‘Come on down’, says the sign on the fence. And I do, but to emphasize the point from my last post, then have to climb back up.
This is a town for hill walkers. Really it’s the only satisfactory way to absorb things. St. John’s is, of course, North American, but, like Quebec City, stands out as quite distinct. It has all the usual Canadian banks, drug stores and coffee chains, but frequently something firmly says this is different.
Over a downtown sidewalk a sign for a store from another time.
Along with Harris Tweed jackets, Chafe’s offers ‘boaters’ with college colours from the 1920s. They’re ready for a major holiday, the Royal St. John’s Regatta. This year will be the 199th, the continent’s oldest organized sporting event.
Wherever you are, water’s not far. An oil rig supply vessel glimpsed through trees …
… or cheerful signal flags proclaiming another cruise ship's arrival.
A wander before mid-morning coffee lets me inspect the Coast Guard’s Sir William Grenville in for maintenance and high above an old waterfront property.
Cod is - was - the very foundation of this island and city. But, fish stocks collapsed and in 1992 twelve thousand fishermen and fifteen thousand fish plant workers were largely out of work.
Fishing boats, this one grimly - but aptly when you think of it - called Executioner, still can be found. Not cod, but halibut, shrimp and snow crab are its harvest. And the fishing jobs lost with cod have never been fully replaced.
Offshore oil became Newfoundland’s saviour and oil rig supply and service vessels line docks where fishing boats once predominated. The price of oil rose and with it St. John’s economy. The price of oil dropped and St. John’s again faces all-too-familiar uncertainty.
Cradling an ‘Iceberg Beer’ (‘lager brewed from 20,000 year old iceberg water’), I listen as Larry Foley sings ‘Back Home on the Island’ and ‘St. John’s Waltz’. In the words of composer Ron Hynes:
‘All the sailors got a story
Some are true, some are false
But they're always wrecked and they're up on the deck
Dancin' the St. John's Waltz’.
(From Larry's CD ‘Come Along with Me Bys’, which, now home, I’ve played time and again. Credit to Avondale Music Ltd. If English is not your first language, ‘Bys’ approximates how Newfoundlanders say ‘boys’.)
Outside, something I’ve not seen in decades. A newspaper seller - I’m told the city’s last - hopes for customers.
His paper, the St. John’s Telegram, provides solid news and endless entertainment. In Witless Bay (unusual names an island specialty), the local citizenry is infuriated with its non-performing council.
I trust this doesn’t lead to coronaries and need to take unexpected advantage of ‘up to 30% off’.
Just as island place names have achieved some renown (forgive me, Canadian readers) - Heart’s Delight, Dildo, Come By Chance, Mistaken Point (all relatively close to St. John’s) …
… so city streets and squares reflect history and sentiment.
Mind you, some signs are in better shape than others.
Puddister still profitably operates, but I like the sign’s weathering.
The elegant Colonial Building, onetime seat of government, seems in splendid shape …
... Moo Moos Dairy Bar not quite so, but the ice cream is very good.
I have daily been enchanted by a crazy quilt of colours, weathered and otherwise. Just as well cameras are now digital, not film, or I would be faced with a monumental processing bill.
A final picture, a flag, perhaps left over from Canada Day on July 1, discovered down a little lane. Newfoundland somewhat reluctantly became part of Canada and its relationship with the mainland has often been complicated. For better or worse (I like to think for better) they chose us and, unquestionably, Newfoundland has a special place in the hearts of most Canadians.
Late this afternoon, I’m flying out, but hope to return and - eyes permitting me to drive - next time see more of the Avalon Peninsula on which this singular, quite wonderful little city lies.
