How do you distinguish Saint John, New Brunswick from St. John’s, Newfoundland?

From a spelling point of view,  you don’t abbreviate Saint and there is no ‘s at the end of John.

We are in Saint John, New Brunswick and happy to be so!

Not only that, but we are in uptown Saint John, which would be downtown anywhere else. It is uptown, because when ships landed, sailors had to walk uphill to do what sailors do when they come ashore. It is uptown because we seem to always be walking up a hill!! Shane and I have been gently corrected several times when we say “downtown”. This distinction is important. It is something akin to spelling Abernethy (the village closest to our farm) – correctly. So many people naturally spell it Abernathy. You’ve got to get it right!!

We are here for two months. Imagine that!!? It couldn’t be more different from our usual surroundings at Kerry Farm on Stone Church Road back in Saskatchewan.

So many of the differences stem from the topography. Here in Saint John, craggy hills of rock (marble, shale, and sandstone) are delineated by bodies of water – the Wolastoq (Saint John) and the Kennebecasis Rivers converge at Grand Bay. Then, this freshwater courses through the Reversing Falls where it joins the churning salt waters of the Bay of Fundy. Looking at the map below, we have walked many miles, mostly in the small yellow area – Uptown Saint John –  the city limits sprawl in all directions.

Uptown, the streets are in a grid of sorts, but suddenly a street goes shooting off in a new direction or a street that was Market is now called King. The predictability I have come to expect from prairie towns and cities is not here. To say that I don’t quite have my bearings is an understatement!!

Our compact apartment is tucked in the basement of an old brick residence (c. 1850) smack in the middle of uptown. In such a rocky place, there are few basements. Our apartment feels like a cave to me, with just a thin slice of sky showing in the top part of the single window. At night the ceiling fan makes me think of the steering wheel on a ship. The sound of the herring gulls has me dreaming  of ocean voyages. I am grateful for this cave (or ship hold), a refuge of sorts, because every walk has me noticing something new. I come home from all this noticing and collapse on the bed! Naptime…again!

I can’t get over the strangeness and surprises of this very old city*. Part of it has to do with the historic buildings with ornate and whimsical trim, gargoyles and carvings. I am getting a crook in my neck from looking up so much.

Here are some of the surprises:

Surprise: I notice  the height of the doors! Much of uptown was built after the Great Fire of 1877, and everywhere I look the doors are gorgeous and built for a much taller variety of human than we see today. Why were doors of yore so tall, I wonder? They are tall in both humble abodes and grand residences. Tall and strikingly beautiful!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

I spoke with a life long Saint John person. Each week, she picks a different architectural feature to study on her dog walks – mailboxes, door knobs, windows, trim, entry ways, fire escapes, window brackets, front steps. Just in the short time we have been here, I feel like I am learning a new visual language.

Surprise: walking along an ordinary street and –  whoah! what is that? It’s the sea, right down there at the bottom of the street! Not exactly the sea, but the Bay of Fundy – sea to this landlubber for sure. Because Uptown is a hill,  I am surprised several times in one walk by the blue water at the end of  a road! It gets me – every time!!

Strangeness: Because of the hilliness and the rocks a building can be three stories on one street and five stories high on the next. Although, there are many examples of this, the historical photo below shows it so clearly that I could  not resist including it.

Surprise: Shane brought along his “slackline” – a kind of tightrope he can set up anywhere to practice his amazing balancing skills. It never occurred to this prairie born fella that there might be a city with almost no flat places! Ever-resourceful, here is Shane set up underneath the enormous Harbour Bridge. (The bike belongs to an onlooker.)

Strangeness: there are two large and ever present plumes of smoke in the sky from just about every vantage point in the city. These Irving owned pulp and paper mills take the raw products from the beautiful forests here and convert them into toilet paper  – Royale, to be exact. The two plumes of smoke send my thoughts in many directions. a. The imprint of the Irving family is everywhere in the industrial port city. b. How did we come to be a civilization that poured so much money and energy into making toilet paper  with a “velour softness for an elevated experience you’ve got to feel for yourself”?  c. Enough random thoughts, Sue. Just buy recycled toilet paper!

Surprise: The Saint John Free Library has the most beautiful  blue carpet, sweeping across a large space, with large windows looking out to the harbour. I love libraries anywhere but the spaciousness of this one loosens something wonderful in me. I spend many hours at these  windows observing activity in the harbour. Has a new container ship arrived? Where is it from? Can I watch it loading? What are in those containers? Can I watch the tugboats guide it in or out? Can I see a seal? Can I learn to tell the difference between types of gulls?

We walk miles, we observe and notice, and then we nap! And nap again. Lots of new neural pathways are forming in our stodgy old brains, I think! Our uphill muscles are growing stronger. The people here love their city, I notice a moistness comes to some eyes when talking about Saint John. Of course, they can tell you all the problems with their city but they are fiercely proud of this beautiful and gritty port with its many contrasts. As for us, we are thrilled to be getting to know this part  of the world a wee bit better, growing stronger calves all the while!!

• Inhabited for millenia by the Wabanaki (specifically Maliseet and Mi’kmaq peoples), this place is known as Menahkwesk.  Later Called Saint John, it was the first city to be incorporated in Canada in 1785 when 15,000 Loyalists sought refuge here.