Wet socks chase rainbows

Sometimes I have to remind myself, firmly, of what I have done, instead of walking around with endless 'to do' lists in my head. In a new place is it easy to feel inadequate when there is so much to find out, so much to see, so many people to meet and lots of things to establish. So today I left aside the laptop for the morning, went on a short drive and long walk in the sunshine and then sat myself down at the institution that is Tim Hortons with a large cup of tea to write a list of all the I have done in my first week here, just to remind myself I don't have to do everything now. I won't bore you with it, but it calmed me down at least.

For the second time my trainers are now drying off very slowly in the misleading sunshine. I woke at 7.30am to a gleam through the blinds that told me it was already bright outside. I wanted to see Petty Harbour, the village that we'd reached the other day overland by trails. I knew I could walk from there along this wonderful coastline towards Cape Spear - the most Easterly point in North America. I forgot however, that spring takes a long time to come here and last night it was snowing when I left the gym and as I dropped off to sleep the radio was reporting an overnight low of -9C.

So instead of striking out immediately I bought a coffee in the cabin by the jetty of Petty Harbour and had a blether with the woman behind the counter. I forget still, the question 'and where are you to'. They don't mean at all where am I going, but rather where am I from. At least, that's how I think it works. I pictured a Newfoundlander meeting a Ugandan:

"and where are you to?"

"I'm on my way coming."

Apparently we all talk English.

I had a such a lovely chat with the lady over my coffee I completely forgot to pick up the postcards I'd just bought, but I'm sure if I go back in a week I'll find they've put them aside for me just in case I come in by again.

I wrote up my journal in the car and made more lists, because I do have plenty to do and let the sun rise a bit higher before heading out. I just love it here I have to say. I find it so calm. It reminds me of the north west of scotland, which I suppose it should as the rocks are all connected. The sea was mirrored blue and below a deep green and clear so I could see the rocks at the bottom of each geo, but like the sunshine, the sheen was misleading. Every now and than a wave would break heavy over a rock to remind me there was swell out there somewhere and with several nights of wind warnings this week, there had to be sea further out. The horizon was tell tale raggedy and I'm not sure I'd have wanted to go very far offshore in a small boat.

The trail wound through old forest and dorment blueberry shrubs which still had their rusty autumn colours and finally cleared so I was just walking along the edge of the rocks, feeling like it was the edge of the world. I can't wait to see the icebergs passing from Labrador and a whale fluke. Then I think I'll begin to feel I'm really here somehow. I hit upon a small stream which I couldn't leap and as the ice was still forming on the plants beside it, I didn't much feel up to taking my socks and trainers off to get across so it became my turnaround. I wasn't going to get to Cape Spear today on foot anyway, it would be a full day to get there and back, but I'm glad I was stopped because I followed the stream instead and it ended in a pretty waterfall into the sea. It is cold still. The fringe of splatters were frozen as was the sea spume washed up at high water. The strong sunlight made all the icicles sparkle and formed a delicate rainbow through the spray. A little treasure for my viewing. 

People have been wonderful. Newfoundland is famed for its hospitality and it certainly has not let me down one bit. I realise I have to stop asking everyone if they are from Newfoundland. Of course they are, almost always. I got used in Alaska to everyone having come in from 'away' and partly attributed their positive nature to being proactive enough about life to have got themselves there. Newfoundland somehow is humanising. It is easy to remember here how little a gesture needs to be to make the difference to how a place feels, because people are forever making small but welcome gestures.

I baked some shortbread and went across to see the neighbours who I had met on Hogmanay. After they placed me, we had a long chat over another cup of tea about politics as Canada is in the middle of an election period. Then they invited me to join them at their son's saxaphone recital tonight. It's part of his music degree that he has to give a show, so I think that will be really fun.

But that will be my second concert and I've only been here 8 days. On Wednesday I went to meet a communications company I had contacted through a PR firm in Aberdeen. I was hoping they might give me some pointers on what the local industry is like, instead they completely opened their doors. First of all, the entire PR team met me, then they gave me an hour briefing on the major industries, who's who, what jobs come up where, what kind of salary scales I can expect. The girls were on their phones texting people to ask if they were still recruiting for positions they'd hear of and by the end I said to them, I'm going to feel I've let you all down if I don't find work now.

I wrote a thank you email when I got home and in reply had an invite to their coporate suite at the local civic centre come ice hockey rink come music arena, Mile One. It was some guy I'd never heard of, Jackson Browne, but now know co-wrote Take It Easy for the Eagles. I went along and a chance to meet some more people and get to feel a bit more orientated to how things are. Most importantly, the week has just made me feel right at home. I won't struggle to be here if I can make the leap jobwise.

Part of me is aware I could just be casting rainbows through everything I see just now because I want to feel I belong. Scotland is still intoxicatingly beautiful and I have a strong sense of home that I hope I never leave behind, but this place feels like home should be and can be but somehow it is harder to connect to. Didn't we too have communities where everyone played something and storytelling was central? Perhaps I'm just nostalgic for something that never was, but I like to be in a corporate setting were people are telling me how important community and landscape are to them, they get misty eyed talking about the wilderness of Labrador and explain that music is absolutely central to their lives. I get the feeling people do their work and do it right and then get on with the most important parts of living. I like that the lawyer across the road plays in a band in the pub in town on a Saturday night and that is not in anyway unusual. No doubt there will be plenty obstacles to come so for now I'm just enjoying the journey of where all these trails are leading to, which right now could be anywhere between here and Goose Bay and that's all fine with me!