The End of the Earth

There's a place you won't see much of in coffee table books. You won't hear about it on travel shows. You won't hear your friends raving about it, even if they're from there. You won't be bombarded with last minute vacation deals to go there. It's probably one of the world's best kept secrets - and the locals would like to keep it that way - with good reason.

The place is Newfoundland. It's a craggy outcrop of land nestled next to the north east corner of the North American mainland. Rugged and divinely beautiful, its remoteness is obvious in each lungful of unpolluted air. Located on the Eastern end of the island is the city of St. John's. It's the capital of the Canadian provice of Newfoundland and Labrador and the oldest English city in North America. I had the opportunity to visit last month.

Expecting a dull, barebones small town adorned with bad hair and bad flannel, I was pleasantly surprised. I found a very proper English city with well-maintained Victorian homes, modern infrastructure and a thriving art scene. The people are warm, friendly and speak in a strange dialect (officially called Newfenese). Irish culture is everywhere. So is maritime culture - the North Atlantic kind. Fishing boats everywhere, big and small. This is stuff you don't see much outside of National Geographic specials.

As the soft autum twilight gave way to night, the sky lit up with countless stars. More than I have ever seen in my life. The feeling was almost otherworldly. Words can't do justice here. This tourism video tries hard. You have to go there to believe it. I will again. Next week. And then back in Spring for an extended vacation.