Newfoundland is a rough place. I visit in August, the height of summer. Granted, there is 1 sunny day, when temperatures soar to 25° C. For the rest of the week though, it is rainy, chilly and unpleasant. Hard to imagine winter here.
By the way. It is not "NewFOUNDland", but "NEWfunlan". People from here are "Newfies", and the native alcohol is called Screech. If you want to become a true local, you should get yourself "screeched in": say a poem in incomprehensible Newfie dialect ("Say something from here"); eat a piece of SPAM ("Eat something from here"); have a shot of Screech ("Drink something from here"), and, the best part, kiss a frozen cod ("Kiss something from here"). Did I do it? This will stay my secret for eternity...
Some more impressions:
 |
| Jetlag-induced early rise: Sunrise over Memorial University, St. John's |
 |
| Newfoundland, home of the puffin, the cutest thing since birds came sliced |
 |
| I settled in quite quickly, and soon ran a local business. |
 |
| Downtown St. John's |
 |
| Little boxes on the hillside, little boxes made of ticky-tacky... |
 |
| Man and the sea, an old story |
 |
| Humpback whale right next to the boat |
 |
| ...and gone |
 |
| Puffins, this time for real |
 |
| See you later! |
 |
| This unassuming piece of land is Cape Spear, North America's most easternmost point. |
 |
Whales, seabirds and fishermen all feeding on the same,
finger-long little fish, which congregates here in summer by the
millions to spawn
 |
Oh, the colors!
|
| |
 |
| Some more little boxes | |
| |
 |
Why hello there! Blast from the past.
|
|
 |
| Last sunlight on the campus and Signal Hill, where the first transatlantic radio signal was received. So long... |
No comments:
Post a Comment