Sherrie dragged me around the whole world to get to Newfoundland, her storm blown home in the North Atlantic. The good news is: We made it.
Then the hard part was to start: Sherrie decided I needed to experience the Newfie way. I became very scared. Apparently they have some crazy ass (to say it in Sherrie’s words) cultural habits on The Rock:
They drink rum so strong it makes you screech, kiss fish heads on regular basis (good against cold sores maybe?) and go slaughtering a seal or two on the way home from school, all of which is done while trying not to get run over by a giant moose. The newest fashion is yellow oil skin and rubber boots. Dads (at least Sherries) seemed to have specialized in drop kicking their daughters boyfriends on first sight.
Very frightening stuff for an innocent little German tourist (apart from wanting to conquer the world from time to time, we are pretty innocent, I swear!). But Newfoundland has been good to me, it has shown me the mini versions of itself instead of the full blasting load. We saw a baby moose that only frightened the shit out of Mango, an almost melted Iceberg and a Minke whale which is only dwarfed by the pygmy whale. Newfoundland light, so to say.
Even Sherries dad didn’t turn out as harmful as I thought. The only thing he ever did to me was to feed me over doses of Toutons.
So far, so good. But now comes Janine along. She is from the bay. Sherrie comes from Mount Pearl, a community of 24,000 people (thats a LOT in NL) and she is therefore considered a townie. Which translates into something like a douche bag since the real Newfie is from the bay. Anyway, so Janine comes along and decides that I need some real (this time for really real) Newfoundland experiences and I must go to a two four party around the bay. Lets see how that will work out…