We’re home after a delightful week in Newfoundland, a laid-back province in the true sense. To hurry and get things done is not in the Newfie’s psyche. They are friendly to a point of making the rest of us wonder if we’re taking life – and ourselves – too seriously.
Picking up where we left off on Fogo Island (Part Two), we caught the ferry back to Farewell, then northwest to Twillingate. My choice. Not a good one. So it’s the iceberg capital of the world, but not this time of the year. As for seeing puffins? Nope. Whales? What whales?
We headed down the TransCanada Highway to swing north and east to Trinity and a cozy inn called Fishers’ Loft. We checked in and drove into the village. If you’re looking for the perfect little fishing village, this is it.
We drove along narrow, winding streets with the colored wood houses, and stop off at the small harbor and the Dock cafe. We drank Quidi Vidi beer and I ate cod tongues with funny scrunchions made from bits of fried pork fat. Not everyone’s delight. Mine, yes.
This was Tuesday. Oops, Monday. We set off early for St. John’s, a beautiful city of high bare rocky hills and low valleys, bridges and small, tidy communities. Our boutique hotel, it seems, was once a meeting place for hookers and God only knows who else.
Must see(s). Signal Hill, overlooking St. John’s harbor, where Guglielmo Marconi received the first wireless transmission from 3,500 kms away. The oldest city in North America? So they say.
A short drive to Petty Harbor, itself a gem, and Chafe’s old log restaurant where we enjoyed a fresh salad and a bowl of mussels and clams and Sauvignon blanc. Roe started with a Quidi Vidi beer made from iceberg water. Honestly. Not sold out of province. Pity.
Author’s comment: The trips over. The memories won’t soon be forgotten. My favorite moment: looking out the wall of window in our room at the Fogo Inn, and down at waves crashing on the rocks below. (One of) Roe’s favorite moments: Biking alone on the ups and downs narrow roads on Fogo Island.
Our favorite meal: fresh pasta with mussels and shrimp at Tavola, a small, intimate, candle-lit Spanish restaurant not far from our St. John’s hotel. My second-most favorite: mussels and clams served in a small, enamel roasting pot at Chafe’s in Petty Harbor. We flew home Thursday, smiling all the way.
[When booking at Fogo Inn, insist on a second floor room.]