Newfoundland: British, not Canadian, until 1949

Kirk would have had to let us stay all night.

 

Spent ten days in St. Johns when I was younger and I echo what people have said about Newfoundland. I have never met better people in my life. I went through the summer during the Gorge street festival, they basically shut down about 3 blocks and charge 10 bucks or so to get in. This allows you to get into each bar through that strectch and there are a ton of bars. This thread reminds me how much I would like to go back.

 

When I arrived in Newfoundland to work, I had but two suitcases of clothing, a toaster, and a few spare utensils from my mother.

She had also given me a couple hundred to get me through until my first paycheque.

Alack and alas, the exhaust system on my K-Car decided to fall off somewhere around Deer Lake. I limped into Gander four hours later and went to the first place I recognized as a car-service location. Unfortunately, it was Canadian Tire and they took almost every last cent I had.

I arrived at my new office the next morning, after a sleepless night at Hotel Gander, and introduced myself to the good folks. I managed to find a fully furnished apartment for the chill price of $350 a month, including utilities.

Now don't get too excited. I was only making $300 a week as a cub reporter (I earned a raise of $50 a week after my probationary period and I stayed at that salary until I left four years later).

I subsisted on toast and jam for four days ... breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Every morning, the older ladies (I never use the word 'ladies' as it conjures images of a class system for me, but there's no other word for these gentle women) would ask me what I had for dinner last night, now that I was a young, independent woman in my own apartment able to cook on my own.

They were quite troubled that every morning I would say, 'oh, toast and jam.' I suppose it was endearing because 'toast and jam' is quite the meal to Newfs ... it's traditional, it's comforting, and, best of all, it's cheap.

I would go into my office and try to suppress the hunger pangs, knowing I was one day closer to my first real paycheque (which I think totaled somewhere around $550 for two weeks of work).

But I think it was the Thursday of my first week, I came back from my lunch of toast and jam, and there on the floor of my office was a pile of grocery bags. Some had pots, some had dishes, most were filled with Tupperware full of leftovers, eggs, bread, jam, potatoes, chicken, frozen vegetables, and so much more.

I turned and Iris was standing there and said something like, 'Now, my ducky, you don't ask no questions. You just take this stuff home and make sure you come to us tomorrow morning with a full stomach.'

That, my dear SportsJournalists.com, is what Newfoundlanders are all about. Sorry for the novella, but it was a story that needed sharing.

 

I've got a copy of "When the World Came to Town." Great read and made me want to go to Newfoundland. Someday . . .

 

Great story Flash

 

Thanks, JC. It brought back a flood of memories and it got me weepy just by writing it.

 

You are probably spot on about the high school students not knowing but oddly enough our daughter's grade 5 class out here in Cowtown was learning all about the Acadians last year. We even made Acadian bread pudding.

I helped her with her project and was pretty into it as even though I knew the idea behind the Cajuns I did not really know the story terribly well - Damn Canadian school system!

As far as Newfies go, you can't swing a dead cat without hitting one around here. Oil and construction companies also regularly charter flights to take their oil patch workers back to the east coast.

On a personal level I always enjoy calling my buddies from Halifax "Newfies". They do not have much of a sense of humor about it.

 

Grrrrrrr ...

 

These Haligonians drink like Newfs so I just calls em as I sees em.

I am hosting for Grey Cup next year and am anticipating a gong show of epic proportions.

 

I honestly didn't know much about the Acadians until I read Antonine Maillet's novel Pélagie-la-Charette whch won the Prix Goncourt (the French equivalent of the Man Booker or Pulitzer) back in the 70's. If I'm not mistaken, someone did a musical based on the book a few years back which HC auditioned for. Great, rousing read.

There's also a great history of the Acadians by that notorious old Canadian lefty James Laxer published a couple of years back.

 

I'll be there.

 

A grasshopper on me at one of our finer (or less finer) establishments!