Category Archives: Culture

So what? Big deal.

28 Thursday Feb 2013

Posted by in Commentary, Culture, History

≈ Leave a Comment

Tags

, ,

So the fish are gone in Newfoundland. So what? Big deal. Right? Wrong. So very wrong!

After more than twenty years, our species, the virus known as man, hasn’t learned a blasted thing. We are still fishing carelessly and without regard to the outcome and the future. Gotta have our sushi. Kitty has to have it’s food too. And what lunchbox would be complete without the prerequisite tuna fish sandwich, smell and all? Yet, what is the result of this? Here’s one example.

Resettlement is not a happy word in Newfoundland. In my travels, I visited several sites where once there had been outports (fishing villages) and now there was nothing; plowed under and grown over. People used to live and work there. Now, nothing to even mark their past. Get ready; it’ll happen in more places than we’d like. This is an article from the National Post illustrating what’s at stake.

‘Our little community’s dying’: Isolation prompts Newfoundland town to ask province for ‘resettlement’

Tristin Hopper | Feb 27, 2013 8:31 PM ET
Lockes' Stage on Little Bay Islands, Newfoundland and Labrador.

Adam Norman/Wikipedia Lockes’ Stage on Little Bay Islands, Newfoundland and Labrador.

Little Bay Islands used to be just another prosperous settlement on the Newfoundland coast: Ample jobs at the local crab processing plant, streets jammed with children, dances at the Orange Hall — and all of it within surroundings befitting a tourism ad: Cosy wood houses facing onto an iceberg-dotted Atlantic.

Now, the crab plant is long gone, every shop in town is shuttered and the population has plummeted to 72 from a one-time high of almost 800. Aside from a toddler and a pair of young teenagers, virtually the only islanders left are a few dozen widows and seniors, many of whom don’t have the money to leave.

“We all know our little community’s dying,” said one Little Bay Islands resident who preferred to remain anonymous.

Now, you can’t even get a soft drink

“One time, I’d say there was probably seven or eight stores here; you could go and buy whatever you wanted. Now, you can’t even get a soft drink.”

It is why, earlier this month, the nearly 200-year-old community applied for “resettlement,” a 60-year-old program in which the province issues everyone a cheque to leave town before cutting the power, suspending the ferry service and leaving nature to take its course.

“Since the crab plant closed down there’s no work here whatsoever … and nobody wants to be on EI if they can get away with it,” said Dennis Budgell, a Little Bay Islands town councillor who raised the issue with the province’s Department of Municipal Affairs.

Under the resettlement deal available to Little Bay Islands, if 90% of the community votes in favour, every household will stand to receive between $80,000 and $100,000.

So what, you ask? Big deal. Yeah, it is a big deal.

Everybody’s talkin’…

18 Monday Feb 2013

Posted by in Culture, Newfoundland, Photo-documentary

≈ Leave a Comment

Tags

,

Well, not everybody but quite a few. I’d like to share a review from The Memphis Flyer of my book Arn? Narn. In the interest of full disclosure, it pretty much lets you know where I do my day job…(what, you think all authors drive Ferrari’s and sip Mojitos by the pool while channeling Norman Mailer? If only.) However, it is a good review and I think its author got it right. Hope you enjoy it. Certainly, if you’ve any thoughts or comments, I’d love to hear them.

Go Fish?by Leonard Gill

Trailer21

Three trips to Newfoundland; 5,000 or so photographs: That’s what it’s taken for Memphian Bruce Meisterman to produce Arn? Narn. (Gosslee), his book of striking black-and-white photos of Newfoundland.

Five hundred years: That’s how long Newfoundlanders have been fishing for cod. In recent decades, though, the cod have largely disappeared from Newfoundland’s waters, and a way of life on this island off the coast of Canada is threatened with extinction. Is overfishing to blame? Trawling? Poaching? Climate change? And is this what’s in store for fishstocks globally? Hard to say for sure what’s to blame or what to predict. But no question about the words one often hears from one Newfoundland fisherman, as he heads out to sea, to a fisherman headed back in: “Arn?” (“Fish?”) “Narn.” (“No fish.”).

Meisterman — advertising director for MBQ: Inside Memphis Business, a sister publication of the Flyer — has had his share of local photography exhibits. (See his upcoming show at Askew Nixon Ferguson Architects, opening reception on December 14th.) And he’s doing a good job introducing Memphians to Newfoundland popular culture. (On Wednesday of this week, he joined Bruce Newman for a program of Newfoundland folk music on radio station WEVL.)

But the publication of Arn? Narn. is drawing the most attention, as it did recently at the Southern Festival of Books in Nashville, where interest in Meisterman’s work (and its warnings) was encouraging. So too the positive coverage of Meisterman’s book generally and particularly in a British magazine, which plans to make Arn? Narn. its book of the month in November.

Memphians have a chance to meet Meisterman when he discusses and signs copies of Arn? Narn. at the Booksellers at Laurelwood on Thursday. Doubtful, though, that Meisterman will be doing a book-store signing in Newfoundland. “Earlier this year, the last independent book store on Newfoundland closed,” Meisterman said. “Doesn’t mean I won’t be going up there for the book, though. I’ve made friends with many musicians. They’d love to host a signing.”

And at this point, Amazon is sold out until they get a new shipment. But you can still get them directly from the publisher at fjordsreview.com .

A Newfoundland Christmas post-Christmas poem

26 Wednesday Dec 2012

Posted by in Culture, Humor

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

,

I Just received this this morning from a friend of mine in Newfoundland. Sometime ago, I wrote about Mummering at Christmas time in Newfoundland. This little poem does a good job in describing it. Hope you enjoy it.

A Newfoundland Christmas by James Rogin

‘Twas a night after Christmas in old Newfoundland.
The fire in the place was blazing just grand.
I sat on the chesterfield holding the phone,
While the wife’s in the kitchen making a scone.
When all of a sudden there was a loud rap,
And someone was banging tap a tap, tap.

I went to the door and who should appear,
But a “Mummer” or two looking for beer.
They wore old pillow cases,
That well covered their faces,
And I knew our houses were part of their quests.
So I welcomed them in, these old special guests.

They spoke in strange voices,
Saying I had to make choices,
As to who was who in that strange odd pair,
And so I played a part in this yule time affair.
I quickly named a name that wasn’t quite right.
So they drak my drink and went off into the night.

I never found who my callers were that year.
But I’m glad they came with all that good cheer.
And I hope this tradition will never come to an end,
For this is good fun to have with a friend.
And I’ll remember this Christmas wherever I go,
For I love Newfoundland, this will always be so.

All things considered, I’d rather be in St. John’s.

19 Monday Nov 2012

Posted by in Culture, Newfoundland, Travel

≈ Leave a Comment

Tags

Nine years ago today, I was purchasing gear and planning for my first trip to Newfoundland. Little did I know how transforming a journey it would become. I would be leaving in just four months for this then new adventure. And that adventure has continued nine years later.

How was I to know what effect it would have on me? I certainly did not expect it to change me. How foolish was that? One does not invest so much time and effort, passion, and dreams without it having a profound effect. No, not at all.

      St. John’s, Newfoundland.

There isn’t day that goes by that I don’t think about Newfoundland and everything I experienced while working on Arn? Narn. Whether it’s the incredible land and sea, its people, the music, the photos I took which are permanently fixed in my memory, I can’t get it out of my mind.

So, what is the “cure” for that? Do I need an intervention? An attitude adjustment? I’m not complaining, mind you. I’m just saying this has taken up permanent residence in my head.

All along the process of bringing this book to market, I’ve thought about doing a book signing in Newfoundland. The more I think about it, the more I’d like to do it. I’ve certainly missed the all-important Christmas season to do that, but truthfully, that could have never happened. So now, I’ve got to figure how to get my sorry butt up there. It would be good to visit with my friends and just chill, both literally and figuratively, (it gets a bit cold in winter), in Newfoundland. Hey, it’s a tough job, but…

We interrupt this blog to bring you… Halloween.

01 Thursday Nov 2012

Posted by in Culture, Humor, Local Art, Newfoundland

≈ Leave a Comment

Tags

, , ,

Last night being All Hallow’s Eve, I couldn’t help but put something of a Newfoundland spin on it. At Christmas time in Newfoundland, in addition to all the normal festivities including the prerequisite kitchen parties, is the custom of Mummering. I’ve written about this previously, but I’ll recap. Complete strangers, oddly dressed, descend upon unsuspecting resident’s homes and demand food and drink, carouse, and usually stay until tired or their true identities are discovered and then they leave to repeat said mayhem in yet another home. It can get out of hand. Once the government even tried to outlaw it, but the Newfoundlanders were having none of that, thank you b’y.

This year, as we get ready to dole out the ritual baksheesh to the little and not-so-little ones, I got to thinking how cool it might be to dress as a mummer here in the US.

This is Alphonse.

This is a fairly typical mummer “outfit” and is not the kind of costume one gets in a store. No, this requires creativity or color blindness at the very least. These figurines are from a collection created by two Newfoundland women, Pam and Cara. They produce one new limited edition mummer every year and are usually quite funny. Yet, they are accurate and indicative of what one might have knocking on their door come Christmas time.

Nish from Merasheem.

Now, can you imagine someone showing up at your house on Halloween in this? You might be inclined to call the police or at least use some pepper spray. But generally speaking in Newfoundland, it’s usually just harmless fun. However, I would not suggest walking into a convenient store dressed like this. They do have surveillance cameras after all.

And of course in the spirit(s) of the holiday, a toast must be made. Have another one, Fannie?

Fannie from Fogo.

The other possible downside in dressing this way for Halloween is that you might get picked up for vagrancy. After all, I don’t think we’re in Newfoundland anymore, Toto.

It’s your turn.

20 Monday Aug 2012

Posted by in Culture, Newfoundland, Observations, Photography, Sea

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

, ,

For a year now, arnnarn.com has been publishing my experiences in Newfoundland and about producing the book Arn? Narn. There is still more to come as we get closer to publication date – six weeks away – and I’ll still be writing about what happens afterwards! But as I have in the past, I’d like to shake things up and do something a little different for a bit.

Have you ever been to Newfoundland? Have you ever published a book? Have you done both? I would love to learn of your experiences. Many of you have commented on these posts and I would love to share them with this blog’s readers. Any dialogue we can create that explains, enlightens, illustrates in more detail the unique quality of Newfoundland is welcome.

Pictures regarding your experiences are welcome as long as they don’t violate any standards of good taste whatever those may be in this day of cable, internet, and such. Inclusions will be totally random and subjective.

Gros Morne, Newfoundland.

Ocean photography is also welcome and does not necessarily have to pertain to the above mentioned requirements. Since Arn? Narn.is about a culture that supported itself by the sea and its bounty and can no longer, the photos should be related to that. This is a global problem that is only going to get worse. Perhaps we all can help.

Related articles

We drive around, eat some fish, listen to music, talk to Newfoundlanders, and go to a dance.

30 Monday Jul 2012

Posted by in Culture, Discovery, Local Art, Observations

≈ Leave a Comment

Tags

,

With bellies full and hearts settled, we set out to explore. We have a map but plan on using it only if we get lost. If you know where you are in relation to the sea, you should be alright. That was our plan and we stuck to it.

We visited some antique shops in Burin and were able to get a small but nice sense of their history. Like all of Newfoundland, it was informed by fishing. And the articles in the shop reflected that: old prints of boats and fish, compasses and sextants, posters and signs from another era, hosted by a typically wonderful and friendly Newfoundlander.

Across the street was a small museum, the Burin Heritage Museum which of course we had to see. In it were displays of indigenous wildlife, a photo gallery of the 1929 tidal wave that created an incredible amount of damage, architectural records, local ceramics, histories including those of Burin’s involvement in WWII, clothes, and folk art. It was amazing how much that rather small house held.

Burin Heritage Museum                  (townof burin.com)

After that it was time for lunch. Options were limited but a restaurant was right across the street so off we went. Burin is small, it seems as if everything is right across the street. We chowed down and headed out once more.

While walking around, we found this beautiful wooden bay walk that took us almost around the entire bay. We watched while a local fisherman/artist painted a mural on the side of a meeting hall. He invited us into the hall to see more of his work. They were wall size murals and quite good in a folk art fashion, but sadly too big to take home though. He told us he had to finish it quickly as there was a dance there that evening. Everyone has a great time and we should come. Yes, they ARE that friendly to strangers. We didn’t want to commit, but told him we would try. We would. We did.

Burin bay walk. (panaramio.com)

Newfoundland dances are like no other I’ve been to. They are truly egalitarian: all ages, all occupations, no pretense. They are there for one reason – to have fun. And do they ever. Anyone can get up and sing, anyone can join the band, and everyone dances with everyone. It is a remarkable experience.

If you’re not dancing, singing, or playing an instrument, you’re at a table discussing your entire life story with complete strangers, except they’re really not strangers any longer. That is Newfoundland. You’re a stranger for no more than a few minutes.

Many of the people there are older. If you get to sit with them, prepare to share your medical history with them. That noted, it may say something about the Canadian health system that so many of them are elderly and still kicking up their heels. Or they’re just happy to be living in Newfoundland. And that last statement is fact. They do love Newfoundland.

Over the course of my trips up there, I have heard the same refrain repeated time and time again. “I moved away, but had to come back. This is home.” Or some such variation. What makes this all the more significant and poignant, is Newfoundlanders want to come back even if there is no fishing any longer. It is home, their home and they love it. How many of us can say that about where we live? And how many of us dance there?

Related articles

Watching the fog roll around and drinking wine.

26 Thursday Jul 2012

Posted by in Culture, Discovery, Travel

≈ Leave a Comment

Tags

After the initial concussion of our cottage by the bay, Carla and I are acting like we live there. We could do this – downsize and do it here. We don’t need all: the clothes, furniture, tchotchkes, appliances, whatever that we have. This is life simplified. This is life without pretense, life without malls, life without Walmart. This is good.

We go to the general store up the road for all the immediate essentials we need. We get to know the shopkeeper by name. That’s easy – this is Newfoundland after all. How many times have I said that? But it’s true. We chat daily and she shares with us her nephew is in a band (all teenagers) and we ought to buy their new CD. We do. It’s really good! No, it’s very good. The group is called Eventide and they’ve recorded a number of traditional Newfoundland folk songs. We play it a lot. Even the record store in St. John’s carries it. How cool is that?

Eventide CD (freds.nf.net)

Newfoundland doesn’t have some of the hangups the US does. Admittedly, there are some states which are more liberal than others, but I’m not talking politically. I’m talking about what are reasonable expectations. If you want to buy hard liquor along with wine and beer, go to the government store for the best selection. If you just want to buy some beer or some wine, hell, then just go to the general store and get some. What’s the big deal?

It was no big deal. It was late in the afternoon, we had done about as much traveling as we wanted to, so off to the general store and pick up a bottle or two of wine. If you’re a practicing locavore, try the Canadian Jackson Trigg wine, it’s surprisingly good and affordable. So we did. Or if you’re into beer, Quidi Vidi brewery out of St. John ‘s makes some mighty fine brews. Yes, I can attest to imbibing both of those.

Oh, yeah, good stuff. (signalblog.ca)

With our larder thus and properly stocked, we went home. It was just as well. It was getting on to dusk and a fog was rolling in. Time to get out on the porch, crack open a bottle of wine, sit back, listen to the waves, watch the fog make everything look mysterious and romantic at the same time and very much alive.

Yes, life is good.

Related articles

Hi Ho all over again…Part 2

19 Thursday Jul 2012

Posted by in Culture, Travel

≈ Leave a Comment

Tags

After our momentous arrival in St. John’s, daylight has finally arrived and we leave the hotel, but not before tipping generously the still on-duty, unbelievably helpful concierge. We grab a taxi and head over to the airport. It is still a bit too early as the car rental counters aren’t open yet, so we just sort of sit around looking at brochures and such.

Carla wandered off to find new reading materials and pamphlets, whatever is on the racks for tourists such as her. I, an inveterate snob, no longer consider myself a tourist in Newfoundland. Hey, I’ve been “screeched.” She returns with a small pile of them.

As she’s sifting through them, she comes a cross a large postcard for a beautiful, pastoral looking B&B, photographed in a soft, romantic fog. (By the way, fog can make almost anything and anyplace look good.) She’s smitten by it. “Look at this,” she says. “Oh, this is perfect.” I, being the perfect husband, say “Yes it is. We’re staying there later on the trip.” She thinks I’m joking as I am prone to do. Not this time, I assure her. I’ve booked us there for three nights. As I wrote in the previous post, major points here! Carla’s getting excited.

Something to get excited about alright. (bedbreakfasthome.com)

The car rental counter opens, we get our car and head out. As it is still early and we are somewhat famished, we find the nearest Tim Horton‘s and indulge in good coffee and less than nourishing donut-related pastries. Finally, it’s late enough in the morning to find out why there was no room at the inn last night.

(waymarking.com)               It’s always safe at Tim Horton’s.

We raise the proprietors of our B&B and explain what happened. They check their books and determine that the person who took our reservation booked us for arriving that night. She probably got confused when I told her we were arriving very early that morning. The hosts could not be more apologetic and told us to come right over. They would get a room ready for us to crash in if we wanted to while they got our proper room ready. We got in, crashed and slept well for the next few hours. Our hosts would move all our stuff to the right room while we were out doing whatever we would do.

What we were going to do was get some lunch, show Carla around and meet up later with my photographer friend Randy and his wife Vickie for dinner. Food, drink, and rest are amazing for what they can do for the body and spirit. Thus fortified, we were ready for St. John’s, Newfoundland, and what new adventures were in front of us.

Dinner tonight, road trip tomorrow, and Burin by late afternoon. It’s good to be back.

Related articles

Hi Ho, Hi Ho, it’s off to… (with apologies to Snow White and her minions, not to mention Steve McQueen).

16 Monday Jul 2012

Posted by in Culture, Travel

≈ Leave a Comment

In the estimation of my wife, I had become obsessed with Newfoundland. Yeah, alright, it’s true. (Could an intervention be far behind?) The two trips up there had been transformative experiences for me. Now that she had seen what I had seen, she wanted to go there. Who was I to argue?

Planning the trip was easy as she wanted to go to the places to where I’d been. Since we did not have as much time as I did originally, I planned a truncated version which I felt would give her good exposure to this land with which I’d fallen in love. Keepin’ my fingers crossed!

Our flight would get us into St. John’s well after midnight, so we would have to take a taxi to the B&B I’d booked. I stayed there on each previous trip as my starting point and didn’t see any reason to change that. Since we would be arriving late, they left me the punch-key code to get in and our room key outside our room. Cool.

As it was so late, the car rental counters were closed until later that morning. We would have to come back then and pick up our car. So, we hailed a taxi and were treated to a rapid, Bullitt-(the movie) like trip downtown. The driver was a typical friendly Newfoundlander and quite fond of using the f-word. “F” this, “F” that, entertaining to a point, but losing its charm halfway there.

(auto.howstuffworks.com)                 Our driver only thought he was Steve McQueen.

We arrive at the B&B around 1:30 AM. I punch in the code, go upstairs, schlepping the luggage up (three flights!) to our room, look for the key, and hear snoring…in our room! Since I didn’t book a semi-private room, this could not be right. I tried calling the owners several times, leaving messages, but to no avail.

But we were downtown and just a block or two away from a large hotel. Down three flights with the luggage and out on to the street. Off we went to see if there was any room at the inn. Down a hill, up a hill with our luggage in tow. (Do you think I’m making a really good impression on my wife at this point? Surly is not one of her more attractive traits.) We enter the hotel and go to the reception desk and ask for a room. No, there was no room at this inn. There was a Harley Davidson convention in town and all the rooms were booked.

Sort of like this. (examiner.com)

However, this being Newfoundland, the uber-friendly concierge started calling all, and I do mean all, the other hotels and B&B’s in town in an effort to get us lodging for the night. At 2:00 in the morning! But to no avail. The bikers weren’t the only convention in town. The other convention could have been Beanie Baby collectors for all I cared. (No, this was not starting out at all as I planned and my wife was quickly resenting this trip.)

The concierge was quite apologetic. He suggested we could leave our bags with him and go further downtown (four blocks) for food and music if we were so inclined. My wife was a bit apprehensive, no, a lot, about walking in a dark city at 2:30 in the morning. We both tried to reassure her this was OK. How could anything could be open at this hour? Hah! This is St. John’s! Off we went.

Within a couple of blocks, music of all types could be heard. People were out and about having a fine time. Before long, so were we. We got food and drink, listened to some music, and wandered safely back to the hotel where we were invited to rest in the lobby (!) until morning. Try that anywhere else and you’ll be arrested for vagrancy! In Newfoundland, you are truly welcome and they’ll go out of their way to prove it.

Later that morning, we’ll go to the airport to get our car, where I’ll make major points!

Related articles

Mummer Dearest. (Don’t worry about the wire hangers.)

18 Monday Jun 2012

Posted by in Culture, History, Local Art

≈ Leave a Comment

Tags

,

For a lot of people, the idea of mummers is garishly dressed men in otherworldly and fanciful, often feathered outfits marching in a parade. Almost as if RuPaul had been on a bad acid trip. Making it worse is that it was usually held on New Year’s Day morning in Philadelphia. As if a hangover weren’t enough!

Not from Philadelphia.

But as in Star Wars, these are not the Mummers you’re looking for. As opposed to the Mos Eisley of the aforementioned parade, the mummers I’m talking about are of a traditional kind. This mummer tradition dates back to the mid 1800′s originating mostly in Northern Europe. Since the book “Arn? Narn.” is about Newfoundland, let’s talk about their mummering tradition. It’s a hell of lot more entertaining.

The names have been changed to protect the innocent.

In Newfoundland, locals would dress up, (a slight overstatement as anything that would fit on one’s person or over other garments would constitute a “costume”) and visit, well rather prey on other people’s houses. Once admitted in, they would generally carouse and torment (all in good fun of course), causing minor and sometimes major damages to that particular abode, usually drink all the legal adult spirits, and not leave until the hosts (read this as hostages) identified who the invaders were. Once that was accomplished, the mummers would then move on to yet another house and repeat their holiday mayhem. Sounds like fun doesn’t it? Unless yours was the next house to host such “festivities.”

The mummering tradition is immortalized in all sorts of folk art: from statues to drawings and paintings to song and story.Singer Loreena McKennit also sang about it in her haunting song “The Mummer’s Dance.”

In my travels while photographing Newfoundland, I became interested in the Mummer tradition. Not so much as to participate (the opportunity never presented itself and more’s the pity!), but as something I would like to remember as part of the Newfoundland experience. The closest I was able to get was in local art. One in particular caught my eye. The photo below are Mummer figurines produced by Pam and Cara in Newfoundland. They issue one new Mummer each year and they sell out pretty fast.

True confession: I even have a few of these. Does anyone know where I can get a curio cabinet cheap?

And in atypical fashion, as I am loathe to like anything that falls into a category loosely defined as tschotckes, I found myself charmed by these. The good news is that if you invite these guys into your home, they won’t cause any damage. And better yet, they’ll leave your liquor stash alone! That alone makes them better than most guests, right?

Related articles

Come from away’s are welcome here.

11 Monday Jun 2012

Posted by in Culture, Language

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

,

I’d come from a long way away. I’m not from Newfoundland and more’s the pity, to me at last. I’m a “come from away.” That is the gentle term Newfoundlanders use to describe visitors or people who have moved from a different part of this province or another country to this new one. Come from away? Well, yes I have.

To a come-from-away, the Newfoundland language is unique to itself. It is a lingual stew comprised of English and Irish with a hell of a lot of salt water thrown in for seasoning. When you hear it, and it’s not spoken like Jimmy from a previous post, it has a lilt and a rolling cadence. The Dictionary of Newfoundland English (yes b’y! ) is a nearly 800 page book with all you need to know. Unlike Madonna, I don’t advocate you starting to use a Newfoundland accent. That’s just silly.

Being that big and that thick makes it just a wee bit unwieldy to carry around to use as a handy pocket travelers guide (it’s more like a door stop!) to speaking the language. But it is a start. The language spoken in Newfoundland is English, but filled with unique and often funny colloquialisms.

“Touch da beer cap b’y!” translates to “You’re quite the cheapskate!” Succinct and right to the point.

“What’s your name” comes as “Who’s you buddy?” Please, do not under any circumstance confuse this with “Who’s your daddy?” Really.

If your car breaks down and you call for help, you would probably hear a response along the lines of “Stay there and I’ll be right over”. Translated it becomes the wonderful “Stay where’s yer at ’til I comes where yer to.”

If you are in a courting mood with a Newfoundland lass, you would probably say something like “Missus, what’ye at?” All of these done in a Newfoundland accent of course. Please, don’t try this in NYC.

“Buddy, you don’t know n’one who don’t want nuttin done, d’ya?” is the plaintive plea for work. Put that on your resume!

And the all purpose “Yes b’y” has many meanings. It can mean something as simple as “Right?” It can also be used to express emotions of agreement, acknowledgement, disbelief, amazement, shock, dismay, ridicule, impatience, happiness, endearment, and just as a lingual lubricant. But there are places where one should probably not use it as in: “Thank you, I’d love another serving of the pecan-encrusted pork tenderloins, b’y” – nah, that’s wrong on so many levels. If used within the context of Newfoundland English, it’s OK. Just the same, they’ll know you’re a come from away. Don’t try and fake it. You won’t get away with it.

So, I am a “come from away.” Yes b’y!

Related articles

Fame! I’m gonna live forever!

19 Thursday Apr 2012

Posted by in Culture, Humor

≈ Leave a Comment

Tags

,

Or so goes the title song from the movie “Fame”. It is still several months away from the publication of my photography book “Arn? Narn.”. Yet, even this far out, interrupting of what I’m sure for my dear readers is a riveting accounting of my travails in the darkroom, I am cranking up the star-making machinery (thanks to Joni for that!) in advance for the book.

Considering how early this is, I am meeting with some local success in planning my public relations assault on an unsuspecting world. The largest locally owned bookstore will do a book signing event. (Helpful holiday gift buying tip – these make wonderful gifts. If you buy only one gift this year concerning Newfoundland, this is the one to get.) To prepare, I’ll be practicing writing pithy notes onto the front page of each book for the wise, talented, extremely gifted, and good-looking buyer.

Also this week, the local NPR station has agreed to do an interview with me concerning the book. Now I’ll have to practice sounding lucid and to watch my language. After all, there might be children listening. I’ll be expounding on Newfoundland and the subject of this book. (If you read only one book about Newfoundland this year, “Arn? Narn.” should be it.)

And all of this has happened before any of the major world news outlets have heard about it! Wait, is that a film crew outside my door? (If you see only one movie this year about Newfoundland,…) What? Reuters wants to talk with me? Huh?, “Top Gear” wants to do a special with me in Newfoundland? OK, yes, I got carried away a little.

This whole process is entirely new to me. While it took me a year to do my initial research on Newfoundland before venturing up there, I don’t have the luxury of time in learning to do self PR. This is a make-it-up-as-you-go-along course. Ahhh, yet another skill I’ll be able to add to my resume.

And now we return you to the originally scheduled blog “arnnarn.com”.

Related articles

Billy Joel, I ain’t. Not even Tiny Tim! Or “Uptown Girl” meets Miss Vicki and hilarity ensues.

16 Monday Apr 2012

Posted by in Culture, Observations

≈ Leave a Comment

Tags

Ah, the infamous kitchen parties with which I was to become intimately familiar and soon. Like now!?

I meet Gerard over at Red’s, of course and where else?, and we go over to his house and have a beer before we head to the kitchen party and start to get serious about this. If there is ever an Olympic event for partying, the gold and silver medals go to Australians and Newfoundlanders – and not necessarily in that order.

A kitchen party is a rather organic happening. They spring up quickly, not like a flash mob though, and everyone goes. It is a most democratic event. You come, you bring food and/or drink, you talk, joke, tell outrageous stories, sing, dance maybe, and have a hell of a good time. They start sometime in the evening, there is no official start time, just as there is no official or expected finish time. They’ve been know to go to 6 or 7 in the morning! That is a lot of food, drink, socializing, etc. This will be perfect material for my book. I’ll be photographing all night!

We arrive and a drink is promptly inserted into my unsuspecting but not unwilling hand. Toasts are made. Let’s get this party started!

What I did not know, or what my trusty “guide books” failed to tell me of, is that if one is attending a kitchen party, then they have the responsibility of singing a song, telling a story or jokes, playing a musical instrument, or performing any such sort of entertainment of which they are capable – inebriated or not! Inebriated generally makes for a much more lively performance, or so it seems.

I’m not Billy Joel by a long shot. (diggz.org)

I don’t really sing. Not even in the shower. I don’t play an instrument unless you count the stereo. I did not know these folks well enough to tell some of the jokes I might, though I suspect they would have appreciated some of them very much. From my previous trip to Newfoundland, I had picked up some CD’s of local music and had miraculously learned a few of the songs! “Do you know ‘Rant and Roar’? ” I ask. They respond, “y’mean the ‘Ryans and the Pittman’s?’ ” “Yes! That’s it” We both launch into the song, not really performing together, style is not as important as enthusiasm here, and we finish – both with appreciation: me for getting through it; them for me not singing any longer.

I’m not even Tiny Tim, but probably closer to him. (lyrics.wikia.com)

As the night wore on, some of the party’ers were asking if I was able to understand Gerard’s speaking. I told them yes, I was, pretty much able to. I did mention Jimmy, the suspicious drinker at Red’s, and I could understand almost nothing he said. This brought on tons of laughs as someone responded to me: “That’s OK. No one understands Jimmy!” And here I thought it was just me.

Related articles

Losing my religion… not exactly.

09 Monday Apr 2012

Posted by in Culture, Discovery, Humor, Newfoundland, Observations

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

It’s Sunday morning. I had my coffee, it’s just grey outside, too early for Red’s (do they open on Sunday?), too early for most things after a kitchen party.

So I’m wandering around on a rather quiet morning and notice a small but steady stream of people walking towards something. To where? I’ll follow in my stealth photographer’s mode, trying not to let my cameras hit against each other too loudly and give my surveillance away. Why look, they must be god-fearing folks as they’re all going to church. Some turn around and see me. So much for being unobtrusive.

“How will you know them?” Courtesy Anglican Mainstream

So, hi-ho, hi-ho, I guess it’s off to church I go. A little church never hurt anyone, right? I follow them in and sit in the back as appropriate for a camera-toting reprobate such as myself. I did say it was grey outside. It was even greyer inside. This was looking like one of the older chapters of the Canadian AARP. It appears the younger Rameans have other things to do on Sunday morning. Like recovering from kitchen parties maybe?

It was a large, beautiful, old church, the kind one might find in fishing villages anywhere. But because of the lack of fishing and the loss of population, it was operating on a much smaller budget. In the winter, when I was there, they would close the main floor with the sanctuary in order to save money on heat. Consequently, they worshiped on a ground level meeting room. It was pretty standard Anglican fare. Nothing terribly unfamiliar, but none of the awe-inspiring trappings usually associated with a lot of churches. Come to think of it, it reminded me of many of the churches I’d seen in New England – plain, austere, and somewhat spartan.

The church members, being Newfoundlanders (obviously!), were all friendly but somewhat reserved. Q: Who comes to church with cameras on them? A: I do. That’s not exactly what people expect to find when they go their house of worship. (God is watching and he sent me to get proof!)

I stayed around a bit after the service and spoke with some members as well of the minister. She was a very busy woman. On alternating Sundays, she preached at the Catholic Church elsewhere on the island. I hope she never got her liturgy confused – might upset some of the folk, you know.

Like other times while in Newfoundland you would meet the same person again, I would run into her again, but elsewhere. It is a small world, but Ramea makes it even smaller.

Part 2: Kicking back at Red’s Lounge…

03 Tuesday Apr 2012

Posted by in Culture, Discovery, Food, Humor, Local Art, Photography

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, ,

The afternoon was spent walking around the island taking pictures of local signage, laundry lines, wind turbines, boats (mostly in dry dock as there was no fishing here either), and coves. If it moved I photographed it. If it stood still, I photographed it. Yup, there I was again, taking pictures of nothing! But really good pictures of nothing if I say so myself. It moved, it stood still, it was a wind turbine, I photographed it.

Sidebar -There’s a woman who paints all the house numbers and signs and mailboxes on the island; a limited growth opportunity indeed, yet the local art scene is definitely defined by her! And it was sort of like being in her island-wide showroom. She was that prolific. Certainly she had her themes down: boats, flags, fish, propellers, anchors, etc.

So the light was now fading and I wasn’t far behind it. I was in need of sustenance and it was too early to go back to the B&B for a formal dinner. Since I now knew the island like the back of my hand, it was back to Red’s. I was going to check out if they had any beer left. Photographing clotheslines creates a mighty thirst.

Lucky for me they had some left. I was welcomed back by Gerard and the locals (sounds like a perfect bar band!) whom I’d met earlier and introduced to some new (to me) citizens. Someone had gone hunting and brought back some fresh moose meat. They had the aforethought to grind it up, make mooseburgers, and serve them to customers. And that’s how I came to have my first (and probably last) mooseburger. It was OK if you don’t mind eating the inspiration for a cartoon, but personally, I liked caribou better. (Please don’t tell my fiends at PETA!)

As I mentioned earlier, I stood out. I was not from there and one citizen had taken note of that and his concern was quite obvious. I couldn’t hear what he was saying to the others, but the not-so-furtive and mildly hostile glances could not be overlooked. Hmmmm – what to do? It would clear soon enough.

Related articles

Kicking back at Red’s Lounge, meeting the locals, being told where to go (in the nicest way possible, this is Newfoundland after all), and having my first beer in Ramea. Part 1.

27 Tuesday Mar 2012

Posted by in Culture, Discovery, Humor, Observations, Travel

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

When traveling, one of the best ways to get the feel, the flavor, and the social climate of a new locale is to visit the local watering hole. And on Ramea. the best one is Red’s Lounge. Red’s being the best bar/lounge is not only my opinion, it’s also the opinion of all the locals and they should know. It wins hands down and the reason is quite simple – it’s the only bar on Ramea. And though it’s the only pub on the island, it’s not open everyday or all hours. The owner works at an oil company and that job comes first. Priorities – we all have them but I wish his matched mine better.

As in my trip to Fogo Island a week earlier, I needed to get to know the “powers-that-be” in Ramea. Since whoever wore the mantle of he/she-that-counts-as-the-big-cheese-or-poobah-of-the-island was not to be found, I did the next best thing. I went to Red’s. it was lunchtime after all and the light wouldn’t be good until 2:00 PM. Ahhh, the life of the photographer!

Certainly in an outport/island such as Ramea, a stranger stands out even if they’re not in a bar. As in the TV show “Cheers”, everyone knows your name and it wasn’t long before almost everyone knew mine. Hell, you walk into any place with cameras dangling all over you and people look up and take notice.

Before long, maybe at least two or three minutes(!), I was being “interrogated” by the locals. Actually, befriended is a much, much better description but not as humorous. The first of my “interrogators”, sorry,that’s friends, was Gerard. Gerard, born and raised on Ramea, was thrilled to have someone new to talk with. As in any bar anywhere, it’s the same people and the same stories, over and over again. I was going to be entertainment or least a source of new stories. Hey, their stories were new to me! That should count for something.

  So, over a beer or two, maybe three of the locally brewed Quidi Vidi variety, Gerard filled me on all the poop. Who was who in the bar, what people did, local color, etc. For me, he was a font of information – some of it was useful immediately, some not until later that day, but I was not to know that at the time. However, Red’s was to become my base of local operations for the time I would be there. In the meantime, I would need to get outside to photograph while the light was getting better. It turned out that they had a hell of lot more beer left than I did light.

Abducted by sea turtles AND the talk of the town.

19 Monday Mar 2012

Posted by in Culture, Geography, History, Humor, Observations, Photography, Travel

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

, ,

With all apologies to the bard (Ramea, O’ Ramea, where art thou O’ Ramea?), Ramea is a small island off the southern coast of Newfoundland and I arrived safely on the good ship (well, ferry) Gallipoli. For those who may be history minded, Gallipoli is the name of a horrible battle in World War I in which allied soldiers were brutally massacred because of an incredibly dumb decision. It was also a movie starring the then uncontroversial and better-looking actor Mel Gibson. And Gallipoli was the boat of which I just got off! Should I have read something into that? Time enough to ponder as I’ll be getting back on it to return to the Newfoundland mainland in a few days.

Approaching Ramea, one travels though a beautiful though unexpected archipelago. It was a wonderful greeting. The only thing missing were giant sea turtles, but for all I knew they may have been laying in wait to ambush me and make mock-Bruce soup. Hey, it could happen.

This was going to be very cool. Ramea is a very small island, populated by about 600 people. At it’s peak in the early 1970′s, it had about double that, but when the fish were gone, half the populace followed. Yet, it holds on. There is a music festival, like so many other Newfoundland outports, in August. And there are a number of outdoor activities in which one can indulge. The electricity is furnished by a small wind turbine farm. OK, so much for the Chamber of Commerce business.

As I’ve come to learn and appreciate and obsessively seek out, the best activity of all in Newfoundland is talking and partying with Newfoundlanders, everywhere! And that more than anything would define this part of the journey. Oh, the photographs would be taken. And with the certainty of only those of the pure of heart and who sleep like babies, I knew they would be good. I didn’t really, I hoped they would be good. But I’m rambling. The beer would be drunk, but not I, oh, no! Moose what would be eaten. Sorry, Squirrel. More on that later,

I checked into the B&B on Ramea, unpacked, and then started out on which was to be my newest adventure. Without giving too much away, must be frugal with my words here, I was to see clothes-lines, coffins, windmills, hand-painted signs, a bar, so much more and unbeknownst to me at the time, become the talk of the island.

Related articles

It’s hard out there for a…fisherman.

27 Monday Feb 2012

Posted by in Culture, Discovery, Fish, History, Observations

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

OK, if I was to start a new career, I don’t think it would be as a fisherman. No, that requires real work, long hours, danger, a tremendous amount of uncertainty, harsh weather, roiling seas, low wages, and oh, did I mention danger?

In a line from the film “The Shipping News”, Billy Pretty explains to the film’s protagonist Quoyle, “…there’s more people down under these waters than are killed on the roads.” True that! The life of a fisherman is dangerous. There are monuments to those lost at sea and they number quite a few. And their families left behind are sometimes not mute testimony to this. But still, when they can, they fish. There’s very little in commercial cod fishing, but in appropriate season, crabbing, lobstering, and shrimping have filled some of the void.

Still, trying to make such a living is difficult. In an interview I conducted with a fishing fleet owner, he described the hardships faced each year, getting harder with every passing year. For him, that life was more in the past than in the future. He did not feel hopeful of the future in the least and wondered how his grandchildren would get along were they to stay.

Yet, their culture, their love for their home and the life that went before them, holds them in an almost magical way. Many people with whom I spoke, had left Newfoundland for work or school only to come back as soon as they could. All too often, wherever I’ve traveled, people talk about getting out, to somewhere else, somewhere better; no saying home for me, nossir! Grass is always greener I guess. Not in Newfoundland. they know just how green their grass is and they like it just fine, thank you very much.

But they know they’re coming back to a different land. One where the fish are gone and where their culture is disappearing if they don’t act to preserve it: that culture that has been so informed by fishing for over five centuries.

“Arn? Narn.” Any fish? No fish. It is hard out there for a fisherman.

Newf-a-licious!

23 Thursday Feb 2012

Posted by in Culture, Food, Newfoundland, Observations

≈ 1 Comment

Newf-a-licious – it sounds like it could be a TV show on Bravo, E!, or Oxygen. Happily, it’s not that at all. Instead, it’s a word just coined to describe native Newfoundland cuisine. Oh, all the expected dishes are available and there are some very fine restaurants pushing the envelope for the foodies out there. But it’s the ones that really define Newfoundland gastronomical culture I want to share.

It’s a rare person who doesn’t know what cod, a favorite of mine, is. Fish and chips is a ubiquitous dish in many places around the world. But it’s an even rarer (non-Newfoundlander) person who knows what cod cheeks are. I’ve already written about scruncheons, but how about seal flipper pie? Or brewis? Figgy duff?

Cod cheeks are pretty self-explanatory if not easily attainable in the lower 48. It’s the fleshy part of the head considered to be a delicacy when cooked. Great late at night with some local brew.

Brewis – why, that’s no more than than hard tack (a bread) soaked in water and then boiled with salt cod and/or fat pork. This could very well be on the American Heart Association’s list of foods to eat in moderation and it’s very popular. It’s often the main course.

Or seal flipper pie. Of course you would want it fresh, so you’d go down to the docks in St. John’s and buy fresh seal flippers from the trucks, right off the boats. For many, it’s considered a delicacy. It wasn’t my favorite.

And then there’s figgy duff, a dessert, which really is quite nice. It’s a boiled pudding with raisins and saturated with molasses and was in the past thought of as a luxury.

Lest you think everything is made from lesser ingredients, there is caribou and moose. Caribou sausage is really good. The moose burger to my tastes needed a lot of extras like cheese, onions, etc; but not bad.

But wait, one must wash this down with a beverage, right? And besides all the usual alcoholic suspects including Screech, there’s local beer from the Quidi Vidi Brewing Co. right in St. John’s. I’m happy to say, I’ve sampled most of them and quaffed even more of certain ones and enjoyed them all.

Beer is not the only beverage made in St. John’s. Vodka made from iceberg water is very popular. Dan Ackroyd, he of Saturday Night Live, Blues Brothers, and Ghostbuster fame has made a vodka distilled from very pure iceberg water. It comes in a crystal skull (don’t ask why) and is sold thoughout the US.

There’s more but that’s the idea. At the end of the day, it’s all Newf-a-licious. Just don’t forget the beer or vodka.

I’ll have the Shiraz de Fogo, please.

15 Wednesday Feb 2012

Posted by in Culture, Discovery, Food, Observations

≈ Leave a Comment

Tags

,

If grapes grew in Newfoundland, this is what I imagine they would look like.

Indigenous to Newfoundland among other plants are the partridgeberry/lingonberry, bakeapple, elephanthead lousewort, mint, thistle, and pearly everlasting. Some of these I’d known of, well, maybe two or three. The others were new to me. But, nowhere on the island, not on any lists of flora, were there any grapes. And the same is true of Fogo Island on the north shore of Newfoundland.

So imagine my surprise when my hosts Glenn and Mathilda, while having me over for dinner, brought out a bottle of homemade wine. My experience with homemade wine has not been very good. Not that I’ve made it myself; I’m always too eager to open the bottle than wait for it to age properly. What I’ve had is mostly forgettable; some I’m still trying to forget. So it was with no small apprehension that I awaited it’s opening and subsequent decantation. What was it made from? I was already trying in advance to formulate a response to what I just knew was going to be horrible. These were genuinely nice, thoughtful people who wanted to share with me their craft and I did not want to hurt their feelings.

In anticipation of the dinner and as an early thanks to them, I had brought a bottle of wine as a gift to them. They opened it and we drank from that. It was a nice, unpretentious wine that certainly would not screw up our meal. It was a great dinner. We laughed, and talked about our families, etc. and went though the first bottle rather quickly.

Now, their bottle came out. Trapped! It had a nice label on it – Shiraz, it said with some information about its winemakers, Glenn and Mathilda. It looked OK; nice deep red color, it didn’t even smell bad. Actually, it smelled pretty good. I could not avoid this any longer, now came the moment of truth. I took a sip. I took a bigger sip. I then took a gulp. It was GOOD. I asked for another glass. My inner wino took over.

Now I don’t think Napa has much to worry about. Glenn and Mathilda’s production is rather small. But damn, it’s good. Who woulda thunk it? Newfoundland wine – yet another reason to go there. Not like I needed any more.

I go, you go, Fogo!

31 Tuesday Jan 2012

Posted by in Culture, Discovery, History, Observations, Photography, Travel

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, ,

                                                                     From a more hopeful time.

Pardon the silliness of the title, but I’ll be off to Fogo Island on the north coast of Newfoundland. It, after arriving in St. John’s, will be the first stop in my second trip up there. It is there where I hope to find and start to photograph the newly realized core of my book, “Arn? Narn.”

Just what is that core? It’s what I had already known but not realized; then realized but didn’t understand; and now it was a growing awareness of the impact of the fishing moratorium and it’s subsequent long-term effects. It was as my Fogo Island innkeeper was to tell me, “What you see now will not be here in 10-12 years.” That wasn’t prescient; it was fact: one I was still to discover first hand.

Fogo Island is so uniquely Newfoundland. (Where else could you be greeted by The Mouse?) The name was originally Y del Fogo, meaning island of fire. There is speculation as to the origin of the name: perhaps it was the native Beothuk’s (now extinct) campfires or multiple forest fires, but no one is certain.

The island supported itself solely on fishing as had the entire province. Now it was suffering the same fate as that of the larger “mainland” island. True, it had the annual Brimstone Head Folk festival each summer on Brimstone Head, (reputed by the Flat Earth Society to be one of the four corners of the earth!) but that was in early August for only a few days. A week before that is the Ethridge Point Seaside Festival in Joe Batt’s Arm. These bring some tourists in but for a short time, not enough to make much of a difference.

I was to be here for nearly a week in which I would be able to roam and photograph across the island, talk with people directly, and get a better feel for this environment. I would learn that Fogo was the main outport/town on Fogo Island – do not confuse the two. Fogo (the town) is joined by the communities of Joe Batt’s Arm, Seldom, Little Seldom, Tilting, Barr’d Islands, and Stag Harbour. In 2006 they all came together to form the Town of Fogo, while retaining their individual personalities. More to come on Fogo soon.

Launching a…house?

13 Friday Jan 2012

Posted by in Culture, Discovery, History, Observations

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, ,

House launching scene from the film “The Shipping News”

Moves are never fun in spite of what it might say on your U-Haul rental – “Adventures in Moving.” Hah! It doesn’t say what kind of adventures though. Broken china, strained backs and relationships, and an absolute, total lack of energy or enthusiasm for anything to do with the new home…at least for the next few days.

When you’re young, you move yourself and all your belongings because you can and probably can’t afford to hire someone to do it. When you get older, you hire someone to do it for you because you can now afford it and you probably can’t or least don’t want to do it.

Now imagine this: you’re a Newfoundlander and you want to move to a different part of the island. But you really, really, love the house you’re in. You know you’ll never find another like it and you do own it (that’s a plus.) And it’s winter. Geez. The trifecta of moving.

Do you call Allied Van Lines? Or do you call some friends with a truck? Ehh, yeah, sort of. What you do is what is commonly and historically known in Newfoundland as launching the house. (Since you don’t own the land, you’re not liable for leaving it behind. It’s the Crown’s land anyway.) Yes, pack up the house(!), lift it up and put it on a large purpose-built wood sled, hook up the men or horses or both, and pull that sucker across the ice in the harbor. Of course, if it’s not winter, you could float it across the harbor pulled by a boat. Get it to the new site and congratulations, you have now successfully launched a house. Think how good that will look on your resume.

It does pose some questions though: What schools do the kids go to? Are we still in the same time zone? Where’s the liquor store? These are all important questions that should be answered before one launches their home. Adventures in moving indeed.

“If the devil will take her…”

09 Monday Jan 2012

Posted by in Culture, Discovery, Humor, Music, Newfoundland, Observations, Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, ,

Living Planet, St. Johns, NFLD  It’s all about the music – the only “weapons” in this picture are musical instruments.

Imagine driving around for several thousand miles in silence. You could sing to yourself – that’s an option but one that runs out of novelty real fast. You could also play license plates by yourself -either you’ll always win or always lose; it’s your choice. Or you could go get some CD’s of local music. In Newfoundland, there is a wealth of musical ability. Newfoundlanders love to make music even if it’s just for themselves.

Newfoundland music is perhaps some of the best I’ve found for driving (and partying). Take your choice of upbeat, funny, rousing, sad, tender, raucous, historical, whatever. Largely based on a folk idiom with a strong Celtic influence, it’s almost impossible to sit still while listening. That said, it can sometimes make you drive a little faster, OK a lot faster, than you or the RCMP* would like.

But like any movie, a trip must, absolutely must, have it’s own soundtrack. And whether or not you sing along, and I admit I did, it has to reflect the trip. So much so that when you later hear a particular piece of music, it transports you right back there to that very time and spot.

There is no shortage of very talented groups recording in Newfoundland. The most popular and famous group is Great Big Sea who tours frequently in the US and Europe. But that’s only scratching the surface. Musicians like Amelia Curran and Ron Hynes speak with their own unique voice. Groups like Shanneyganock, The Navigators, The Once, The Dardanelles, The Fables, and Eventide helped make the miles go by so much easier and are a wonderful backdrop to the land and the road.

Being folk music, everything is fair game for a song. From “Cod Liver Oil” to “The Fellow from Fortune” to “The Scolding Wife” and so much more, it’s all there. To quote “The Scolding Wife” a favorite of mine and the ringtone on my phone for my wife (much to her dismay):

“And if the devil will take her, I’ll thank him for his pain, I swear to God I’ll hang meself, if I get married again.” Love you sweetie! I think I’m going to have to buy some flowers for this one!

* – RCMP – Royal Canadian Mounted Police or Mounties.

Man Cave by the sea.

27 Tuesday Dec 2011

Posted by in Culture, Discovery, Fish, Food, Humor, Language, Music, Sea, Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

New Year’s Eve in a shanty sounds a lot worse than it really is. Shanty doesn’t have the same connotation in rural Newfoundland as it does in the States. A shanty is the small building/house/cabin on the coast used by fishermen as a residence when going to and coming from the sea. It is for the most part a home-away-from-home. And oftentimes the subject of cute and quaint calendars and post cards of lands far-away.

But come the holidays and New Year’s Eve, all that changes. The shanty becomes the Newfoundland equivalent of a man-cave by the sea for the duration plus. And one can only speculate on behaviors conducted. The good news is that it’s usually far enough away from the children and pets.

Celebrations – oh, yes. Singing and dancing – yes b’y. Eating and drinking, why the hell not? Fishing – probably not much. But when it’s cold, windy, wet and/or snowy, and more, and the holidays to boot, why would you want to do anything but the aforementioned activities? Consequently, inebriation is often the result. A common comment then heard might be “Goin’ on a tear, me son?” translated as “partying with enthusiasm are we?” Count on it. After all, it is the new year.

“We’re not fulltime stupid.” Really?

22 Thursday Dec 2011

Posted by in Culture, Humor, Observations, Travel, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a Comment

Tags

,

One of the small pleasures in traveling is watching local television. Usually it’s some buffoonish weatherman trying out material for his audition reel. Other times it can be just the silliness of a marble-mouthed reporter unable to pronounce the name of a perp or a foreign town.

That said, I’ve nothing to say about Newfoundland TV. It’s pretty basic fare: comedies, which are actually rather clever and entertaining; the standard, low expectation cops and robbers shoot ‘em ups; news and weather; and of course the ubiquitous cable channels running infomercials for products of which no discernible need has ever been discovered.

However, because of cable and satellite TV, channels from other provinces can be watched. And because I was in Newfoundland, that was some of the electronic fodder to which I was subjected. I admit, I did it to myself, I was alone and the wine from the lobsters was gone.

So, on went the tube and down went my expectations until I stumbled upon a newscast on a channel from Hamilton, Ontario. It was nice, as Canada and Canadians are. This report had no stories of mayhem, political scandals, or even traffic jams. What it did have was a story featuring the mayor discussing a new curfew for teenagers. Apparently, there had been some problems and it had been decided by the town poobahs that a curfew would be just the ticket.

The reporter asked about certain things that might keep a teenager out after the curfew: would there be exceptions?

The mayor, straight-faced, serious as an IRS audit replied: “Of course, we’re not full time stupid.” Part-time, maybe?

Free Newfoundland!

02 Friday Dec 2011

Posted by in Culture, Fish, History, Newfoundland, Observations, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a Comment

Tags

from Living Planet, St. John’s, Nfld.

“Free Newfoundland” is not a coupon or a buy one, get one free deal. It was a light-hearted marketing piece that touched a few nerves. The “Free Newfoundland” (my quotation marks) movement isn’t a movement per se like the the very real separatist group in Quebec. Rather it is more of an attitude. Yes, there are those who still believe confederation should have never happened. And of course there are opposing views. The slogan itself was penned by Wallace Ryan in 1982 to promote and encourage Newfoundland nationalism. It is however currently seen on t-shirts, bumper stickers, and more around the island.

That the slogan has endured some thirty years is an indication of some still simmering dissatisfaction with confederation. It might just as well speak of a free Newfoundland or a freeing of Newfoundland from confederation.

In its history, Newfoundland has been an independent country and a colony of Great Britain. In 1949, Newfoundland voted to enter into confederation with Canada by a 51-49 vote. And culturally, it was probably closer than that. (Sort of like Gore-Bush.) Obviously, the suitors in this merger (not quite a blind date) hadn’t sought out the wisdom of a counselor – marriage or otherwise. This was the brainchild (hare-brained for some) of then Premier Joey Smallwood. Since then, it has been a source of friction between the parties – sometimes humorous, other times, ehhh, not so much.

Newfoundlanders believe that some of the source of their problems with the disappearance of fish is due to government meddling and mismanagement. Government is always an easy target and oftentimes correctly so. Being a fiercely independent people, there is an inherent skepticism about government and its efficacy. Funny how most people feel their country has a lock on those things. When things are beyond one’s control, it’s easy to see why the government is blamed – sometimes rightly, other times wrongly so.

But this is not really about government or blame, it’s about a Free Newfoundland.

Yes b’y!

Granny’s Well Turnings.

22 Tuesday Nov 2011

Posted by in Culture, Discovery, Local Art, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a Comment

Tags

Granny’s well turnings.

The sign said “Granny’s Well Turnings and Handcrafted Gifts.” So that was two more things I thought I needed to do: find out what a well turning was and meet Granny. Neither was what I thought and neither disappointed.

It was good to get out of the car and stretch my legs. Walking up to the house I was greeted by an elderly man, Bren, in work clothes. We exchanged greetings and introductions. He said I was the first one of the year. Anywhere else, I would have thought this to be the opening line in a bad horror movie in its undertones. Here it meant I was the first tourist of the year. Not surprising as it was still winter and most visitors wisely wait until the weather is a bit more clement.

He invited me into his house. Bren said he would have to get his wares out of the closet where they’d been in the off-season. We walked through his workshop where on the floor, all over in heaps and piles, were unfinished bowls and spindles and trinket boxes curing and drying before he could finish them. They came from burls he’d taken off trees. He said it was several years worth of work to do. (I did say he was elderly, didn’t I?)

Bren was and is your typical Newfoundlander – practical, unpretentious to a fault, funny, and most welcoming. And his work was beautiful. We talked some more; he wanted to know what I was doing up in Newfoundland and if I liked what I had seen. Oh, yes. I loved it. I told him where I was off to next and he asked me if I would be back his way after my trip when I returned to St. John’s, a couple of hours away. I told him I would try and get down to see him again. I would. Little did I know at the time but it would be the first of several return trips to visit with him.

Oh, by the way, there was no Granny, just Bren. And a lot of well turnings.

Scrunchions and my new BFF.

12 Saturday Nov 2011

Posted by in Culture, Fish, Food, Newfoundland, Observations, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a Comment

Tags

, ,

Pretty much every culture has a way of maximizing their foods and recycling heretofore inedible scraps of food detritus. And if it’s a fancy restaurant, they’ll give it a posh name and charge dearly for it. How else could one explain veal cheeks? Please do not confuse this with cod cheeks; the concept is the same, the cost is not.

This leads me to the ubiquitous Newfoundland delicacy know as the scrunchion. These are small pieces of pork fatback, that might normally be tossed away, but are fried until rendered and crispy. They’re often used as a flavoring or even a condiment over other foods such as fish or potatoes or the local favorite fish and brewis. For those out there with a theological or Quebecois bent, they are often called orielles de Christ or Christ ears. I’m not certain I want to know why.

 

And this, at my first lunch in Newfoundland, was when I was introduced to scrunchions. I was meeting for the first time the photographer who I had befriended by phone the year before when doing my research. I visited his studio and what I thought would be a cordial introduction turned into a 3.5 hour lunch and discussion. We photographers can talk! What a genuinely nice guy and a really good photographer. We went across the street to a local pub to have lunch. And there was my first encounter with scrunchions. They were sprinkled over my fish and chips. The F&C: good. Scrunchions: like fine scotch – an acquired taste. They were different. And that’s all I’m going to say on that at this time.

My new acquaintance was soon to become my new friend. His help and guidance was invaluable. I might still be up there now driving around, dodging moose, looking for who knows what (and I’m not saying that’s really a bad thing up there) if not for his direction. His wife was just plain charming. We got on so well, we met for drinks later that evening. I was experiencing the unbelievable but natural hospitality of Newfoundlanders. This was going to be great.

You want chips with that?

08 Tuesday Nov 2011

Posted by in Culture, Discovery, Food, Newfoundland, Observations, Travel, Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

,

Newfoundland is not like anywhere else. That’s a good thing. As I mentioned in an earlier post, it’s big – 41,000 square miles of cod-loving goodness. And traveling around the province in the small outports, one can get a real flavor for the island. But try and get something to eat and you’ll find the options limited, some familiar and some perhaps a bit odd. (My favorite was the industrial strength, chocolate-covered graham cracker cookies that stayed fresh for many days and miles.)

First of all, there are no small villages/towns with neighborhood Starbucks. If you walk into a small local grocery store, you likely will not find coffee: soda, yes; coffee, no.  That seems to be reserved for the TCH (Trans Canadian Highway) rest stops. And then, it’s usually Tim Horton’s. In real life, Tim was a hockey player in the NHL, playing for the Toronto Maple Leafs, NY Rangers, Pittsburgh Penguins, and the Buffalo Sabres. After he retired, he founded Tim Horton’s coffee and donuts which ARE infinitely better than DD, in my opinion and they open real early.

Photo – C.Meisterman

So you can’t get coffee off the beaten track which most of Newfoundland is… off the beaten track. But it seems you can always get chips of some sort. Wondrous, fantastical, otherworldly chips . One could feast all day on heart-arresting fare such as Fromage Mordant; Sweet Chili Heat (sort of sounds like a South American dancer!); Roast Chicken chips; Ketchup chips(!); Habanero chips; Chili Cheese Lime chips; Dill Pickle chips; Honey Mustard chips; Doritos 1st Degree Burn Blazin’ Jalapeno chips; Smoky Bacon chips; the punk-rock sounding Blair’s Death Rain (my favorite name) chips of various flavors – the name is enough to make one reconsider their own mortality; and one I won’t be trying next time I’m up there – Fries and Gravy chips! Actually, they might be pretty good.

So no coffee, but chips…as far as the eye can see.