Why I'm still in love with Newfoundland

Two years ago I wrote a blog about 19 Things I wish I’d known about moving to Newfoundland. The response was overwhelming. Every so often I go back and read that list. Do I stand by those? For the most part. However, I’ve gotten to know this province much better. I like to think I'm over the “honeymoon stage.”

I love this land. Every morning I wake up and can’t believe it’s my home. It might have something to do with the view from my living room, but I think it’s more than that. I walk through the woods and feel a sense of security that I often crave. I stand by the ocean when I’m not okay and breathe in the salty air. I watch the waves crash against the shore and draw a strange sort of strength from the thundering sound.

Sometimes I go to Signal Hill and laugh at myself as I look for “Sex” written in the twinkling lights. I always hunt for my old apartment and think about my year living downtown. A year where I soaked in the music, food, and drained my bank account.

Every Saturday of the tourist season I sit in the waterShed and drink my favourite coffee and drive the staff crazy with endless chatter.

But that’s seeing the province through rose coloured glasses. My roommate moved out this month, and the thought of paying all my bills makes me feel sick in my stomach because it will mean taking money from my emergency fund. Even if it's only something I have to do for one month, it's taking away from another time I'll probably need it more. Each time I touch the thermostat, my mind drifts to what it will cost me next year when the rate hikes kick in.

When I gas up my car, I cringe and remind myself to do as many things as I can in town so I don’t have to waste gas on a trip back. My variable mortgage makes me stay up at night and I wonder why in the world my mortgage broker told me it was a good idea.

My twitter feed is filled with people talking about leaving. I read the articles about the state we’re in. They’re void of hope-- but I make myself read them because I want to be realistic. With every single friend I make, I remind myself not to get too attached, because they might leave like most of those who did this summer.

I don’t go downtown or eat out like I used to. When I buy food from a restaurant now, it’s usually using money out of a toonie jar I’ve set aside. In the last month I’ve gotten into the habit of buying a loaf of bread for PB&J sandwiches at work, and massive amounts of chicken at Costco, so I can cook for the week at cheap prices. It's not that I can't afford anything else, it's that I know worse times might be coming.

In fact, I messaged someone last night and asked them if they ever go really worried about becoming a homeowner in a time that people say we should leave. They talked sense into me. They’re a loyal Newfoundlander, and have far more ties to this land than I do, but they made their point.

It’s an island of fighters. People who made it work even though all the odds are against us. Maybe that’s why I love it.

And you know what? I’m lucky. I have a steady employment that I believe will last. I’m getting raises each year. The fact that I was able to get a house at my age is a bloody miracle. I am by no means poor, and I definitely still splurge on things and treats I love, but don't need, like ice-cream, and gifts for people I love.

Still, doubt creeps in. Why stay? Why stay on an isolated island where I give up things I could easily get on the Mainland for much cheaper? Why stay when getting off this island costs so much more than anywhere else. (I used to get in my car and drive to Montreal  for less than a ticket to Halifax.)

And the answer is simply because I can and because I love it. I realize that many my age don’t have a job like mine, and if they do, it’s not what they want to be doing. I understand why they do and will leave. I'll never judge their decisions.

Newfoundland is where I was diagnosed and given help. A family doctor is different to find in Nova Scotia. I had one here as soon as I started looking. It’s the place I feel safe in. Newfoundland gave me Jean.

It’s the place where I walk the streets and smile because the brightly coloured houses cheer me up in the fog and rain. It’s the place that taught me not to let the weather keep me from going out. It’s the place that taught me how to budget. It’s the place I found friends who would open my mind to more ideas.

It’s the place I most recently learned how to be myself. For three years, inch by inch, I’ve been figuring out who I am. When I got scared of who that was, I’d run to the ocean or The Shoe and try and come to terms with it. It’s been tough, and hard, and filled with pain. But you know what? On Sunday evening someone said to me:

“You’re so honest and open now, Kris.”

Maybe those rose coloured glasses are still on. Maybe in five years I won’t be able to financially swing it and instead of a honeymoon, there will be a divorce. Who really knows?

All I know is that right now, I plan to love and live in this land for the long haul.

I’m grateful to be here.

19 things I would have told myself about moving to Newfoundland

When I was thinking about moving to Newfoundland, I read things on the internet, asked people with connections to the province what they could tell me, and (don’t judge me) watched a lot of Republic of Doyle. I knew it was kind of like a jump in the dark. I knew why I wanted to move here, but I knew it was kind of crazy because I hadn’t visited in 10 years. So, what I’ve compiled is a list of things I would have told myself about moving to Newfoundland, if the information had been available.

1. It’s not for the faint of heart:

My sister told me this when I was preparing to move, and I’ve learned that it was a true statement when it applied to the weather, travel off the island, potholes, or just about anything you can imagine. I think about that advice all the time. It's not an easy place to live. It's so much more than the happy to go lucky place people say it is. It has dark times, and rough days. The politics are hilarious.  But you should try to get to know it with everything you have.

2. You will see local celebrities all the time, but no-one will make a big deal out of it:

Mark Critch downtown with his girlfriend? No big deal. Alan Doyle buying coffee at The Rocket? Who cares. Republic of Doyle actors? They run for politics. Musicians? Say hi after the show. Artists? Chat away. World famous chefs? Just say hi. Journalists and talk show hosts? Just pretend you’re not a fan girl. Bob Hallet? He might end up sitting at the table next to you in his restaurant. 

I’ve seen so many people I admire and respect. At first I fangirled, but now I try and remain calm on the outside. Newfoundland supports their talented, but they don’t fuss. It’s awesome.

3. It’s worth going to the outports:

I know I talk about Petty Harbour a lot—but hey, I lived there. It’s my Pictou of Newfoundland. But I’ve been out to Brigus, Burlington, and a few others and they are amazing. The people are welcoming, the views are second to none, and they hold something special that you won’t find in St. John’s.

4. Moose are a real danger:

You know all the Canada and Moose jokes? They are because of Newfoundland. You won’t see them a lot, but you will learn to be scared of hitting one. You will avoid the highway after dark. You will consider purchasing higher insurance in case you hit one. You will warn mainlanders about them. They won't listen. You will get slightly offended at the moose jokes when you go home. Get over it. 

5. Your taste buds will be opened to a whole new world:

Alex's Kitchen is one of my favourite places to eat.

I loved food before I moved to Newfoundland, but St. John’s has opened so many doors. If you live here for any amount of time, you will boast about Raymond’s being the best restaurant in Canada, but that’s not where it ends. The Merchant Tavern, Adelaide Oyster House, The Sprout, Tavola, and so much more will leave you wishing that you were a millionaire. Read the reviews and talk to the locals. Try toutons. Eat seal. Give moose a chance. Be willing to give every place at least one chance because the food is downright mind blowing. My wallet cannot handle it. Which brings me to…

6. It’s even more expensive than you think:

Rent? Heat? Food? It all costs more than the internet tells you. It’s going to be really hard to make ends meet as a single person. Not because you have a bad job, but because making it on your own in a city with debt, good food, and limited self control is tough. Save your money to get off the island because sometimes homesickness will hit so bad you will need to get home no matter what. Fresh vegetables will become a luxury in the winter, so learn where to buy them. Support the Farmer's Market as much as possible, but when it shuts down Costco will probably be your best bet for fresh food. 

7. It’s even more beautiful than the pictures:

It really is. You will never get used to the rugged land and the sound of crashing waves. You will actually be moved when you go out on the East Coast Trail. The locals aren’t as amazed over icebergs, but they are worth freaking out about. Don’t always take your camera. Enjoy it. Remember it. Love it.

8. You have to get used to being an outsider:

You know how Newfoundland is known for its amazing people? It’s true they are friendly, but it’s going to be different than when you visit for a short time. When you move to Newfoundland you need to get used to being called a CFA, you need to get used to being called a Mainlander, and you will need to learn that they have tight-knit culture that can be hard to break into. Thing is, it will be what you make it. Yes it will be hard, but accept that you’re an outsider for now, and learn everything you can about the island in the meantime.

9. Listen to Open Line, Back Talk and Night Line :

This will be your resource for the culture and the beat of the province. Anybody and everybody calls in, but it’s an amazing part of Newfoundland. Don’t laugh at it (Okay, you can sometimes.) Just appreciate the open forum for people to call. Call in sometime. It’s fun.

10. People drink. A lot:

It’s a part of the culture. It’s nothing like people who drink in your hometown. They get drunk at work events, on weekends, and sometimes in between. But it’s different than on the mainland. They can hold their own. It’s where they sing and dance. Appreciate it as part of Newfoundland. When people from the mainland ask you if there is a drinking problem on the Island, try not to be offended, because they don't live here and they won't get it. 

11. You will have a lot of coffee options:

Every kind of roast is available. You will find yourself disliking Tim Hortons. Don’t turn your nose up at it, though. You will learn to appreciate every shop for different reasons. Try them all. Give them second chances when you have a bad cup of coffee the first time. The Watershed has the best view. Fixed can make a mean cup of coffee. Rocket staff will learn your order. Jumping Bean has the best lattes. Coffee Matters is open the latest if you need a place to work that's not inside the confines of your apartment. 

12. Music is a big deal:

There will be music everywhere. Go see the people you want to see. Don’t fangirl. Buy as much as you can from Fred’s Records. They can order it in if they don’t have it. Go downtown in the middle of the day and listen. Go downtown late at night and watch the couples dancing to "Sonny’s Dream" at O’Reilly’s. People might laugh at you if you think GBS is the best thing ever. They’re just a fraction of the talent here. Support local music in every way you can. 

 13. Forget everything you know about fog and wind, because Newfoundland has them on levels only people who live here will understand. 

People will tell you that they have fog and wind too. Just smile and nod. They do not understand that airports shut down for days. They do not understand that the wind at Cape Spear is the norm. When people tell you that they understand, just carry on. 

14. Get on Twitter:

Follow people. They have lively conversations. If you see them in person, remember you don’t actually know them. Drop in a comment or two, but don't feel offended if they don't respond. Kim will talk to you about Open Line. James is snarky about politics. Ro! has a heartbreaking story, but she has a lot of courage. Melissa is funny. Drew writes good stuff. Jessica talks about yummy stuff. Maggie will make you feel included. 

15. Go to Bell Island:

It might make you seasick to take the ferry, but it’s very cool. Climb the lighthouse, see the mines, and visit the convenience store.

16. Don’t forget about Labrador:

They are a part of Newfoundland too. Listen to them. Remember they are as important as St. John’s. It's Newfoundand and Labrador, not just Newfoundland.

17. Shop downtown:

I know, you should shop local everywhere. But most things you need are downtown, and a lot of it isn’t much more expensive. Go to Johnny Ruth and Living Planet, Home on Water Street, Twisted Sister, and Travel. It’s worth the hassle of parking. There is free parking at Atlantic Place on weekends. 

18. It’s not what you see in the tourist ads:

There is more to the place than Signal Hill and Cape Spear. Explore the little-known places. Climb Engine Rock. Blueberry pick in the Goulds. Visit Middle Cove Beach in the Winter. Find a place no-one knows about.

19. You will appreciate it more than you thought possible:

You might feel homesick 9 days out of 10, but you will get through the worst nights. You will fall in love with the landscape and people. It’s going to be okay.

Christmas in the Harbour

Today started like my typical Saturday in St. John’s. I woke up and got ready to head to The Watershed. But today wasn’t like most days in the tiny town just outside the city.  It was Christmas in the Harbour. You noticed the difference as soon as you drove around the point and towards the corner store. Lights were up, snow was piled high, and there was an air of excitement in the place.

The event is a collective effort from the town. Local art, food, and friendliness is showcased all in the name of the Christmas spirit and hometown love. I was excited to be a part of it, and started my tour off in my favourite way—with a hot cup of coffee and a sandwich served by some of my favourite people.

My favourite seat had been taken by someone who clearly hadn’t slept in like me, so I sat in one of my favourite seats in the back of the café. It was busier than normal. Locals were coming in with flyers and more townies than usual were ordering eggnog lattes and coffee for the cold morning. I was excited to see it busy. Nothing makes me happier than people realizing that it’s worth the drive to go to The Watershed.

After chatting with Karen and the others I headed off to walk around town to see what else would be showcased.

My first stop was at a little shed right next to the coffee shop. It was filled with paintings that captured the feel of Petty Harbour. The crab pots in the spring, the stunning sky in the summer, and the boats you come to love so well.

I chatted with the artist and his friend for a little while. They asked about where I came from, and I learned that she had come here for work some years ago for two weeks, but ended up never leaving. She’s been living in the Petty Harbour ever since.

I learned about the artist who was planning to open his studio in the summer, I saw some of his sketches, and left knowing I would be back to purchase one.

The next stop was at the home of a “CFA.” She’d only been in the harbour for a few weeks, but been an artist for years. She loves the fresh air, birds, and making sure her dogs are happy. She is a blunt woman. Speaking exactly what she thinks. We talked about her time at NSCAD and how it had opened her up to a world of new ideas.

She told me that whatever work I’d done in Nova Scotia, I had to do here. I loved her artwork and crafts, and I loved her honesty, but she didn’t want me to take any pictures. I left with a lot of things to think about.

I walked across the bridge and stopped for the obligatory “from the bridge” photo. I saw Bernard out shoveling snow from the home of Harbour House. My first ever apartment. One of my favourite places on earth. We chatted for a little bit, and then said our goodbyes. We’d see each other next week at dinner with him, Shelley, and Jean.

Herbie's Shoppe was the next place on my list. A store filled with history and charm. They served me cookies and chatted. I fell in love with a bright red hat. One of the owners proudly showed Pam Chafe’s paintings that were hanging in the store. The shoppers were chatty—they discussed the snow, the local work, old age pension, and the government. I listened more than anything. I was part of all of all the wonderful, but it didn’t seem quite real.

I knew I didn’t have a whole lot of time, so I trudged through the snow and down to the Island Rooms where Leo was cooking fish stew. I’d been worried/excited to try the fish stew. I’d never liked a bowl of fish chowder in my life. However, I was determined to give it a try. I sat down with some townies, and we ate what was one of the best fish concoctions that I’ve ever tried.

We didn’t feel like strangers in that moment. We felt like friends. We talked about the beauty of the Harbour and sat in that little shed just enjoying each other’s company.

It’s a tiny little town. A town I never would have guessed that I’d fall in love with. But as I had driven there that morning, I’d thought to myself how every single season I’d told myself it was the prettiest time to be there. Because I love Petty Harbour in the spring, I love Petty Harbour in the summer, I love Petty Harbour in the fall.

But then there is Petty Harbour in the snow and Petty Harbour with Christmas lights.

It’s special. It’s not too crowded, it takes work to explore, but the beauty is everywhere. The people still welcome you with open arms. It’s pure and utter awesome.

Because Petty Harbour is a not-so-secret but definitely wonderful world.  And I’m so thankful I get to experience it.

The Gathering

This weekend I heard a little girl ask her daddy what The Gathering meant. I listened, knowing what his answer would probably be, but wondering if he would tell her something different than I expected. The truth was that I was feeling like for the first time I understood what The Gathering meant: fire, food, music, beautiful people, and the spirit of Newfoundland. It could never be properly summed up, but the only words that come to mind when I describe it are "pure magic."

I had known about

The Gathering

for a year or so, but I didn't know what to expect. I'd looked at the Facebook page, and pictures on the internet, but I wasn't sure about anything other than that I was in for good music and food-- but what I experienced far exceeded my expectations.

Burlington, Newfoundland is located about 7 hours away from St. John's on the Baie Verte Peninsula. (

Thanks for correcting me, anonymous commenter! CFA mistake. :)

) Driving after dark is risky on this island because there is always a chance of a moose accident, so after work on Thursday, I hit the highway hoping to get there at a half decent hour. I arrived late at night with no idea where to go or what to do. Thankfully there was signs up all around the town, and some locals were still up and willing to point me in the right direction.

I made a couple of trips back and forth from my car to Tent City (The campground) preparing for what was sure to be a rainy night. I was nervous-- I'd never camped on my own before, and I had no idea what I was doing. Thankfully I'd bought a pop up tent that week, and within 10 minutes, I was in my tiny, but dry green tent and falling asleep with no idea what the next morning would bring.

I woke up early, rubbing my sleepy eyes and trying to remember where I was. Where did I go to the bathroom? Did they really have no facilities? How was I going to brush my teeth? I unzipped the tent and got out. I don't know how to convey the sight that was in front of me. A beautiful bay, puffy dark clouds, a huge number of tents, and a little town were all coming into focus. It took my breath away, and all worries about porta potties and running water were gone. 

Tent City

I stood there taking it all in, never wanting the moment to end, but my thoughts were interrupted by people passing by and saying "Good morning."

Every. Single. Person. It felt like home. My tent neighbor must have guessed I was new to the camping thing, and said the most wonderful thing I'd heard all morning: "Would you like a cup of coffee?" 

It was music to my ears, and I gratefully accepted. It was the perfect start to the perfect day.

Soon after, I headed to The Gathering grounds. Because the weather was unpredictable, I took my car and was glad for it when the clouds opened and the rain came pouring down on everyone. When I got out and walked down the lane towards the grounds, I couldn't stop the smile from sweeping across my face.

There it was. Nestled in the bay stood a lighthouse, a greenhouse, a stage, venders, and chef's tents that all made up an atmosphere that overflowed with excitement. 

Like I said, I'd googled many times over, trying to get a feel for what The Gathering was. I realized then that the reason I'd had such a hard time finding anything, was because no picture does it justice, and no words can explain what it's like.

 I mean, how do you explain about food that would make Karl Wells satisfied? How do you explain about what it's like to see the dedication put into it? The food was out of this world. From 12-5 with the premium pass, you could eat anything they were offering, no questions asked-- their only concern was that it would be enjoyed.

They didn't skimp. I'm no foodie, but all I could think was "WOW!"

You just went to the station where you wanted the food. Chicken? Seafood? Veggies? Cheese? You name it. You could try it all. But it wasn't just the food. It was the happy chatter of the people. It was the delighted laughs of children as they ran about. It was the gasps of amazement over the full moon, boats, and beautiful music.

It was being able to go to the swimming hole and swim in peace. It was about not having cell service and being able to get away from the city sounds for days on end. It was knowing that you were in the most beautiful place imaginable. It was about community.

The swimming hole.

Loving life

Signs everywhere

Because I was alone, it gave me the chance to observe everything happen without really being in the mix of things. I find crowds difficult, and more than anything I didn't want to have a panic attack like the one I'd had a few weeks ago. But this place was special-- the whole weekend I was very aware that there wasn't even a chance of that happening. I was nervous, but I also knew I was safe. I felt happy to wander off and explore the next town over. The sleepy little towns were welcoming, gorgeous, and I couldn't help but wonder about all their stories, and how each one came to be there.

Old and new, but all beautiful.

Pride without words.

Bayside.

But you know what was so amazing about it? The reason the entire festival came to be. Shaun Majumder is a well known Canadian comedian.  He is the mastermind behind the festival. From what I understand, he wants to promote tourism in small town Newfoundland and came up with an idea to bring his community together and benefit the small towns that are often forgotten. As he would remind us over the weekend-- every single cent we spent would go back into the communities. Not a percentage, not a set amount, every cent would help them.

He might be paid to be funny, but he could not have taken "giving back to the community" and "remember where you come from" more seriously. I left with so much respect for this man

And I can't tell you how much the town came together to make this work. The volunteers wore their orange shirts and walked around quickly, going to their stations and doing what needed to be done. They were hosting this festival, and they were going to do it well. The town hall cooked breakfast, the fire department set up a bar (no drinking on the grounds) and all throughout the town were little stands of locals selling food, goods, and so much more. Kids with big dreams, and adults ready to show off their culture.

"I'm saving for an American Doll!" She told me with an air of excitement and pride as she sold me lemonade and the best blueberry muffin ever.

There were tons of options during the day. You could go on a Brook Picnic with food from Raymond's (Voted best restaurant in Canada) sign up for a Chef's Hike, go kayaking, swimming, or just explore. The options were endless. 

The festival is the coming together of well known chefs and loved musicians-- but yet, they mixed in with the crowd. They spoke to people, they ate the food, they talked to you like it was no big deal. I never, ever, felt like anybody was better than anyone else when I was there. And when you have people like Mark Critch, Shaun Majumder, Alan Doyle, Murray MacDonald, Catherine and Andrew from Fortunate Ones, and many more acting so down to earth-- it's special. Newfoundlanders are known for that, but to witness it in action was amazing.

They'd heard about The Gathering, so they decided to look it up and quickly came to the conclusion that they wanted to go. There was one problem: they weren't huge campers, and hoped to find a bed and breakfast. They emailed the website, asking if there was any way to find accommodations. They couldn't have been more shocked when they received a reply from Shaun Majumder himself. He couldn't find a place, he told them regretfully, but he really hoped that they would still come. They were so impressed that he personally took the time to answer them, they they booked an RV and stayed for the entire festival. They didn't regret the decision for a second.

You usually hear very little about rural Newfoundland. I mean, I hear about it because I listen and read a lot. But when I lived in Nova Scotia I knew so little, and I might be wrong, but I have a sneaking suspicion that the further west you go, the less people know about Newfoundland. It's not their fault-- it's just a shame that one of Canada's best treasures is overlooked. Their stories and their hearts are worth the drive, worth the flight, and worth the visit.

"I love that all the chefs use my things from the greenhouse, "she told me happily, but she didn't boast. It wasn't until later that night I heard it announced on stage that the festival had started all because of her famous greenhouse.

It must be getting old to hear me say that I think their pride runs deep, but it always amazes me, whether it's about fishing, awesome radio shows, talented musicians, or accidental artists.

She didn't start painting until about three years ago. She needed to get some decorating done, and didn't want to spend too much money so she decided to go mix some paint together to give some new touches to older things. When she was doing that, she decided to paint two pieces. "They weren't masterpieces by any means!" she told me, but something had awakened inside of her. When she was finished, she couldn't help but notice how crooked she felt. "That wasn't normal for me" she said. "Finally I said to my husband, 'I'm upset because I don't have anything to paint.'" So she began to paint again, and she hasn't stopped since. They call her the accidental artist.

The day ended with music that filled my heart up and overflowed with joy. I couldn't help but feel the admiration of the boy who stood close to the stage and pretended to be a rock star by playing air guitar as Alan Doyle performed. I admired the patience of the Fortunate Ones as they put up with sound issues, and I became a new fan of Sherman Downey.

My goal to have each CD from the XX Great Big Sea box set signed became more real. 

Burlington, Newfoundland. It was a place I'd never heard of. A population of 350 people. A small town that probably had been affected brutally by the cod moratorium. A place where people took what life handed them and produced a brilliant plan:

The magic of The Gathering.

Petty Harbour

This weekend has been a lonely one. For some reason I've been feeling especially like an outsider. When that happens, I tend to make a run for it--to the ocean.

@IslandRooms on Twitter told me this about my photo: "This is called Mad Rock.If rock inside of it is covered by waves then fishermen don't go out on the Ledge-favoured fishing berth"

I tried to get photos of people in St. John's yesterday, but was shut down pretty strongly both times I asked. I try so hard not to take it personally, (I know I would refuse.) but I struggle with remembering that when I sometimes spend up to two hours trying to get the courage to approach one person. 

I don't know what it is about wharfs and the water that calms me down. When I got back to my place, I popped in my headphones and headed for the "Protestant side" of Petty Harbour and snapped a couple photos. I am still feeling dissatisfied with my pictures of Newfoundland, but I keep telling myself that the only way I will get better and see it with perspective, is to keep practicing. 

A local fisherman took the time to talk to me for a few minutes, and I appreciated it. I may be an introvert, but since moving here I've discovered I miss conversations with people--I took it for granted back home.

Petty Harbour feels like its own world. I've told people that sometimes it feels like I'm living in a book. There's something about it that reaches out and makes things seem like they are going to be okay. 

I love it for that.