Day 4 (3/4): Life on the Rock
After a brief prelude roaming the "MUNnels" connecting the buildings of the Memorial University of Newfoundland, I connected to the Confederation Building, coincidentally on the opening day of the Spring Session of the Assembly.
(Brief history lesson: Until 1949, Newfoundland was an independent British colony. A 1932 financial crisis created by debt from a trans-dominion railroad and World War I caused the citizenry to storm the old Assembly building, ransacking the librarian's on-site apartment and causing the premier to flee out the back. The Crown ultimately decided that the colony could no longer independently function, and two subsequent votes led to Newfoundland joining Canada.)
I moved on down the hill to the Fluvarium (from the Latin, fluvius: river), a museum dedicated to hydrobiology which, thanks to the neighboring creek allows for a fish-eye view of the water habitat. Then, instead of taking a bus back, I hiked the north half of the Long Pond Trail, a 1.1-mile hike through the woods back to MUN's medical campus. (It was well-enough trafficked to not get lost along the way.)
Spending all that time in the cold zapped my iPhone battery, so I had to do a little bit of hunting around for The Pantry, which is run by the province's Autism Society and operated by those on the spectrum. The soup was too hot, was just right after the mile hike.
With my sightseeing clear for the day, I took the bus back down to the mall and caught the Academy Award-winning Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse in IMAX and then returned home.
Dinner was not uninteresting.
Upon my tour guide's request, I went to Ches' Fish & Chips, roughly a five-minute walk away. Once there, I experienced a blank menu page (waiter: "we removed that"), a couple arguing over who sang "Dock Of The Bay" (both were right, though Michael Bolton wasn't singing the original), and the discovery that Ches' restroom was functionally unisex (with no Gents, I was directed to the Ladies').
Returning home, my hostess Sheridan had dinner cooking on the stove, but after several minutes she didn't come downstairs. With haze starting to waft throughout the downstairs, I took the pot off and then calmly texted her the situation. She profusely apologized (and is still apologizing) for her distracted cooking, but we're both grateful for calm cool heads.
(Brief history lesson: Until 1949, Newfoundland was an independent British colony. A 1932 financial crisis created by debt from a trans-dominion railroad and World War I caused the citizenry to storm the old Assembly building, ransacking the librarian's on-site apartment and causing the premier to flee out the back. The Crown ultimately decided that the colony could no longer independently function, and two subsequent votes led to Newfoundland joining Canada.)
I moved on down the hill to the Fluvarium (from the Latin, fluvius: river), a museum dedicated to hydrobiology which, thanks to the neighboring creek allows for a fish-eye view of the water habitat. Then, instead of taking a bus back, I hiked the north half of the Long Pond Trail, a 1.1-mile hike through the woods back to MUN's medical campus. (It was well-enough trafficked to not get lost along the way.)
Spending all that time in the cold zapped my iPhone battery, so I had to do a little bit of hunting around for The Pantry, which is run by the province's Autism Society and operated by those on the spectrum. The soup was too hot, was just right after the mile hike.
With my sightseeing clear for the day, I took the bus back down to the mall and caught the Academy Award-winning Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse in IMAX and then returned home.
Dinner was not uninteresting.
Upon my tour guide's request, I went to Ches' Fish & Chips, roughly a five-minute walk away. Once there, I experienced a blank menu page (waiter: "we removed that"), a couple arguing over who sang "Dock Of The Bay" (both were right, though Michael Bolton wasn't singing the original), and the discovery that Ches' restroom was functionally unisex (with no Gents, I was directed to the Ladies').
Returning home, my hostess Sheridan had dinner cooking on the stove, but after several minutes she didn't come downstairs. With haze starting to waft throughout the downstairs, I took the pot off and then calmly texted her the situation. She profusely apologized (and is still apologizing) for her distracted cooking, but we're both grateful for calm cool heads.