St. John’s

Our last day was simple and nice. We walked the downtown, browsed shops, chatted with the woman running the art galley, ate fish and chips, saw a hundred high school students bunching into the grocery store for lunch break (Zenny eyeballed the teen cliques and wondered which one was hers, finally deciding that she wouldn’t want to wait in line for her whole lunch break, so her group was probably laying around on the grass somewhere on campus), and we hunted out a lobster. The couple at the table next to us were teachers/kayak-rental owners from Ontario. They said they were relocating, but maybe not to St John’s, because it was too busy, like a small Toronto. That was amazing to us; our one small island has twice as many people crammed onto it as the entire province of Newfoundland and Labrador. Yikes. The couple gave Zenny a fresh oyster, and the table on the other side stopped to watch her try it for the first time, cheering when she liked it.

This has been a really good trip, and we’re so sad it’s over already. 

Heading to the airport. Back into the pressure cooker.

Gen Alpha goblin face

Styrofoam under sprayed concrete! Architecture of lies! This is why you don’t hire the lowest bidder.