St. John’s what, I wanna know.
Arrived for the first time, on a business trip, very late Monday night, sans baggage (Continental apparently sent it on to Rome, or something). Am now ensconsed in a hotel room with a fabulous view, gazing down on the oilfield supply boats Atlantic Kingfisher and Maersk Chignecto (if I ever try to pronounce that last one out loud, I’m pretty sure my head will explode within moments). Signal Hill and the harbour entrance are to my left, downtown to my right.
Had fish cakes for breakfast, fries with gravy at lunch. Seems like the thing to do. Have penciled in toutons and molasses for tomorrow morning. Everyone is unfailingly kind and polite, right down to the customs officials that questioned me at length concerning my business here and the lady from Continental who woke me up at 1 this morning with her phone call apologizing for my baggage having taken the Grand Tour, and saying that it would be delivered within the half-hour.
The rain started out horizontal last night, gradually turned to vertical during the day, and may actually stop by morning. The old wooden houses in town are, er, very colourful. The left-turn arrows on the traffic lights flash rapidly; that disturbs me for some reason. Nevertheless, although I’ve only been here 48 hours, I already want to retire to this place. Of course, it ain’t winter at the moment, so my perceptions may be skewed.
That’s all for now.
