Letter from St John’s

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If all goes well, by the time you read this, I will have spent just over 18 hours in St John’s, North America’s oldest city, depending on who you listen to.  As I type away in Evernote on my laptop, my view is considerably less fascinating than what I have been looking forward to; the 3 day ginger stubble of the fellow in seat 26D, my notes and the tepid remains of coffee in a Styrofoam cup occupying the full extent of my vision. The map on the entertainment console in front of me indicates that I am now half way across the expanse of the Atlantic stretching between the western edge of the Republic of Ireland and St John’s, not entirely a comforting thought to be surrounded by all that water.

This is a trip which has been three years in the making. When I made it back to Nigeria in the summer of 2012 for Sister #2’s wedding, the last thing on my mind was that it would be the last time I would see my kid brother. Between then and now, life has happened, taking in a change of continents on his part, and a difficult year of work  on my part.

The primary objective is catching up, and God knows we do have a lot of catching up to do, but that St John’s has unique attractions of its own is not something lost on me. The plan is to get screeched in – R at work has made such a fuss about it that I am keen to experience it for myself – and then get to see as much of the city as I can. If time  – and bravery- permit, I may get to break my ziplining duck, the North Atlantic Ziplines are the longest in Canada they say.

Before all that there is the small matter of three more hours of flight time to deal with, whilst cooped up in seat 26F of this Airbus A319, not exactly the most comfortable but not the worst either. Plenty to ponder before this 10 day adventure begins.. Roll on!

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