Great Concert. Big Fun. Sea of No Cares.

Great Concert. Big Fun. Sea of No Cares.

It was all present during Great Big Sea's outdoor concert at Safari Niagara this past August. The boys sailed into Stevensville, ON and delivered their trademark energy sending waves of elation to wash over the cluster of fans. Anyone who listens to Great Big Sea's music probably wonders if singer and guitarist Alan Doyle is as crazy and spirited in concert as he sounds on CD. And of course, like most multi-talented musically-reared musicians, his passion and energy comes across tenfold live. This is a man who obviously loves to perform and engage the audience. The entire band has always succeeded in doing that. Regardless of how many times I hear Sean McCann belt out General Taylor, with or without the heartbeat drum accompaniment, it always gives me chills.

The name of this tour is XX. Twenty. 2013 marks the band's 20th Anniversary of getting people on their feet and sharing in the craft of traditional and contemporary music. Upon reflection, I realised I've actually been immersed in their artistry for probably that long. The first time I saw them was many years ago - sometime in the  mid-90's. I was visiting my parents for Christmas, and a close friend of mine invited me to a concert at the Delta Hotel Ballroom in St. John's. I didn't recognise the name of the band but he assured me I would enjoy it and he never steers me wrong so I accepted the invitation. Great Big Sea was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before. I wasn't a big concert goer back then, and growing up in a small Labrador community didn't expose me to a whole lot of musical diversity. The concert was standing room only which didn't matter because nobody would have been able to stay seated anyway. I became intoxicated by the exuberance of the crowd and the passion of the performers harmonizing their lyrics and alternating instruments as effortlessly as we alternate cutlery. I was enthralled by the buzz of the crowd who gleefully sang along and somehow knew that the sad introduction to the story of Pat Murphy wasn't really going to be that sad of a song...

I still can't confirm how far back that concert occurred because my original ticket stub doesn't have a year on it!!! It just has Friday, Dec. 27th at 8:30 pm. But that's OK. I'm just glad to have been there as well as many more of their concerts over the years. And following the 2013 concert where I took this picture from the grass of Safari Niagara I was proud to purchase their anniversary tour t-shirt knowing that I was singing along to Mari-Mac long before anyone else in Stevensville, ON was doing it! That is, if they even can!

Salted View on the Rock

Salted View on the Rock

Cabot Tower, Signal Hill, NL

 

 

This is my latest in an eclectic collection of self-portraits. Never one for symmetrical or sparkly pretty,  I enjoy the natural filters applied by the reflective surface of choice: the abstracted ripples of a stainless steel wine fermenter, a round mirror's distortion, a window's slightly muted weathering... always unique and always inverted!

 

I love the idea of capturing by my own hand a moment in time in a place that intrigues me. They are so personal to me that I never have to write down where or when they were taken, even as they float contently in a sea of thousands of images.

 

This one was taken during a trip to St. John's, NL. I was looking into the exterior of the Cabot Tower while standing atop its roof and my Mom was looking towards the ocean due east! I was visiting in July and in addition to the warm sunshine, there was barely any wind! Another different way to experience the rock.

 

 

 

The spot on which we're standing can be seen in the photo below:

 

 

 

 

 

And for those of you who don't know what the Cabot Tower is, here is my full shot in all its strong, stately glory:

 

 

 

It's funny because I visit St. John's yearly and whenever I'm there, I venture to Signal Hill and I devour the imagery with my camera. Every time. Of course I always add new corners and streets to the list of things I want to see, but Signal Hill is always included. And I always grin when I'm standing there and I imagine that I'm taking the same shots again and again. But today, as I was searching for the specific illustrative shots seen in this post, I had to go through my archives to find them! The first picture is from 2013, the second one 2012, and the third was taken in 2010! So it's gratifying and exciting to learn that I am adding to my collection every time. And that regardless of how many times I see a familiar landscape or building or historic site, there is always something new to discover. After all, it is being experienced through refreshed eyes and another year's worth of experiences and understanding.

 

Sailing in Newfoundland

Conception Bay South, NL

View of Bell Island in the distance

July 17, 2013

 I lay back onto the deck and closed my eyes, relaxing all of my limbs, becoming even more aware of the gentle nudging of the waves. The sun was warm on my face, but not too warm. The breeze fluttered along my cheek but didn't chill it. It was a perfect day for sailing. 

I opened my eyes and allowed my gaze creep up the length of the mast. Beyond it, the brilliantly white clouds provided a fine accent to the azure sky. 

We had been out on the water for about three hours, and were now on our return voyage. My cousin, the captain, was inherently comfortable on the open water. His Dad, my uncle, instilled his love affair with sailing into his family, but I think to my cousin most of all. This, of course, trickled down into my cousin's own daughters, one of whom was joining us on this excursion. The two of them made a good team, easily interpreting orders while raising the sail, and providing feedback on where to drop the anchor. 

They had collectively decided it was a good day to moor at Kelly's Island, one of the three islands in Conception Bay South. It was quite a thrilll for my kids to sail onto the doorstep of this mass of rock that until now provided only a backdrop to numerous walks on the beach. The layers of sedementary rock formation are visible from land but downright captivating to observe close up:

As we made our way along the island's beach we had to stay a safe distance from its wall of rock for fear a shelf would give way! I felt like an explorer as we ascended the one safe path, excited to reach the top and see what it looked like. Of course, with its spruce trees and tall grass,  it resembled any other mass of forest in Newfoundland. But blend in the ocean view and distant community coastline and you know you're somewhere different. 

I had read in a tourism post somewhere that the ocean didn't bring icebergs this summer, but there were lots of whales. I reminded my boys of the whales we'd watched from the shore just a couple of evenings prior. So then, of course, we all began studying the rippled water for the chance to see one up close! And we weren't disappointed... we were treated to several sightings of whales as they gracefully surfaced. I captured a couple of them wth my 300 zoom lens but put it down soon after to ensure I also experienced it through my own lenses.

As that coastline became larger, I thanked my cousin for this incredible experience, and commented that I know he gets to do this whenever he wants (suggesting our elated reactions must seem excessive). But he smiled and said while that may be true, he still appreciates the thrill of being out here! I guess I knew that already but hearing it made the experience even more enjoyable for me!

A Decorated Wide Open Space

I shot this jaunty array of daisies just as the sun was setting on Conception Bay South, NL. Like a beautifully mismatched bouquet of flowers you'd pick for your kitchen table, it grows however it wants  along the top of the rolling expanse of beach rocks. 

They have the best view of Kelly's Island and the Bell Islands and the gulls that soar above them all. They can sway romantically in the evening summer breeze as they watch the sunset tinting the clouds a lemonade pink. They also have prime seating for the whale show that is on display this time of year that we were lucky enough to witness. It was neat to see this many whales sliding up out of the water at such close range... you could even hear them exhaling as they surfaced! It was an awe-inspiring display. And while I didn't have the right camera to capture the whales, I was able to capture a few flowers to remind me of how peaceful it was on the beach that night.

In the Middle of Somewhere

Labrador City is situated in the middle of this Google Map satellite image.

Growing up, there was never any concern about the religious beliefs of foreign countries, the possibility that a quiet twenty-something might take his frustrations out on innocent people, or the threat of being assaulted on your way home from school. Feeling safe and secure weren't even identified as benefits because we didn't know anything else. We were just growing up and enjoying life. Aside from the very real threat of frostbite and the occasional black bear wandering into city limits, there wasn't much for us kids to be concerned about growing up in the mining community of Labrador City, NL.

We appreciated the pristine, natural world that stretched out endlessly beyond our town boundaries and sought many of our leisure activities within: hiking, cross-country skiing, camping, skidooing, fishing... We instinctively took care of that massive expanse of spruce and rock and water long before it was socially and environmentally correct to do so.

But just as we respected the dry, frigid temperatures in winter and the relentless black flies in summer, we respected the power of fire. When your whole world is a 40 square kilometre settlement tucked within 295 square kilometres of forest, you tend to respect such natural threats.

I remember the impact a distant raging forest fire had on our community. I suppose it would be similar to those who live in other areas similarly at nature's mercy - the threat of flood waters drowning your world or of earthquakes shaking it to pieces. My Labrador City world was never devoured by fire, but it frequently knocked on our door, letting us know it was there, reminding us of its potential. I remember people in nearby communities being evacuated, and others refusing to accept such an order, opting instead to remain tenaciously aboard their ship, coating it with a steady stream of protective water from their garden hose. I know people who have lost cabins, Newfoundland's word for cottage, a universal family refuge from responsibility-laden houses and time-dependant routines.

There is a fire raging in Labrador right now, close to town. Labrador City's neighbouring community of Wabush was recently ordered to evacuate due not to the threat of being incinerated, but to the poor, smoke-infested quality of their air. Like any event that necessitates an evacuation, those residents in the safe zones opened up their houses, churches, and cultural establishments to the ones displaced. It's a tense, uncomfortable, unsettling situation, but one that illustrates the generosity of neighbours.

Nature's fury imposes her will all the time, anywhere she chooses, as powerfully and as relentlessly as she chooses. It's a common story populating the newsfeeds and Twittersphere. But when she threatens the very place where you innocently spent the first twenty years of your life, you pay close attention. You feel the trepidation of its current residents, even at 2000 kilometres away. You can picture the pillows of smoke that smother the clean blue sky and flow past their television screens on the local news. You can smell the burning wood and moss and lichen and you remember that a dampened version of that smell will linger eerily along the highway for weeks after it has been extinguished.

One can only hope that temporarily poisoning the town's air is as far as the fire's assault reaches in Wabush. At last review, residents were permitted to return to their homes even as the fire continues to burn and the potential for another evacuation order remains. Even so, I imagine there is a wave of relief to return to their unscathed homes. Because regardless of how long you've been away from your home, you never forget what it looked like the day you left.

What home would have looked like the day I left twenty years ago.

 I made a calendar of some of my favourite NYC street photography to hang at my cubicle at work. Most of the images are of everyday life: local people walking, cycling, sitting, shopping, and browsing. I do love being a tourist and I fully embrace my place when I'm there. But that doesn't stop me from trying to imagine what it might be like to live in such a vivacious, eclectic city and wake up every morning with so many options!

The image above made the cut. I specifically chose this one for my birthday month because I love being around art, whether historically impressive or passionately personal. There's something comforting and relaxing about wandering among creatively adorned easels in an open air art exhibit, and this one in Union Square was an unexpected treat while exploring the city in April.

I think birthdays should be a celebration of oneself, to unabashedly indulge in whatever excites and amuses and pleases. It's a day to be embraced and perhaps buy special treats and flowers and whatever else would make the day special. I don't think it just happens without a little preparation and I don't think someone else should be on the hook to provide it. And it should not be overlooked.

Here are some more ideals I feel like sharing in my way on my day:

 

Former site of Dani's Bistro, St. Paul Street, St. Catharines

Try out new eateries.

                             

Antique Wooden Escalator ascending lower floor of Macy's - 34th Street, Manhattan

Take the easy way up if it's more interesting.

Spotted in a shop window near Union Square, Manhattan

Smile.

Flatiron District, Manhattan

Opt for the balcony whenever you can.

Spotted affixed to a lamppost in Manhattan

Say it in your own way.

Signal Hill National HIstoric Site

Allow yourself to be swept away.

Water Street - St. John's NL

Accept yourself for all that you are.

St. John's, NL with The Rooms in the background

Be intrigued by the juxtaposition of styles.

Rainbow Bridge, Niagara Falls

Always have good music in your vehicle.

And remember:

Spotted along the Harbourfront - St. John's, NL

(no caption required!)

Cheers!

Christine



View from Quidi Vidi Brewing Co.

Newfoundland and Labrador

Quidi Vidi itself is a charming, picturesque village that persuades her visitors to park their vehicles and get out and walk. Perched at the edge of the ocean, the clean green wood-sided brewhouse is hard to miss, and should not be missed for all of its own charms:

Cold craft beer arousing your tastebuds with its complex and refreshingly unique flavour. Spirited music weaving its way around the room that touches the walls with a caress one minute, and a pounding the next. Fabulous scenery that seduces one to succumb to its rugged perfection with an extended, dreamy gaze. Each facet of the experience bursting with a homegrown and unique flavour. Each one quenching a thirst in its own way.

During the day, this space beckons beer afficionados to wander its halls lovingly saturated with the pungent aroma of fermenting ales. This is how I experienced the establishment, as seen above: quiet and unassuming with little evidence of theatrical social stimulation. However, one only needs to spy the addition of a modestly furnished stage with the abundance of beer in this space to imagine an alter-ego of typical Newfoundland merriment! Calm before the storm.

Outside, the sunlight bathes the craggy hillside as the fringes of the ocean lap gently along the perimeter. However, one only needs to survey the condition of the rickety blue structure near the mouth of the harbour to imagine the potential for a wet and windy onslaught of typical Newfoundland fury! Calm before the storm.

The brewery produces a satisfying variety of beer crafted using only the essential ingredients. Visit: www.quidividibrewery.ca or go there for real!

The Rooms - St. John's

Newfoundland and Labrador

Located in the heart of St. John's, The Rooms is one hulk of a building, dwarfing nearly every structure along the upper rim of its sprawling and colourful cityscape. I've heard some of the locals speak of it with disdain, complaining that it doesn't "fit" structurally or stylistically with the rest of the city's historic architecture. Okay, what they actually say is that it "sticks out like a sore tum"! 

Granted, it does command your attention as you drink in the luscious view from atop Signal Hill. And yes, it's a simple, triangular design, devoid of the details and intricacies that embellish so many of the other buildings in this 500+ year old city.

But, I discovered that it has its charms. If its simplicity doesn't echo its neighbouring historic buildings, it does seem to fit right in with the jutted rocks and cliffs that abound in the city. Its placement certainly does afford some of the best views of the mouth of the harbour and Signal Hill. I found it quite magical to stand before those massive windows at night and look out at all the light-studded hills. And when I was granted a free afternoon to make my way up Garrison Hill and meander around the property and slide along its smooth facade, I developed a real appreciation for the architectural cleverness. The mirrored planes are angled in such a way that the reflections are playfully distorted and bold.

I imagine since its doors first opened seven years ago, it's become a prominent structure in St. John's, recognisable to both locals and visitors alike. It still sticks out, but it's more of a thumbs up.

To learn more about this all-encompassing celebration of everything cultural, visit: http://www.therooms.ca/

Cape Spear, Newfoundland

I have navigated the barren mass of rock and grass that blankets Canada's most easterly point many times, but it's always been from the predictable and secure path of the boardwalk, Perched safely removed from the Atlantic Ocean's precarious activity, it is still an awesome view of an uninhibited natural setting . And with two small, fearless children to govern, predetermined safety is a desireable quality! I assumed this responsibility so obviously, as parents tend to do, that it didn't even occur to me to venture beyond the wooden railing.

But if you look across the middle of this photograph, you may discern a jaunty pathway that appears to be protected by a railing. During my visit this spring, I secured the opportunity to visit Cape Spear with my one son, who is now old enough to understand the capricious nature of the ocean and respect its potential force. It became less about keeping two curious little sets of feet away from danger, and more about exploring the craggy skirt of the cape. There was a trail where we hiked, but there were no barriers. It was safe, but you still had to step with so as to avoid being tripped by a delinquent branch  I was excited to be able to get a refreshing view of a familiar location, and he was thrilled to be given the trust and freedom to go somewhere a little more extreme. Plus he was getting to go somewhere that his little brother hadn't so I'm sure he thought that was cool!

Cape Spear, Newfoundland

Here it is folks: our proud flag standing on the spot that ushers in Canada Day first!

Cheers!

Conception Bay South, Newfoundland

This is what does it for me.

Yes, I do fall under the spell of the precipitous boundaries of the coastal cliffs, with all of its charismatic and raw beauty, its unapologetic roughness, and its savoury, sprawling vistas. I revel in its gritty soundtrack of the screeches of gulls and the zigzagging of fiddle bows. I love to sink into my Dad's comfy chair as I feel the weight of everyday responsibilities and considerations lifted from my weary shoulders. Newfoundland provides the refuge that I need, in many immeasurable ways.  

But beaches such as this one at Foxtrap in Conception Bay South is what tugs at my heart and makes me long to go back. I love to stand on this rippled expanse of land, pleasantly populated with impossibly smooth rocks that are rendered even more charming from being repetitively varnished by the ocean's touch. When I look at any photograph that I've taken while there, I can smell the briny air - comprised of the salt spray from the Atlantic, the aroma of ocean castoffs baking on the rocks, and the richness of seaweed and other marine vegetation being basted by the water.

My favourite kind of beach rock is one such as what you see in the exact middle of the photo below, the ones that appear greenish with alternating rings of grey.

I think every time I am there, I swipe a few rocks to add to my landlocked existence. I am amazed at how they always seem to retain the smell of their salt water home, no matter how many times I slide them around in my palm. And sometimes I run one under some water to replicate that shine... just for old time's sake.

A starfish hanging on a lobster trap on the beach at Chapel's Cove, NL

Sometimes I think I'm hanging on to my sanity with every ounce of strength in my grip!! Those are days when I'm late for work again, I succumbed to the call of birthday treats at the kitchenette, and I have no idea what I'm going to make for supper. But at the end of the day, I am content and tranquil... I focus on the way I spent the time to calm down my nervous child instead of rushing out the door, I only had one chocolate pecan square when years ago I would have polished off five, and I managed to put together a spaghettini dish that everybody enjoyed together at the table amidst hearty laughter and spirited discussion.



I have a tendancy to store only good memories in my cranial filing cabinet - which almost certainly do exist in every interaction and every situation, as long as you allow yourself to see them. And when an open slate day could potentially be long, stressful, and dissatisfying, I still strive to make it good in spite of itself. And when I'm in that frame of mind, it almost always happens. Then I realise there were more good hours than taxing hours, and I was in the moment instead of longing for something else. I feel like I'm just hanging out, letting time just tick along on its merry way, and feeling the pressures from the week just drain off, because on a long weekend such as this, I have nowhere else to be, and no fixed agenda, and my to do list was rubbed off the whiteboard. (literally... my six year old did that!) It's all good.

My beautiful Aunt Claudia was all about the good things in life. She was the type of person who always set out her most elegant table settings for a special occasion... like for example an overcast Tuesday afternoon in May. This is because her regular, every day table settings were elegant, and every single day was considered a special occasion. A simple lunch for visiting family included homemade pastries, freshly prepared salad with crisp lettuce and a selection of dressings, including Russian, for those guests who happen to enjoy Russian dressing. Even when I was very young and perhaps didn't fully appreciate the details, I always felt special when I sat down at her table, as if I were as important as any guest she'd ever had join her there.

Everything about my aunt was quality and class, but she was also incredibly genuine and down to earth. She valued her friends, many of whom she had retained since her childhood school days, and strived to keep in touch with them often. She never skimped on the important details, but she never seemed bothered if something didn't work out as planned or if cranberry juice were spilled on the tablecloth.

Still, I always remember feeling as if I ought to remember my manners a little more acutely while I was there. Boldly patterned walls and curtains, plush, pristine carpeting, and a grand piano contributed to a home that just seemed to command respect. Exquisite art adorned every room, including original paintings by my grandmother and by my Dad (her brother), and prints created by her childhood friend, Christopher Pratt and Mary Pratt as well.

One of my favourite memories took place in June of 2006 when Aunt Claudia invited my Dad and me to attend an opening of Christopher Pratt's exhibit at The Rooms Provincial Art Gallery. During the reception, she purchased two copies of the artist's most recent collection of work, and handed one of them to me with a smile but without explanation, as if she just knew how much I would have loved to have it.

I greatly enjoyed the relationship I shared with my aunt; I've always felt like we shared a love of culture, words and art. My entire life, I spent at most two weeks out of the year in the same city as her but those visits helped shape who I am as a Newfoundlander. I can't say Pippy Park, Duckworth Street, or Quidi Vidi (either pronunciation) without hearing her own voice speaking these place names. Whether we were visiting with her and my Uncle Frank at their home in St. John's, or out at their cabin in Manuels, Conception Bay South, where the two photographs I've posted here were taken, we were always treated to a scrumptious meal and spirited conversation, with lots of compliments, lots of hugging, and lots of love.

Claudia O'Connor 1935-2012

Fence between The Kirk and The Rooms

Harvey Road, St. John's, NL

Every morning upon awakening, Mr. Lister would shudder at the thought of the task awaiting his attention in the back yard. Burdened with undesireable responsibility, he sulked in his morning shower, rolled his eyes at his dilatory reflection in the mirrored medicine cabinet, and wrung his hands as he puttered down the hall towards the kitchen. He purposely left his faded yellow curtains drawn so that he was not immediately reminded. But his intentions were futile: the neglected task was all but screaming into his hairy ears because he could think of nothing else.

"Paint me! Paint me!! PAINT ME!!!"

When he had acquired his modest but cozy bungalow a few years back, he thought nothing of the abandoned steel fence that spanned the width of his property, tenaciously retaining its bordering function, as archaic and rusted as his own spirit. He decided that the interior of the house provided sufficient coverage from the ravaging Newfoundland climate... a place to watch television, a place to assemble a sandwich, a place to lay his head... it had everything he needed! He had no intentions of ever penetrating the backyard anyway.

But over time, its posture became more evident. He began to see those ruddy posts waving at him, taunting him like every other task he chose to ignore since he retired four years ago. He had become a crabby, lonely replica of the man he used to be, and with nobody in his life to keep him in check, he just accepted whatever mood befell him on any given day.

But then, his self-depreciating attention was kidnapped by the stunningly sweet lady who moved into the old Marsden place next door. He didn't think anyone would ever move in there, much less a witty, capable widow with a zest for life and a flare for landscaping. She introduced herself as Arianna as she deftly trimmed away the overgrown yews that divided her property with his. He would step out onto his porch for his newspaper and find himself lingering in anticipation of a wave or a greeting. His quick darts into the dewy mornings became longer and longer such that he would actually engage her in conversation. Over time, his eyebrows began to lift and the little crook that had been wedged between his eyes had all but disappeared.

He decided that he wanted to brighten up his home and brought in some of the daisies that were growing along his yard, persisting every summer in spite of his grumbling and ignorance. Finally, he wanted to enjoy their abundance and share in their cheerfulness. He was preparing to invite Arianna over for a coffee. He surveyed his humble kitchen and decided that it was acceptable, especially with the happy bunch of flowers perched in a vase in the middle of the table. 

And so it came that on one particularly sunny morning, he unwittingly threw open his kitchen curtains and he saw that which he had been avoiding so feverishly. But it didn't stir up disdain, it created a feeling that had been hibernating for so long that it almost jolted him with its intensity: he felt motivation! He no longer wanted to avoid the onerous task, he wanted to tackle the job and feel satisfaction. And he wanted to see a bold red fence waving at him from his backyard upon awakening every single morning, as quirky and charismatic as his new appreciation for his address... and for life. And so he knew just what he had to do: Paint it.

A Vine Weevil checking out Signal Hill

St. John's, Newfoundland

When I contemplate summer's flame flickering its final breaths of vitality, I realise there are two aspects of this occurence that saddens me. And only two: the hibernation of my pedicure and the demise of the bug community.

I don't think I have to elaborate on the first item in any great detail..donning airy footwear that doesn't pinch at the backs of my heels or smother my painted toes continues to be one of summer's great carefree benefits. And I do miss it when I have to envelop my tootsies in cotton and thrust them into rigid walls of leather until springtime.

The second aspect of summer's end affects me pretty significantly, albeit somewhat indirectly. I personally do not have an affinity for six legged creatures.. I can coexist with them but I don't necessarily need to know they exist. I don't want them to feast on my appendages nor do I desire to share my home with them. I appreciate their quiet tendancies as well as the fact that they are two legs short of an arachnid.. but their absence has never caused a void in my life.

Then I had kids. My fourth grader is and always has been one with the bugs: Bug Lover, Bug Hunter, Bug Protector... his title evolves as he grows. And being incessantly curious and enthralled about the little beings, the onslaught of winter induces aggravating, endless, persistant boredom! Without day to day participation in the activities of nature's smallest tennants, he has minimal desire to venture outdoors at all. "But Mom.. there's no nature in winter!!!" he stresses.

Which induces aggravation for me, being vehemently enthralled about winter and all!!!

I admit I feel excited when I spot something that one just doesn't see every day.. even if it is vicariously. My son is proud to remind me that this phenomenon now even extends to spiders! (I'm proud of that as well but I still don't intend to allow one to graze my skin or clothing!) I will call him over upon discovering something crawling along a wall or fence. I'm excited about his passion, even when we are knee-deep in intermission. 

I consulted with him to obtain the name of the little guy, above, puttering along the rock wall that surrounds the Cabot Tower in Newfoundland! My son loves it when he gets to teach me things, and I think he's pleased to have been instrumental in today's posting because without identification, it would still be tucked away in my Drafts.

When on vacation...

One should always block off time in an itinerary to explore the view from the water in your host city (if such an option exists, of course!) Whether it's an intentional touring event that provides a knowledgable, narrated, and sometimes spirited explanation of the various highlights and notorious stories that flavour the city, or simply an alternate, fluid mode of transportation, it is worth the effort! Even if you aren't on the water, sometimes all you need to do is drive around the harbour and voila.. a skyline!

Similar to contemplating an oil painting, standing back and drinking in the view from afar allows you to appreciate the amalgamation of what makes it great! The towering (or sometimes colourfully modest) assembly of buildings that makes up a skyline is sometimes one of the most recognisable and revered images that can be captured of a city (I believe that it ranks right up there with the view from the highest observatory.. ooh I smell another post idea!!). Drifting along its perimeter, through its veins, or right under its arched connectors, one is granted insight into a different aspect of a city's personality, one that compliments what you see as you stand right on the doorsteps at street level and slide your gaze upwards.

I was thinking about this recently, and I realised that I have done the water view in some of the largest cities in North America. And I will do it again.. each and every time such an option exists.

Architectural Tour

Chicago

Duck Tour

Boston

Staten Island Ferry

Manhattan

Rented Powerboat

Toronto

Southside Road

St. John's

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

The pull of the ocean.

Chapel's Cove, Newfoundland

June 2011

Something magical happens at the ocean's fringe. You feel its pull and its monumental strength, even as your feet remain dry. Common knowledge is burnished away.. you struggle to recite everyday facts such as your address or the current day of the week. Such details matter little here. You brain becomes refreshingly aired out, allowing your thoughts to flow freely in and out of your mind as opposed to taking up valuable cerebral real estate. Your breath is drawn in deeper and your eyes are focusing on the horizon or not at all. It's just a blissful state in which to be immersed. The only questions on your mind are 'how far can you throw'.... who can hit that block of driftwood first'.... 'how many waves come in between the really big ones?'.... (by the way, the consensus is seven)

It always intrigues me how content and occupied my boys are while standing upon a Newfoundland beach - far removed from the familiar faces of their peers and the usual double screened electronic stimulants. This is part of the marine magic I mentioned a few lines back. It is relieving not only to see them enjoying themselves in such a natural and unrestricted, undefined environment, but to learn that such a phenomenon is even possible. (Okay I exaggerate a little, but it is still wholly and genuinely refreshing!!)

The beach in this photo is the only sandy beach I think we've visited.. at least in a long time. The ones near my parents' home in Conception Bay are abundantly occupied by orbed geological inhabitants of varying shades of grey and copper = lots of rocks, no visible sand. I think this granular expanse was a bit of a treat for us all because any discoveries of beached beings were readily visible and easily retrievable. A large yellow bucket became a secure tote for green nubby shards of sea urchins, perpetually positioned starfish, and salmon-hued crab legs either orphaned or still attached to a shell body. It was a cornucopia of irresistable maritime trinkets that would eventually make the three hour flight to Niagara, surprisingly intact, and occupy a prominent space on a family bookshelf.. just a few steps away from the equally entertaining electronic stimulants.

Once Upon a Wine Vault

On the road to Fort Amherst, along the 'other side of the harbour', far below those massive white Irving Oil orbs that I always see from Water Street, there are caves. I counted at least eight of them along the route, unassumingly nestled within the Southside Hills, all sealed up and padlocked and keeping their secrets to themselves. A cave such as the one pictured above would no doubt have quite the flavourful collection of yarns to spin if it could: as the story goes, these caves served as storage for port wine cargo from ships that had been steered off course by pirates back in the 1600's!!

And as romantic and adventurous as it sounds to imagine getting past those derelict, haunting entrances, each one with its own personality, I'm not sure that I would ever have the nerve to venture in, if given the opportunity! But it doesn't matter because one cannot access the halls of these caves. 

But you can get inside The Newman Wine Vaults, located across the harbour on historic, eclectic Water Street. Reportedly among the oldest buildings still standing in St John's, the vault's curved ceilings also looked down upon large batches of port wine. Port was regularly shipped over from Portugal specifically for storage back in the 1800's, and was carried through these doors regularly for years. Now the building is protected and cherished as a Provincial Historic Site, retaining its historic interior but enclosed in a more modern, but stylistically aligned exterior. And it continues to store Newman's Port wine except now it is not stored merely awaiting a return shipment to Europe; it is stored as it awaits individual local purchase, often for immediate consumption!

I was fortunate enough to savour some of this sweet crimson wine for my very own palate when I joined the audience of an intimate and spell-binding evening with The Once. I originally wasn't familiar with the group, but knowing the friends who had invited me to go, it promised to be at the very least, an intriguing evening! But it was kilometres ahead of my expectations. This local folk trio is some of the most unassuming, genuine talent I've ever encountered.. in concert or not.

Andrew, Geraldine, and Phil assembled at the front of the room and instantly commanded the attention of the delightfully modest audience with their authentic instruments, melodic mastery, and vividly haunting lyrics, some original, some traditional. They even weaved a few Leonard Cohen tunes with exquisitely crafted arrangements paying fine homage to songs that have seen more than a few covers over the years.

I remember sitting in that rustic environment, the heels of my boots working their way into the crushed stone flooring as my feet unwittingly tapped away to the beat of the bodhrán, and thinking that a Newfoundland musical experience couldn't get much better than this. Every facet of our environment - the exclusively candlelit lighting, the acoustic and frequent a capella song treatments, the raw brick and stone walls - was wonderfully woven together creating a magic that was only surpassed by the razor sharp harmonies of the performers. Geraldine's lead voice was unbelievably pure, with a delivery that ranged from soft and delicate to fierce and insistent, effectively evoking the range of emotions that is inherently characteristic of Newfoundland music.

But I think the coolest part of the show occured during the performance of one of their own songs, Sail Away to the Sea. Shortly after Geraldine began conveying the lyrics, I began to hear echoes of her words flowing around me. The majority of the audience had obviously heard the song once or twice before and were very much enjoying hearing it performed in their presence. Now I know that it's not unique to be sitting in an audience and hear everyone singing along with the musicians. But it was the band's reaction that blew me away..  these guys were sincerely and utterly enthralled by the treatment...  almost surprised by it! It was, as one of my friends commented, almost as if they were just now realising that they've made it. I wouldn't doubt that everyone else in that dimly lit room knew it too. Artistry as honest as this, and as deeply rooted in Newfoundland as the wine caves in the Southside Hills is real and relevant and deserves to be shared and revered and performed again and again. But you don't have to take my word for it... check them out, and if you have the opportunity to see them live, anywhere, don't hesitate to venture in.

http://www.myspace.com/nowtheonce