It's back, baby!

With this new chapter in my life, I'm reviving this blog, "Up in the Great White North."  Perhaps that's because, having moved to St. John's, Newfoundland, I feel like I'm much more "up in" the great white North.  To me, St. John's is a more exotic location than Toronto as well, one that prompts reflection.

Downtown St. John's

 Generally, I feel great about where I am right now.  St. John's is the oldest English-speaking city in North America, a charming port city overlooking the Atlantic.  It's got a lot to offer in terms night life, theater, and music, and once Nicole arrives here, I look forward to it exploring it with her.  It's also got a small geographical footprint making it very walkable and bike-able, and the people here are friendly.  I'll have more to say about it throughout the course of this blog.  Nicole and I would welcome any visitors here.

Water Street in downtown.

I also like my new job.  The work is challenging, but such aspirations only hone my skills.  And I get along great with my co-workers.  It's a great environment.

The trip here was interesting, too.  It took me through Quebec and the Atlantic provinces, on to an 8-hour overnight ferry ride.  I was warned that north of Quebec City no one speaks English.  Naturally, it was well north of the city that my car gave me trouble.   And when the CAA truck pulled up, the first thing the driver said was, "I don't speak English.  Do you speak French?"  I had to shake my head.  But he helped me get the car started to my great relief, and I happily gave him a $10 tip.  (Contrary to a lot rumors, I found the Quebecois pretty friendly.)  Once I landed on Newfoundland, I immediately saw a moose.  (In Newfoundland, moose out number people and are involved in a lot of serious car accidents.)  Fortunately, it was beside the road and not looming over it.

And now, I must reflect on my car which got me here.  Arriving here in St. John's, the Firebird has completed a 3,300 mile trip from New Orleans.  The car's 42 years old.  It's got an engine that's quite historic and rare, only manufactured for two years.  That is, it was only manufactured for two years because back in the day the engine was a mechanical disaster, "the Temple of Doom" my mechanic called it.  But Eddie, that same mechanic, re-built the engine and clearly did a hell of a job.  And despite the rat-a-tat-tat of its overhead cam, it runs like a top.  I'd like to call Eddie and tell him how far his work has taken me, but sadly his excellent shop didn't survive Katrina.  Also, this 42 year old muscle car gets 20 miles per gallon on the highway!  There are far too many modern cars that can't match that.  So here's to Eddie and Francis who took such good care of my sweet ride!