Best Laid Plans

Well as the saying goes... "the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry," and all my good intentions to add to this blog every Sunday have already been derailed as I missed last week. Sorry!

So here is the blog post I should have had up last week. It details my time initially getting here and exploring the city before school starts. My next post (which I'll try to post on Tuesday) will describe life this past week as I’ve gotten settled into my living situation and begun to meet people, learn more about classes, and explore what the campus at Memorial University has to offer.

So…onward!

Chapter One: Playing the Tourist

So, you’re going to Newfoundland. What do you bring with you? As much as two suitcases, a carry-on, and a “personal item” (aka another carry-on) will allow.

Also a must-have travel accessory: an old friend and fellow adventurer, if they’re willing to come along for the ride.

Rebekah and I arrived in town late Tuesday, August 30th, and other than a hiccup with one bag not arriving (which seems a common happening here) all went well. (The bag, by the way, arrived at the hotel the next day. The Newfoundland airport has this down to an art.) We gathered several brochures and maps from the airport information desk to help us plan out our next few days, then grabbed a taxi to our hotel to rest up for our adventure.

One of the brochures from the airport.

The next morning, this was our view from the hotel window...

Much of that first day was spent running errands (setting up my bank account, etc.), poking around the town, ducking into little shops, and getting lost trying to find the Anglican church, where we'd read they served tea in the crypt through the end of August. When we did finally find the church it was only to discover that their tea times were finished for the season. Alas! But our hunt was not in vain: later that night we took the Haunted Hike ghost tour through the city, and our meeting spot was the front steps of... you guessed it... the Anglican church.

Wandering through the (hilly!) city

A lovely building we kept encountering in the process of being lost

Sampling the local cuisine: Poutine (AKA french fries, gravy, and cheese)

That evening we met a lovely couple from Ontario, Stephano and Karen, who were driving around the area on their vacation. We talked about their careers as probation officers working with younger kids and teens. We talked about Canada, what they loved about their home. We talked about American politics ("We look at Donald Trump and we’re afraid for your country, then we stop and realize how afraid you must be yourselves.") And we talked about music, at which they gave us the tip to head to O'Reilly's pub after our ghost tour as an excellent fiddler was set to play there that night.

Stephano, doing his best Al Pacino impression

The next day of tourist-ing involved a quick trip out of town to take a puffin-and-whale-sighting tour. It was late in the season for whales, so we didn't see any of those, but we saw some beautiful scenery and lots of puffins!

Each of those clumpy-looking bits of grass is actually a puffin nest!

A puffin! They moved too fast to get good pictures, but we saw tons of them!

While out at sea, we also participated in a Newfoundland tradition called the "screech in." Once "screeched in," you become an honorary Newfoundlander. It's a four step process. First, you are asked "Are ye a Screecher?" and you must respond in the traditional Newfoundland way: "Deed I is, me old cock, and long may your big jib draw!" (Translation: Yes indeed, my good friend, and long may your sail draw wind.)

Step two involves taking off a shoe and sock. In this case, they told us to do our left foot. Then they brought out a bucket of water and had us dunk our right foot (yes, the one with the shoe still on!) in the bucket.

The next step traditionally involves kissing a cod fish, but since the tour company specialized in puffins they made us kiss the tail end of a stuffed animal puffin instead.

And the final step involves drinking a shot of "Screech," a local Newfoundland rum, to officially seal the deal.

Here we are, officially screeched in.

The last full day of Rebekah's stay we decided to hike to the top of Signal Hill. Not only does the hill offer beautiful views of St. John's, but it's also famous as being the spot where Guglielmo Marconi received the first transatlantic wireless transmission in 1901.

St. John's

It was a long walk, but quite beautiful, and it had its perks... wild blueberries being one of them!

The tower where Marconi received the signal that gives the hill its name

Look at this place!

On the way back down the hill, I sprained my ankle which put an end to our plans to visit The Rooms museum. Instead we walked/hobbled all the way back to our hotel so I could ice and wrap my foot. That evening we caught Pokemon while eating dinner, then found our way to a lovely little place called the Black Sheep to listen to a jazz singer perform (think Norah Jones). We were soon wrapped up in a spell, comprised in equal parts of the music, the drowsy light, the weariness of the day, and the mesmerizing effect of the painting on the wall above us (entitled "Macbeth," though the image of a woman gazing in adoration at a crowned man did not seem dark enough to warrant the title).

In the morning Rebekah jetted off in a taxi to the airport, on her way home to her family. And I stayed behind, resting my ankle and preparing my things for the move the next day into the place I'll be living for the next two years...

TO BE CONTINUED... (dun dun DUN)