MEMORIES OF NEWFOUNDLAND

All right, I’m up, it’s late, why not write another one. Could get into this whole blog thing. (Okay, so I’m not an ‘early adopter’.) So the company has started the shoot by chartering a plane and flying up to Newfoundland. (Now the crew, hardy souls that they were, have to take a BARGE to Newfoundland with all the equipment. I’m talking 7200 hours on a boat. The air was a miasmic storm of recycled food.) We shoot for three days (more on that at some point) then… well… party. Hard. Jim throws a big party – very nice – good food, good wine, breaks out the Cubans. (As in, ‘lights up some cigars’, not ‘frees the last remaining Batista supporters.’ In case you were confused.) Dinner’s over, everyone goes out onto the deck to smoke aforementioned Cubans. We’re all having a good time, and a couple of extremely drunk (that is, more than us) local fellows join us. Now we’re more than happy to have them  – Newfoundland’s been great to us. People were terrific; extras standing stock-still for hours, freezing. We could stand them a few drinks, no problem. Anyway, these guys go on to tell us that as it’s our first time in Newfoundland, we have to “kiss the cod.” (Now, as they’re looking at Sophia as they say this, we’re beginning to worry that a fight’s brewing. I mean who knows what “cod” actually means in these parts?”) Turns out it means ‘cod’. And evidently it’s a local tradition for first-timers that you literally “kiss a cod”.  We agree, being drunk, and they head off to find one. We’re expecting a full-on fish, lips and all, but when they return, they’re holding what is obviously a fish filet. We  all dutifully give that filet a peck. All but one of us, that is.  That person, being slightly drunker than the rest, (which was in itself an extraordinary feat) decides that true manhood demands that he not just kiss that cod, but take a BITE out of it.  Now even through our drunken haze, we look on in horror. We have no idea where that fish came from, nor indeed, how long it had been since he left the briny behind. But he shrugs it off and manfully chews away.  CUT TO:

Next day, we’re supposed to leave, but that member of our group is vomiting so spectacularly that he can’t even leave the bathroom, much less get himself on that plane. Takes him a whole day to recover before he can catch a flight back.

So the moral of the story I guess, is this: When in Newfoundland, you may kiss the cod… just don’t swallow.

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One Response to “MEMORIES OF NEWFOUNDLAND”

  1. Hehehe that’s pretty hilarious actually… Just a note: Sushi (or is it Sashimi? I can never remember which one is the raw one) *has* to be frozen and thawed before you can eat it. Otherwise theres some kind of bug that isn’t good for you…

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