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Leaving St. John’s later this afternoon. I’ve spent a beautiful and relaxing week on the rock, my first visit out here… which will certainly not be my last.
Arrived last Tuesday: played a show at the Ship Pub Wednesday Folk Night. Super fun.
Crazy buckets of rain only added to the adventure of visiting the Battery home of my friend Chris Brooks, home of Battery Radio; along a tiny, windy street on the other side of Signal Hill, a cluster of little colourful houses clinging to the rock on one side, ocean on the other. Torrents of water pouring down the rock outside his narrow, tall wooden house, making you feel like your inside of a ship. The sound of the fog horn in the distance.
Who knew St. John’s would be home to the best Montreal-style bagels (better than in Montreal), croissants and artisan breads: The Georgetown Bakery, yes my dear, that little place makes the most ridiculously delicious baked goods, I’ve been eating them like they are going out of style….breakfast lunch and dinner, while catching up with my friend Leah (her brother happens to own the bakery — just one of the many points that will be covered in the song I am writing a song for her called “Queen of Newfoundland” ). Dinner party, neighbourly visits (in St. John’s, it appears artists can afford to own houses!), a lovely evening of jazz courtesy of local darling Mary Barry, dinner and a brunch at The Sprout (very good veggie food). (Funny random fact: St. John’s has the most supermarket’s per capita of any city in Canada.) Lots of hiking around with Fogo the dog, and Iorek the Puppy:Â Signal Hill, Ladies Lookout, Cuckolds Cove trail; the incredible, endless view over the Atlantic ocean on the one side, all rugged coast, rock, sea and sky….and city of colourful wooden houses on the other side.
Friday, a drive out to the picturesque, coastal town of Brigus. A few cases of talking to people who might as well have been speaking another language for all I could understand — I love the Newfoundland accent, and I especially love that feeling that suddenly, as you’re listening to someone, you’ve lost all ability to comprehend the english language. Beautifully disorienting. Beautiful island. A week of putting the ocean inside me.