Beloit v. Janesville

While there is coffee in the place it is in a new tin – both not a good sign which is a good enough excuse for me to start my townie ways.

I head down to Auntie Crae’s for a coffee and the beginning of the new ritual of reading the Globe to start the day rather than end it.

Walking in a strange direction for me along Water Street, I forgot the little rituals that go on in cities. Everyone was greeting everyone else it seemed. Everyone knew everyone else. There were chats in front of establishments that were just opening, there were exchanges as people passed in the street. The closest bit to surliness I saw were the people getting their coffee from the counter at Auntie Crae’s and I put this up to having to go to work.

Americano and Globe in hand, after trying to guess what HHR stands for on the New Chevrolet with two of the counter help, I sit out front and start to read.

Don’t get far as I start to chat with a beer delivery guy. Don’t remember what started the dialogue but the usual things were covered. Do remember mentioning that this guy had the proper cap as it was Molson Canadian. The other had on a Coors Lite one. He told me how much Coors is sold here and I mentioned that it was the official beer of Gros Morne it seemed. He said that sales took off when they started brewing it in Georgetown it is the water here – made a note buy bagels

But how can one proudly say I AM COLORADAN!

Shock of the day – The Spur is gone. Stan Dragland now only has 11 bars.

Finished and walking back I checked the bus timetable to see how I could get out to TJ’s to pick up a machine. The schedule had changed that day, in my case for the better but the bafflement on my face had a lady come to the rescue and tell me when and where to stand for the bus.

The plan get the machine swing by Pouch – am anxious to meet up with a traveller that puts my mere wanderings to shame. It usually happens over a couple of Guinnesses around the Midwest as our orbits meet, usually I am the stationary one. It is on a loose three year cycle. This is a rare second chance in the same year as I was my usual social ineptness when the last almost sighting occurred in January.

Walking toward TJ’S I wonder what it will be this time, there is a good chance that it will be a Volvo, one cannot move around the capital without seeing his front plate on one it is like this secret society.

- I forgot to ask an important question…
- Manual or automatic?
- Yep
- Automatic
A gap then no problem as he runs out back for a bit. Maggie seeing him appear before I do says oh the swank car.

I swallow heavily.

It seems that it was to be a Mazda broken in to the point where I feel comfortable with the car. It runs but will win no clean car pageant. Perfect for the roads that I want to take it down.

It is now a beige 10 year old Volvo wagon with only 230 000km on it. It was driven by Newfoundlanders on their trips between here and Florida. Way too clean for me probably the closest to a proper machine since the soccer mom caravan that Hertz set me up with the year they confused St John’s with Saint John.

I can see my money going to the development of Hibernia to fill the thing but no matter this trip has broken my budget to the extent that I can only laugh at it now.

My first drive along route 20 and already am tired of it. It seems that where once no one went less than 10k/h above the speed limit now they couldn’t manage to get to it. Then there was road work. Would be going the Bauline way sooner and more often than before.

Stopped at the Pipe House to see the evil twin but the way that his machine was parked had to park across from Sam and his group by Keith’s house.

Caught up on the goings on since January, what was going on with the problems with the School and took my leave to head over to Keith’s to meet the fellow cheesehead traveller for the first time on foreign soil.

- Oh she is in town. I was told when I knocked on the back door. Went in early this morning. E-mail tag was turning into machine tag.

Race back into town – via Bauline – to find a stack of notes on the stoop all timed with the last one only five minutes earlier.

I race back to Pouch – after stopping at the Georgetown Bakery to pick up a dozen of Montréal Bagels, I have my priorities. Of course in front of me there are some people up from Trepassey who seem to be taking forever to buy few simple loaves.

Run into Keith’s house to find that the reunion will be delayed a bit longer as I have made here before her. Tell the inmates to restrain. While I go across the road and sit having Sam and his crowd wonder what is going on.

I see what could be the last iceberg of the season off Sullivan’s Loop and decide to make a snap of it where the old Pouch comes back, Meet Russ who welcomes me back and informs me that to-morrow is his anniversary. He asks if I am staying at Martin and Gabrielle’s to which I say no Pouch as become too posh for me, that I cannot afford it anymore.

He searches the area. looking for property for me. He says that the house next door behind Sharon’s is for sale – but no ocean view I am spoiled I tell him. Thinks some more but to no avail.

Am about to leave when Shirley comes out hearing my voice a little longer chat. They tell me to stop by to-morrow.

Cannot find the iceberg.

Someone is hanging laundry at Klunder’s place and greet me. Fate sealed I take their snap and help them in their installation – they are artists – it seems that Pouch is filled with them.

Up and Elke is out another chat as there is the machine that was poking along Bauline Line when I was trying to get here.

See Henry but he disappears before I can get a chance to talk to him.

Finally the orbits collide.

In a scene that smacked of a recreation of Parks house in Woody Point - picnic table behind the house that overlooked the water – we began to catch up.

A brief tour of the area as I am tired of both routes into St. John’s so I extend it even further by going in via Portugal Cove.

Realising that in the playing car tag the only thing eaten has been a few of the bagels, I remember the Asian noodle restaurant in Duckworth Street which was cheap and with gigantic portions.

Little did I know that there are now two Asian restaurants beside each other, was confused momentarily but in the end realised which one I wanted.

It was closed.

We chose the other which was an all you can eat Sushi restaurant. It was packed as they took us up to the third floor to be seated.

Bring it on.

It seems that I committed my first faux pas. The waitress talked to me I pulled out the camera and was making her snap in the time that I was asking. She was nervous. I was oblivious. It was brought to my attention but the saving grace for me only came to my attention when we went to pay the bill.

My name was asked and I hadn’t finished responding when another waitress yells out Davis.

I look and look she says that she knows me, I am running mentally through my picture file to see who she could possibly be when I realise that it is Dylan. I am surprised that I remember her at all as the last time I saw her was the regatta three years ago when the evil twin she and I hit every bar in George Street.

Caught up with events, was invited kayaking, informed her that I cannot swim, think that the invite was rescinded as we headed out.