. Snow and rain landing onto the zipper leaked into the purse. Everything inside was soaked! Later, back at the guesthouse, I had to gently pry apart each page of my trusty notebook and hoped that it would dry out so I could retrieve all my travel notes. (it did)

I stopped at Deadman’s Pond and read more placards about the history of this specific part of Newfoundland going back to John Cabot. Since I doubted I would come back this way, on this trip, I took some pictures from the lookout as well.

I continued to walk through The Battery and read that it is called The Battery because of its role in the defence of St. John’s Harbour. In 1762, construction of a boom of timber and chains was put into the hands of 33 year old James Cook, future navigator and explorer. The defensive boom stretched from Chain Rock, an outcrop near The Battery, across the Narrows to Pancake Rock on the opposite side – a distance of 174 metres (571 ft). It was pulled into place every night to keep enemy ships from sneaking into the harbour in the cover of darkness.

During WWI & WWII the defensive chain was replaced by anti-submarine nets to prevent German U-boats from entering the harbour. This was a real threat because the U-boats did position themselves outside of the harbour to try to prevent supply ships from getting to Britain. One German torpedo did strike the cliffs below Amherst Lighthouse and exploded. The frightened lighthouse keeper and his family quickly moved into town. Years later, an unexploded torpedo was found stuck in the anti-submarine net and believed to have been launched that same night. The barrier was made of countless cable rings, similar to chain-mail armour of olden times, but with next to no give. The mesh moved only an inch or two when pulled.

Newfoundland was key in the defence of all of North America. 20 years ago it was discovered that Churchill, Eisenhower and Borden secretly met to lay the plans for razing Newfoundland should the Nazis take the island. That’s a scary thought!

I decided to stop at a pub near where I was to take my Iceberg tour and have lunch. It was in the pub that I discovered the inside of my purse was soaked. It was also at this time that Iceberg Quest called to cancel the tour due to the weather. I can’t say I was heartbroken to get the news. They rescheduled me for the next day.

I had my lunch and headed straight to the guesthouse to empty my purse and spread everything out to dry. With an afternoon to kill and nasty weather to contend with, I thought it would be a good day to spend in The Rooms – a museum of Newfoundland history. The Rooms are across the street from the Basilica. That meant another walk up the tallest hill. Sigh. The Basilica was still closed.

The Rooms got is name in reference to the simple gable-roofed sheds (called “fishing rooms”) that were once common at the waterfront in Newfoundland fishing villages. It was rather boxie looking. The interior of The Rooms was anything but boxie. It has huge windows reaching all the way up to the third level. The floors are polished stone that reflect the light. The staircases have glass banisters, which allow more light. On the second level is a huge observation area where I had a bird’s eye view of the city. Beside the observation area was a restaurant with its own large windows and fantastic view. I rather regretted having eaten earlier.

There are three parts to The Rooms. The Archives Division, on the third floor, preserves records of the government as well as private sources as they are deemed of historical value. The Rooms also houses The Provincial Art Gallery, which I did not visit. The Provincial Museum part focuses on the natural and cultural history of Newfoundland and Labrador going back to the aboriginal people. It also covers the British military history, the Royal Constabulary, and the cultural impact of the area’s Irish fishermen. This is where I spent most of my visit.

There was a history of the Mi’kmaq, Inuit and Innu people. The stories were brutally honest in depicting the demise of the aboriginal culture by missionaries. Their sacred drums for communicating with animal masters and the spirit world were burned during their introduction to Christian ways. Nature was exploited rather than revered.

Initially, young Irishmen came to Newfoundland to work in the summer cod fishery. During the peak in the 1770s, over 5000 men left Ireland each spring. The money was good, but most returned home in the fall. However, in the 1790s more and more workers stopped going home. In fact, in 1798 two out of every three inhabitants of Newfoundland were of Irish birth or descent.

However hardworking the Irish may have been, they were mostly Catholic and the rift between them and the Protestant British was deep. There was a point where it was illegal to hold a Catholic service. People could be fined and even deported for attending. In 1755 the Governor ordered the burning of all buildings used for secret Catholic worship. This persecution reinforced the Irish identity and their ties to the Catholic Church.

The journey from Ireland to Newfoundland was not for the faint of heart. There was a story that was written in 1833 by a fellow that spoke of the weather being so bad and the sea so tossed they were forced to stay in bed because the ship heaved so badly they could not stand up. They were all sick. He wrote, “You can be sure that there is not a saint in the calendar that was not invoked.” And yet they were resilient enough to return year after year.

There were exhibits of the Dominion of Newfoundland’s postage stamps, and money.

There were lots of historical pictures of the cod fishing hey-day. The impact of the death of the Cod Industry was shown.

When I got to the exhibit about Newfoundland’s role in WWI, I was struck by a photo of a young sailor who just seemed to call me in.

There were tests to see if you would qualify as a soldier. There were stats on how many men served and in what capacity. There were huge photos from the battlefields, some were whimsical, others gut-wrenching. Along with the photos were explanations of what was happening when, and why, and the role of the Newfoundland military.

All I can say is they were a brave lot, and the world owes them a huge debt. In Beaumont-Hamel, France there is a bronze statue of a Caribou (the emblem of the Royal Newfoundland Regiment) that stands as a symbol of remembrance and as a tribute to all Newfoundlanders who served and to the 700 who died at the Battles of the Somme and Beaumont-Hamel.

There was a woolen sock on display. In 1914 the Women’s Patriotic Association used to knit socks for the soldiers. The stripes on the leg signified the size: White for small, blue for medium and red for large.

The weather had cleared a bit and I spent the rest of the late afternoon wandering around, taking in more beautiful colourful houses, finding more statues with information placards, and coming across more historical buildings.

I finally made my way to Trapper John’s pub to be screeched in. John was a wealth of historically significant, as well as useless information. For example: Newfoundland is the bologna capital of Canada. There are only a half million people in Newfoundland, but they eat 7 million pounds of bologna a year. He swore the green, white and pink flag is the official flag of Newfoundland. He declared it is a spin-off from the green, white and red Italian flag, in a nod to Giovanni Caboto (John Cabot) and his 1497 discovery of the New Found Land for King Henry VII of England. In reality, no one knows for sure how this tri-colour flag came to be part of Newfoundland history. It is, for certain, the flag of the Roman Catholic fraternal organization the Star of the Sea Association (SOSA) that was established in St. John’s in 1871. Mary, the mother of Jesus, is known as the Star of the Sea. Considering the Irish sea-faring Catholic, this is a reasonable conclusion.

On a serious note, during WWII the Americans set up many air force bases and hospitals in St. John’s. (Remember, the plan to raze the island?) When 9-11 happened, many stranded planes could land here because of the infrastructure was already in place. He said there were hundreds of Newfoundlanders at the airports that day with signs saying they could take 2, 3 or 6 people in. In typical Newfoundland hospitality, they took the stranded passengers into their homes, and proceeded to show them a good time!

I went through the necessary rituals to become an honourary Newfoundlander. I declared my intent by shouting “Yes B’ye”. I swore my oath “In deed I is me old cock and long may your big jib draw”. I kissed the cod and slugged back a stiff shot of Screech.

Having come from Polish stock and no stranger to home-brew, the Screech was actually pretty good. Centuries ago Newfoundland fishermen traded salt cod for Jamaican rum. It was just “olde black rum” and had no official name until WWII when an American serviceman tasted the rum and let out a loud screech (whimp). Thereafter it was officially named Newfoundland Screech.

The next day was a bit better weather but I was in no hurry to go out the door in the morning. I chatted with my guesthouse host and he told me all about growing and selling hops to small micro-breweries. I also found out he was a stand-up comedian. Darn, I wish I had known that sooner!

When I finally did venture out of the house, I wandered around and looked into the shops that sold seal fur apparel. Short boots ran about $400 while taller boots were $600. Kids mittens were $70. Long coats were $3500. They said the seal hunting industry is alive and well, despite the huge outcry in years past. There are limits on when and how many seals can be hunted. Basically, no different than deer or moose hunting here in Alberta. I bought some Newfoundland chocolate instead.

I went back to the pub where I had eaten the day before, near the Iceberg tour boat. The waitress insisted that I sit at the bar because “it is more fun”. Indeed it was! I sat with a gentleman from British Columbia who was also in town to see the icebergs. I met a lot of people there for the same reason. He had gone out earlier in the week and said the weather was clear, sunny and warm. They had seen some 500 foot monsters. My hopes were way up!

There were about 12 of us on board the Iceberg Quest. We all headed up to the upper level. We were very excited with the wind in our faces as we made our way through the harbour. The Captain pointed out various landmarks. He pointed out the Basilica and The Rooms next to it. A lady next to me, Janet, said there is a joke that goes “There is the Basilica,,,, and the box it came in.”

We had a good view of The Battery as we went through The Narrows. The Narrows is the only entrance to St. John’s Harbour. It has a depth of 11 metres. At it’s narrowest point it is 61 metres (200 ft) wide.

Our gung-ho enthusiasm faded as we left the shelter of the harbour through the Narrows. The wind picked up and the sea got rough. We were heading out to look for icebergs in 4 meter (13 ft) swells and 40 knot winds (74 km/hr). There was an iceberg not far from the mouth of the harbour. It was not very bit but it had the most brilliant blue stripes. The captain explained that there is NO air bubbles in that blue ice. It is the oldest (20,000 years old) and most dense. Janet told me that she always keeps iceberg ice in her freezer because it takes forever to melt in a drink.

We made our way to a larger iceberg, about 44 metres (150 feet) across. It wasn’t the monster buddy in the pub saw, but remember, you only see 10% of an iceberg. The boat could not get too close because #1: the iceberg can roll over, and #2: there is a huge backwash of waves that really causes the boat to heave and toss. I was very thankful for the acupuncture bracelets I had brought along, as I did not get sea sick. At times the boat would toss what seemed lie 90% from side to side. We had to hang onto the rails for dear life.

We ventured back toward the mouth of the harbour where we saw a smaller iceberg just below Signal Hill. The guide on board said that because the water was so rough we were staying close to the coast. She said on calm days they venture further out and see bigger icebergs. Earlier in the week, there had been some 500 foot monsters that had come near the coast. Buddy in the pub must have been on that trip. (Damn!)

Between the second and third iceberg our bravado waned and most everyone ventured into the cabin. Many wrapped the supplied blankets around themselves to warm up.

It was a short but memorable adventure but we were all happy to be on land again. A few of us headed to the nearby Starbucks to warm up and share stories.

Janet was a retired RCMP. Years ago someone in her unit caught an 11 year old boy smoking a joint (not yet legal) behind the school. The cop said he would have to call the boy’s mother. The boy was crying and begging him not to call her. “She’ll kill me if she finds out.” The cop asked the boy where he got he joint in the first place. “From Mom’s purse. She’ll kill me if she finds out that I was in her purse.”

Janet Merlo has a book “No One to Tell” available on Amazon. She is the brave RCMP officer who blew the lid off the, mostly female, abuse within the RCMP. So many women came forward that, two years later, their cases are just now being reviewed. She is a brave, yet humble, woman who I am proud to have met.

On my last day in St. John’s I took a taxi out to Quidi Vidi. It is a small community not too far from St. John’s. Its claim to fame is the Quidi Vidi Brewing Company. It is a micro-brewery that harvests iceberg ice and makes beer with it. I had some in the days prior and it is really good!

I got there too early, so I had to kill some time before their tour started. The little village was quaint and quiet. There were fishing rooms scattered along the shore of the small lake. Boats were pulled up onto the launch. I wandered over to a local craft shop. It looked like each person rented a small workspace to do their specific craft. Items ranged from wood carving to pottery and sewing.

Back at the Quidi Vidi Brewery, I was the only one taking the tour. I was lead to their tasting room / pub where I was given 4 small glasses of different beers. Iceberg Beer was front and centre. The fellow told me that the water from the icebergs is so pure the yeast for the beer won’t ferment. They have to add a bit of tap water. It is a smooth beer that reminds me of Belgian White Beer.

Next up was their 1892 beer. It was a regular tasting beer. The story behind this beer is that after the fire of 1892 that burned 70% of the town, a brewer began making this particular recipe and it has stuck around. Next was Day Boil, after the Newfoundland slang for getting a mid-day buzz on. The beer did not have a high alcohol content which is designed to let you drink all day and not get drunk. Endure to have fun! It had a strong taste that I did not care for. The final beer was Bog & Barrens. It was the first time I had tasted sour beer, and I loved it! It was made in collaboration with a well-known chef. They combined bake apples (a sour berry) from Labrador and sea salt from Bonavista to make this 7.5% alcohol beer. It was sweet, sour, tart and fruity. The best I can describe it is like slightly fermented wine with a heady beer taste. Sounds horrible, but tasted delicious!

I had a plane to catch, back to Halifax. I called a taxi, had him stop at the guesthouse where I had my bags ready to go, and off we went to the airport. It was the same driver that brought me from the airport, but at least, this time, he knew the way. I have this long standing belief that all taxi drivers are crooks. He did not prove me wrong. This guy asked if he could stop at a 7-11 to buy a slurpee and some cigarettes. He promised to shut the meter off, which he failed to do. Needless to say, when I went to pay him (in cash because he had no credit card machine) I failed to give him a tip.

A few other things of note: Every fire hydrant has a tall pole beside it, which hints at how much snow they must get in the winter.

Everyone has time to chat. The waiters and waitresses don’t just come to see how your meal is, they ask how your day is going, and offer suggestions. My meal actually got cold chatting with them. Not a bad thing, for me.

Newfoundlanders have their own dialect.

I managed to take one last picture of an iceberg – from the air.