By Request: Nacho Libre

Thursday, June 29, 2006 7:01 PM Heidi wrote to Dave:
I can't believe I'm emailing this but... We're going to Nacho Libre tonight. Would you like to see it again? We saw Superman last night. I think I'd call it Mediocre Man or Okay Man or Maybe We Should Have Gone To Nacho Libre Instead Man. We're going to the 9:40 one at the mall if you'd like to join us. H

On 6/29/06 7:37 PM, Dave wrote:
Are you sure you're ready for Nacho? Be warned: there are numerous, completely unnecessary fart noises, and a whole lot of utter stupidity. I learned something about myself when I watched it: when it comes to movies, I am an aficionado of both the high brow and the low brow. It's the middle ones I hate. And I must say, though the music is fabulous, that Nacho Libre is about the lowest brow you can get (like neanderthal brow, or gorilla brow). Personally, I loved it, but please don't take that as a recommendation! D

Thursday, June 29, 2006 8:44 PM, Heidi wrote:
> Are you sure you're ready for Nacho?

No... No, I am not. After the roofing, siding, plumbers and baseball games, I'm starting to feel like a Resident Alien in Guy-ville so maybe it won't be so bad. Moreover, we have free passes that will expire tonight and what else is there? Garfield? In the domestic battle of rhetoricians, Dale had "But Dave said Nacho Libre was great!" All I could muster was "But The Lake House has Keanu Reeves." Even I wasn't convinced so Nacho Libre it is. Have fun at Johnny's. See ya, H

On 6/29/06 7:37 PM, Dave wrote:

> PS. (All that said, if you go see it, I think you should publish your review on your blog).

Hmm... OK. I'm ok with taking blog requests so here it is.

Last night, Dale and I had movie passes that expired at midnight so thought we'd go see a film. It was slim pickins at the various theatres and so we ended up going to see "Nacho Libre," in part upon Dave's recommendation. At first, the fun part of going to see Nacho Libre was listening to Dale say "Naaaaaaaaachoooo Leeeeeeeeeee-brraayyyyyy" over and over again in a monster-truck-rally announcer voice. We even roped Tamsin and Danny into coming with us. We gathered nervously at the theatre where we all said "what exactly are we going to see?" but within a few minutes of the movie, we were all laughing and we never stopped. It was an unlikely kind of funny-- not over the top humour but really subtle silly things that built up over the movie. Tamsin admitted her stomach hurt after Nacho's song and I really liked Nacho's wardrobe (especially his ill-fitting powder blue civilian wear). All in all, it was a fun little film but I think the secret of it is to expect very little and then be open to its quirky weirdness. As Dave's email notes, it doesn't try to be high brow or even middle brow and that's ok. It does what it does well.
The night before we had gone to see Superman Returns which had some nice moments but was sadly a bit of a yawner. About half way through Nacho Libre, I began thinking about how chance pairings of films can happen and how odd it is to see two films about men in capes in less than 24 hours. Being a recovering English scholar, I started thinking about the potentials for conference papers in this pairing. You have to know that some how, somewhere, someone's going to get up at a conference to read a paper called "Superman versus Nacho Libre: (Re)(De)Constructing American Manhood in Post 9-11 America Superhero Narratives." Because I have witnessed such things I can see it in painful clarity: conference goers will shift in their uncomfortable seats, furrow their brows in mock concentration and politely listen. Perhaps, if they're friendly, they'll nod once or twice. After the conference, this paper will go on a CV for eternity and make the departmental newsletter; a full article will be developed in the next academic year and might even make the rounds of journals until the author grows weary of reading reviews that say "who is this Nacho Libre?" or "I take issue with your simplistic revisionist comparison of Nacho Libre with Che Guevara." Thus, it's probably best that this film not become the core of someone's scholarly outpourings but you know that somewhere someone will attempt it.
I have no idea what "Nacho Libre" has to contribute to American culture except for 90 minutes of well-crafted silliness and that's perfectly fine. I think America needs more silliness lately. If you don't go see it, at least say "Naaaaaaaaachoooo Leeeeeeeeeee-brraayyyyyy" out loud a few times; that's fun too.

Canadian Lit and Crabtree & Evelyn

This weekend we were in Stratford for our friends' wedding-- it was a beautiful day and a beautiful wedding. Adding to the great weekend was our stay in a very nice small inn. It had all the things that make me addicted to lovely hotels: real art by local artists on the walls, walls the perfect shade of blue, linens of a quality I can only aspire to own one day, Crabtree & Evelyn soaps, and fresh cookies waiting for us upon arrival. The coolest part of this inn (and, I think, the real reason I chose it) was that their website advertised "In-room Canadian book library." I was intrigued. Sure enough, as promised, our room had a selection of 5 or 6 recent Canadian novels on the desk. This is a great way to introduce people to Canadian fiction and Canadian writers. I really think it's time someone other than the Gideons put books in hotels, don't you?

It better not be Prof. Snape

From CBC.ca At least two characters will die in the final instalment of her bestselling Harry Potter series, author J.K. Rowling has revealed.

Horseshoes and Hand Grenades

My father often says, "close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades." And, indeed, he's usually right about this.
Some might say that close doesn't count in the Stanley Cup: you win it or you don't. However, I contend that the Oilers' closeness to the Stanley Cup actually does count for something. The Oilers didn't win Game 7 but over the past weeks, they gave us some of the best hockey we've seen in years. They inspired a city to be proud of itself. They showed the league that small market Canadian teams are powerful entities that define what hockey means in this nation. And, above all, they showed what class is by refusing to dishonour other nations' anthems. Finally, they showed all of us that you can't discount anyone. The Oilers barely made the play-offs and people wrote them off at the beginning of their first few series. My father also says, "it isn't over til it's over" and the Oilers proved that over and over again. In terms of horseshoes and hand grenades, my father is a flexible man and I think he'd agree with me that sometimes close does actually count for something. In the case of the Oilers, close counts, at least for this fan. You all but won the Cup and that's more than we could have imagined six months ago. Thanks for some amazing hockey Oilers! You remain my good and virtous Oilers. And, besides, I've watched this team enough over the years to know hell hath no fury like the Oilers scorned. Y'all better watch out next year...

Hockey gods, make it so.

and

My very first patrons!

Yesterday I hit my upload limit on Flickr (which I've never done before) and didn't get much farther than thinking "I should really upgrade to Flickr Pro." Today, I got notice that the kind and lovely Danny and Tamsin upgraded my account last night. Bless them. I think they're my first patrons. So, thanks to them, I've been uploading and organzing happily this afternoon as the temperature outside crept up to an unpleasant high of 31oC (or 34 if you believe in the Humidex). I've set up a new set of NY photos; Newfoundland's will be coming when the scanning muse hits me next. Re my Flickr site: chances are, if you're reading this, I've already signed you on to view my Flickr site. If not, let me know. Oh, one more thing. Go good and virtous Oilers! Go!

Farewell Mr Dressup!

This just in from the CBC: no more Mr. Dressup reruns.
"The tickle trunk will be closed for the last time in September, as CBC officially retires Mr. Dressup. As of July 3, the show moves from every weekday at 11 a.m. to Sunday morning only and the last broadcast of the much-loved children's show takes place Sept. 3."
It's a sad day in Canada. I adored Mr Dressup! I remember a few years ago, someone who might prefer not to be named and I were watching a show about Canadian TV shows for children. They interviewed a half dozen people of varying ages about Mr Dressup. Person after person got choked up talking about how much they loved Mr Dressup, Casey and Finnegan. I looked over at my unnamed companion and both of us had tears too. Although I've not watched it in years, I'm pleased to see it's on DVD.

Colm Toibin wins Impac Award

I was thrilled to see Toibin has won the Impac for his fabulous novel The Master. His previous book The Blackwater Lightship is also amazing and worth checking out. I was pleased to see Toibin's nod to Alistair MacLeod's near-perfect novel No Great Mischief, which won the prize in 2001. I didn't know until just now that Thomas Wharton, a fellow UofA English grad, was shortlisted for the prize for his novel The Logogryph; excellent news!

"Hello Cleveland!" and Other Desultory Thoughts of the Week

Somehow, being on holiday is freeing my mind up considerably. I wish I could say I'm writing pages and pages on my novel or developing a solution for the shrinking polar ice cap with this new found mental space. I must admit to be rather alarmed at what my unoccupied brain amuses itself with (see the last posting, for example). Since I've actually had 3 requests for my adventures at the drycleaners (one even seemed almost sincere), I'll offer you a few of these random thoughts since not a lot happens at the drycleaners. You may join me in thinking it's time I went back to work.

1. Physics and my Discman. In the past week, my poor Sports Discman has had two rather unfortunate tumbles; in both cases, it emerged without a scratch though one was a very close call. These mishaps have, in an uncharacteristic mental move, led me to consider the physics of discmans. Since I failed Physics 10 (actually, I dropped it before I could officially fail it), I cannot provide an accurate answer to the following physics questions I've been pondering. I offer these questions to you in case you're really bored at work. Question A: After being dropped from a height of 4 feet onto a treadmill moving at 6 K/hr, at what velocity does a Discman hit the wall 5 feet away? All I know is it made a spectacular "wwwwwwwhhapp!" sound, followed by a small whimper from me. Miraculously, its only injury was a slightly dislodged battery which was easily remedied. Question B: How much harder would I have had to accidentally fling my discman out of my backpack while dislodging my bike lock so that, after bouncing three times, it would land under a moving car not just in the intersection? Drivers in neighboring cars watched its trajectory and joined me in saying, "ooohhh...." as it landed a mere foot away from a car's tire. Again, not a scratch on it and it started up cheerfully as always. Like I said, I have no idea how one might answer these questions but I have resolved that my impulse to bring my trusty tank-like discman to the gym rather than my iPod is a very good one indeed.

2. The weight room at my gym pipes in 80s music. At one point I wondered if Steve Perry from Journey is Alvin the Chipmunk all grown up. Perhaps a far-fetched idea but next time you hear Journey, think about it.

3. Riddle me this. Last night Dale and I went to see The Bottle Rockets and Bobby Bare, Jr at the Magic Stick in Detroit. It was a 10$ cover and there's a bar downstairs. Why do people pay the 10$ and then spend the _entire_ show yelling over the music? Why not go downstairs? And, why, after the band dedicates a song to "the pretty ladies in the front row who talked through the first two songs" do they continue? Why? (why why Delilah)

4. Add to my list of missing quotations from film, anything from Spinal Tap. There's always the classics like, "These go to eleven" or "You can't really dust for vomit." I might nominate, "Hello Cleveland!" or "It's like, how much more black could this be? and the answer is none. None more black."

"There's no basement in the Alamo"

Here's a website my Mum sent "for your Sunday amusement." AFI's 100 YEARS...100 MOVIE QUOTES As predicted, it did amuse me on this fine sunny Sunday. However, as I emailed my mum, I was dimayed at the absence of quotations from Pee Wee's Big Adventure. IMDB's site has a wealth of them. Perhaps there aren't any on this list because it's impossible to choose just one (she says with naive and perhaps misguided optimism)? Who can resist, "Biker #1: Did anybody tell you that this is the private club of the Satan's Helpers? Pee-wee: Nobody hipped me to that, dude." Or, what about this, "Texan: What's your name? Pee-wee: I don't remember. Texan: Where are you from? Pee-wee: I don't remember. Texan: Do you remember anything? Pee-wee: I remember... the Alamo. [Texans cheer]." Ah, Pee Wee's Big Adventure... it sure makes my Top 100 list.

How did I do without a phrase like this before?

This just in from Alec: "Phrase of the Day: to pop one's clogs"
pop, v.1 17. trans. colloq. (chiefly Brit.) [Perh. after sense 8, although cf. also sense 9a.] to pop one's clogs: to die. Also fig.: to cease to exist.
 
1970 Pick of Punch 186 He was forced to retire in 1933 after a disastrous Catholic/Protestant punch-up among the bugs. He's just popped his clogs. 1976 Times 14 Dec. 10/4 When she pops her slender clogs in next week's concluding part, who knows but that I may not shed a tear myself? 1983 G. MACDONALD FRASER Pyrates vi. 108 It's either join us or pop your clogs. 1993 T. BARNES Taped (BNC) 127 ‘So is the company going bust?’ ‘Oh no, nothing like that. TVL's got problems, but no one says it's going to pop its clogs.’ 2003 Independent on Sunday 19 Oct. (Life Etc section) 2/4 There's been precious little monumental waywardness in literary circles since Hemingway popped his clogs.

Feeling glum about the Oilers?

Dale found this Oilers Fanimals website that should revive your team spirit.

Word of the Day: Try This at Home!

Since I've already outed myself as a nerd, I really shouldn't worry about exposing the depths of my nerdiness. Nevertheless, I hesitate to share the fact that I do subscribe to the Word of the Day listserv. Today's word is particularly lovely so I'll just have to bite the nerdy bullet. Honorificabilitudinity (ON-uh-rif-i-kay-bi-li-too-DIN-i-tee-), a noun meaning Honorableness. [From Medieval Latin honorificabilitudinitas, from Latin honor.] Another form of this, honorificabilitudinitatibus (27 letters), is the longest word Shakespeare ever used. It comes out of the mouth of Costard, the clown, in Love's Labour's Lost: "I marvel thy master hath not eaten thee for a word;/ for thou art not so long by the head as/ honorificabilitudinitatibus: thou art easier/ swallowed than a flap-dragon." Use it in a sentence-- I double dog dare you.

Day 7: Ode to Newfoundland: “We love thee wind-swept land/ We love thee, we love thee.”

I write this from our car; we’re driving back to Windsor from the Toronto Airport. I feel like a total nerd opening up my laptop on the highway but we’ve been sitting almost stationary on the 401 for almost an hour. I fear there's a bad accident ahead and hope I am mistaken. I’ve been sitting here thinking about our trip for almost that whole hour. It already seems like a dream so I’m hoping writing this will be a way of making it all seem real. Just as last week I marveled at being one place and then another radically different place a few hours later, I’m feeling the same way right now. This trip has been dreamlike; I think both of us are wondering if we dreamed it all.

In my last entry, I mentioned that we got tickets for a chamber opera. We knew very little about it but thought it sounded interesting and we had nothing else planned. As we picked up our tickets, the volunteer asked us "who we had" in the show. She seemed surprised when we said no one. It became quickly apparent to us that we might have been the only people in the almost sold out auditorium who were not related to a chorister. I think we were both a bit nervous that we’d wandered into, well, you know the kind of events only parents and grandparents attend. We had no idea that we’d be treated to one of the most moving theatrical events we’ve ever been to. As the website describes “Ann and Seamus” is a chamber opera (music and libretto by Stephen Hatfield) based on a verse novel by Kevin Major which is based on a true story. In 1828, Ann Harvey, a 17 year old Newfoundlander, and her family rescued 168 people who had been shipwrecked. The story is compelling but the staging of this opera is even more amazing. The performance began with a panel discussion wherein participants talked about the music and staging of this event. It was performed by two casts of 55 choristers ranging in age from 7 to 17 (that’s 110 kids!); they had two complete casts who each performed two nights so that more children could be involved in this tremendous opportunity. They also talked about how the choristers would form the set, the props, the characters: there were 5 or 6 colours of simple costumes each with a small sheer cape in the same colour as their costume. As I re-read the program, I see the colours were inspired by the paintings of Christopher Pratt (remember this). These simple but malleable costumes allowed choristers to be rocks, storms, water, waves, boats or even characters seamlessly and fluidly. The music was incredible, the performers top notch and the staging evocative and original: the performance was stellar. The other moving part of this event was the impulse behind the performance. The producer and musical director, Susan Knight, talked about the need for the young people of Newfoundland and Labrador to learn about their history, learn about courage and learn about leadership through participating in this fabulous experience. The performance ended with cast and audience singing the Newfoundland anthem. It was happenstance that we ended up there but it was a moving ending to the last evening of our trip. I don’t think either of us wanted go to sleep since we didn’t want our last day in Newfoundland to end.

We’re at highway speeds again… more later (PS: Dale is, of course, driving in case you’re worried)

Later: On our final morning, we packed up our lovely room and had a hard time saying goodbye to the very kind staff at our B&B (it was recommended by Julia’s mum and I can’t recommend it highly enough either). Michelle said, “I’m going to miss you two” and the feeling was certainly mutual. I thoroughly enjoyed everyone we met there. Dale and I both felt like we were leaving friends; we’d have liked to have said goodbye to Ally too. We had a bit of time left and I had film left in my camera so we headed back to The Rooms since we both wanted to see the sound installation (or ‘sonic sculpture’ as someone called it) and I wanted to get a photo of the view of the harbour I’d described earlier. Happily, the night before, there was an opening of Christopher Pratt’s traveling exhibit that I’d read about in the Globe last year and also declined seeing when we were in the National Gallery in Ottawa this fall. I remember the review in the Globe saying that there is more to Pratt’s work than initially meets the eye and I found this to be true. I was also very happy that I saw this exhibit here, rather than in Ottawa last November. I’m not sure I would have understood or appreciated his work as much. Seeing his paintings after seeing the Newfoundland landscape filled in a lot of pieces for me and I became a huge Pratt fan after seeing this show. Having seen some of the Newfoundland landscapes made me see these paintings differently, and his works made me re-vision what I’d seen over the past week. As I looked at Pratt’s paintings, I knew we’d be heading out to the airport within the hour and so going to this exhibit was sort of a farewell to Newfoundland. Knowing this made some of his quotations resonate with me: “I have always had a sense that there is an immense presence in ordinariness, in the dignity of things that have nothing going for them beyond the fact of their existence”; and “I knew very early on that the word ‘place’ had many overtones, that there are places of the spirit, soul, imagination— of fantasy and nightmare— places of the mind.” I scribbled down these quotations from the exhibit cards—they seemed a perfect closure and sendoff for this fabulous week.

As our plane took off and I looked down at the cliffs, I felt like I was leaving home; it’s an odd sensation to feel after only being in a place for one week. We left feeling like we were not only leaving a place and a space we learned to love but were also leaving some wonderful friends. I also left feeling like you’re supposed to after a journey— utterly transformed and amazed by the experience. I’m writing this from my upstairs office at home now and on my way up, I looked at the stones I collected from St Vincents. I put them on the ledge by the stairs so each day they’ll be there as a reminder of a magical time and place.

Anyway, that’s all folks. Thanks for reading and for sending your nice comments. I’m getting my (gulp) 8 rolls of film developed tomorrow and hope to have some photos of New York and Newfoundland up on my Flickr site soon. I think all of you have passwords to my Flickr site—if not, let me know and I’ll set you up.

Also, in response to the kind visitor to Heidi’s Café who said, “and i WOULD be interested the continuing adventures of dale and heidi (esp. when you go to the drycleaners... that's great stuff)”—umm, sorry, that’s probably not going to happen. Today’s entry would have been called “Oh! So that’s what happens when you don’t put the coffee filter in the coffee machine” or “Hmm… who knew that 12 cups of grounds laden coffee silently spewing from the coffee filter-less machine could fill my entire kitchen counter unbeknownst to me as I read the paper in the next room?” Besides, gentle reader, don’t you get enough of those tales in my inter-inning (and, ok, intra-inning) chatter at the ballpark?

Day 7: The physics of hiking: what goes down must also come back up again

Today is our last real day to do much of anything here. I’m trying not to think about leaving but did spot a nice looking hotel that offers monthly rates—it’s very tempting though I’m not sure the cats or cat sitters would appreciate that very much. It’s a grey and foggy day here and every once and a while I could see my breath. This morning, we set out to do the last leg of our hike from the other day but the fog was so thick we decided we’d not see much at all so did a bit of driving, picked up some more lovely stones and then went back to St Johns to pick up some tickets for a chamber opera performance we read about. While Dale was doing that, I took some pictures of the above mentioned Newfoundland dog sculpture. As I approached, I was pleased to see an elderly couple patting its head and talking to it as I had done a few days ago. They were speaking a foreign language but using my rudimentary knowledge of linguistics I was able to translate their sentence. They were saying, “Ooh, who’s the cute Newf?”
We also thought it would be nice to go back to Signal Hill since it wasn’t as blustery a day as our first day up there. While atop Signal Hill, I stared across and noticed how The Rooms seem to dwarf all other structures on the horizon. I see how this structure has caused controversy; it really is massive and, apparently, over budget. We also noticed a trail that took you down to some pretty spectacular places so we thought we’d go down. And, while down there, we thought we’d go a bit further. And then a bit further. And, then, well, we wondered if we should go ahead or back. I figured we were half way so why not finish the loop. [Note to my Mum: stop reading here] I had forgotten, until we got to it, that the guidebook warns “If you do the complete walk, there are numerous sections where only 1.5 m of terra firm and an iron chain hammered into the rock separate you from a 61 m drop.” [Note to my Mum: ok, you can pick up again here]. Oddly, my fear of heights didn’t kick in—perhaps because the view was so lovely. I had also forgotten (or neglected to consider) that when you park your car at the top of a hill and then descend that hill, you must climb that hill again. Stupidly, I’d not taken the rocks out of my pocket before we left. My guide book says there are 896 steps descending so the climb back was a bit of an awakening. But, the view from the trail was worth any sore muscle that may ensue. Any caloric benefit of this hike was quickly negated by lunch. Dale was finally able to find his holy grail lunch called the Jiggs Dinner and I had some fish and chips. Tomorrow will probably be my last entry; it’s been such a fantastic trip, it’s hard to believe it’s real.

Day 6: Step Four: Thank the driver

Prefatory Note: I really didn’t mean to write in this blog every day. However, each day I’ve received an email or IM from someone asking about the next installment. You’re a demanding lot (especially she who wrote “We’re addicted to your travel blog” and then suggested I quit my new job and not come home at all). Thanks— thought, it’s nice to know there’s an audience. Rest assured, I won’t be doing this once I return home. Can you imagine? “Today I went to the bank and paid our utility bill and my cell phone bill. I then stopped by the drycleaner. After that I went to the gym where I burned 640 calories…Oh, and it was trash day so dragged this bins to the corner.”

Dale and I have both been amazed by the kind welcome we’ve felt everyday we’ve been here and everywhere we’ve been. This morning, I was reflecting upon the kind people of Newfoundland and, mid-reflection, I saw a street sign that seemed to make sense of it all. The sign had 4 steps for safe pedestrian crossing: 1. Put arm out into the street; 2. Step off sidewalk 3. Wait for cars to stop. 4. Thank the driver. Thank the driver! I love that “thank the driver” made it through whatever city committee is responsible for making road signs and that politeness was determined to be a rule of the road. Even more miraculous is that drivers actually stop (even if you don’t hold your arm out into the motorway like you’re walking a giant invisible dog). Niceness was the thought of the day for me. In a shop we stopped at this afternoon (silly me to think you can just pop in and out of shops!), the shopkeeper chatted with us for about ½ an hour. She told us that a tourist last summer told her that upon arriving in St John’s, he had mistaken a private residence for a B&B. The owner of the house invited him in, gave him some tea, gave him a tour of their house and then took him to the B&B. It doesn’t sound all that far-fetched at all.

Perhaps my meditation on kindness came from last night. Last night, certainly confirmed our sense of the friendliness of Newfoundlanders; everyone we’ve met seems committed to ensuring we have a fun, educational and enjoyable trip. Last night we returned to the bar were we met the New Zealanders and had $3 Guinness and 2 for $5 bottled beer. Ally, the cute bartender-ess, greeted us like long lost friends when we walked in. She introduced us to various people in the bar and told us about the rest of our New Zealand friends’ evening in St John’s. We told her we were going to see Ron Hynes at the Rose and Thistle and she told us about a couple who go to almost all of his shows. After our Guinness, we headed off to The Ship to hear some music. I don’t think I mentioned this but bars in St. John’s are all non-smoking; I love being able to go hear some music and still be able to breathe. It’s an amazing experience and I’m excited that Ontario is, as of today, also non-smoking. I raise this because Ally told us that, if we wanted to, after seeing Ron Hynes, we could come back to her bar with take-out coffee cups from the café across the street. She’d fill them with Guinness if we wanted: “That way you can drink and smoke and you won’t get a ticket for consuming alcohol in public. And if the cops start to hassle you, you just drop the cup and say, ‘oops, I just dropped my coffee.’” Seeing as we’re nonsmokers, it’s not something we’d take her up on but still I was touched by her generosity of spirit. I pass this tip onto you in case you’re in St. John’s and want to drink and smoke on the streets. We left there and then walked to the Ship. After a set or two of music, we headed over to the Rose and Thistle—passing Ally’s bar where she was standing outside. She yelled “Hi guys!!!” from across the street and we exchanged waves.

We did see the famous Ron Hynes. He is a definite institution here and for good reason. He’s one of those rare singer songwriters in the Ian Tyson, Tom Russell, John Hiatt vein. It was a great show; I expect you’ll be able to hear some of his most recent album on Dale’s radio show next week. Apparently, he’s been playing around here for 30 years. One person I talked with sang along to all of his songs and confessed she’s been following him for most of those 30 years. After the first few songs, a man came over and invited us to join him and his wife: “Ally told us you’d be here.” Ah, Ally, bless her heart. This was the couple she told us about and I see she told them about us. They were both very interesting and kind and inquired into our trip and offered advice about what to do and where to go. This is what I was saying about the kindness and generosity extended to us by everyone.

This morning we were a bit tired from a late night and our long hike yesterday. It was also rainy and grey and thus seemed to be a perfect day just to wander around St. John’s. We started off going to The Rooms, which is a spectacular new building (opened in June 2005) that is a combination Museum, Art Gallery and Provincial Archives. Since all three of those institutions are dear to my heart, I’m thrilled to see a government putting funding toward these groups and, more importantly, funding a forward thinking and impressive piece of architecture that should serve Newfoundlanders for generations. You can see this building from numerous points in St John’s and I like the symbolism of that. I also like the fact that the building has expansive windows that allow you to view the city and harbour as a work of art or a museum exhibit. I like how The Rooms and the city are synergistically connected in a visual way; I hope it’s a metaphor for the actual relationships.

We saw two really great exhibits. One was one I kept missing in other cities and was glad to finally catch up to it here: Janet Cardiff’s “Forty-Part Motet” which is a really evocative sound installation.
The other is Douglas Coupland’s “Play Again” which, come to think of it, has some interesting connections with the Cardiff exhibit—though, it was about words rather than sounds.
Tomorrow’s our last real day to do things—I’m already feeling sad about leaving. Upon hearing we were going to Newfoundland, my brother Paul’s prediction has come true: “You’ll love it; you won’t want to leave.” Anyway… will write more tomorrow. PS, if anyone knows why Newfoundland time is half an hour different rather than an hour, I’d be interested in knowing why.