Perils of Pauline

I’m afraid, like the Perils of Pauline, last episode I left you (and me!) all hanging. But in the show, at the start of the next episode, everything is always miraculously OK, no explanation given. So it is with me. My trip continues and it begins with a taxi ride back to where I left off, Marystown.

It's the same taxi, same driver. We greet each other like old buddies, laughing and joking. He tells me he has been doing this route since 1984. He picks up people all over town and he doesn't need GPS or a map, there's nowhere he doesn't know.

There's a different crowd this time. After me there is a well put together lady picked up from a beautiful house with a well manicured lawn. She's visiting back home from Alberta. Next is a less well put together person picked up at the C.I. - correctional institute. His hair is a mess, his eyes swollen and half closed, like a boxer closed them for him. He's on the phone and his voice is a croak. A lady gets on at a medical clinic; she has no hair. More people get on and they're all talking together trying to establish connections. And they all find them, too - "Oh, you mean the Burin McMurrays? Well yes, my Doreen's friend Dorothy went to her prom with your sister's Henry back in '72." Forty kilometres out of St. John's we pick up our last passenger. He's standing on the side of the Trans Canada, cars zooming by, no town or house in sight. His stuff is in a green garbage bag. He's not old but some of his teeth are missing and the rest are yellow with nicotine.

Everyone is chatting away except the C.I. man who nobody wants to talk to and is still on the phone. I notice he's drinking something out of a Pepsi can! At one point there is a lull in the conversation like when an angel passes by and we all hear him say into the phone "I'm going to bury my son tomorrow. " The pause continues a brief second longer and then the talk starts again.

I don't catch much of it, just words and phrases - grandchildren, 6-49, tie rod ends, potholes on road to Littlebay. I hear the driver say he's not from the Burin Peninsula, he only came in 1979. The radio is playing, everyone is talking at once, the toothless guy behind me is yelling into his phone. Only C.I. man is quiet; he is asleep (or passed out?). I'm starting to want to get out.

Outside it's cold and raining, or just stopped raining, or about to start raining. I get off at Walmart and cycle 10 kms to Burin, just for the exercise. I'm staying at the Burin Efficiency Units, located between a car dealership and the lumber yard. Amazingly, it's awesome. Two bedrooms, full kitchen, living room, tastefully done up and spotless, and cheap, too. There is nobody at reception but the door is open and the key is on the table.

A Look Into the Newfoundland Soul

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