Farewell Newfoundland

 I can’t believe I’m leaving a community that has a half-time and a full-time whistle.
 At 12 noon and again at 5pm, St. Anthony’s steam powered flute signals supper and the end of the working day. I’m convinced locals don’t hear it anymore; it’s like car horns in Bangkok or the rattle of a clapped out test tube on the Northern Line in London, it’s at the aural foundation of the community.
But, every time the kettle boils on the East Side of St. Anthony I know it’s time to take a break, or go home.
I’m going to miss it.
It’s not the only thing I’m going to miss.

****

“Just a quick question,” I said. (I’d like to add I was wide-eyed when I asked the question but being my eyes are always wide open when I speak, it’s probably superfluous fluff.)
George, on a Saturday no less, had already fielded questions about where two Australians could swap their licenses for Newfoundland ones, where was good to eat in town and – courtesy of our friend Mark who had driven us from Deer Lake to St. Anthony –  what kind of tidal fluctuations you could expect in the harbour and the Bight.

(Now keep in mind the following has been pieced together from notes written two years ago and contains a mixture of gibberish and journalism shorthand)

He looked at me from behind his desk willing to offer up any advice he could.
“Am I allowed to go fishing in the harbour?”
There was silence as he leaned back in his chair and sized me up from behind his moustache. His gaze suggested a concerted attempt to decide whether the long-haired bearded manchild who had stumbled into his office with two other Come From Aways was an idiot, ill-informed or naive (For the record, I am all three.)
“No b’y,” he said with a smile that over time I discovered was never far from his face, “even if you could you wouldn’t want to.”
It was sound advice.
I later discovered that A) unlike Australia where you can virtually wet a line anywhere you like at any time of the year, in Newfoundland, not even locals are allowed to fish; and B) what you’re likely to catch in the harbour isn’t piscatorial.
During our time we met many people like George. Happy and willing to give advice or tell a tale.

****

I’m never going to be able to quantify the ways I’ll miss this place but I’m definitely going to miss meeting someone on the street and hearing:
 “Whaddya at?”
It’s the question I will forever know the answer.
“This is it.”