Chase the Light, Not the Landmark

Planning a vacation is a strange ritual. You map out the weather, build a list of rainy‑day backups, and choose the landmarks everyone insists you "can’t miss."

You imagine the highlights long before you arrive.

And then you get there… and mostly end up winging it.

I've just come back from a brief trip to St. John's, Newfoundland. It was spectacular. The weather held until the very last day, and we managed to see everything on my list, though the lack of rain meant we skipped indoor stops like the Geo Centre and The Rooms.

But scrolling through my photos afterward, I noticed something odd: my favourite pictures weren't from my favourite places. In fact, I forgot to take photos at a few stops because I was too wrapped up in the moment.

Which brings me to Quidi Vidi.

Everyone said, "Don't miss Quidi Vidi."

So I went.

And it was… crowded. Commercial. The beer was excellent (highly recommend the chocolate cherry stout), but the whole scene wasn't really for me.

I wandered the village. The artisan studios were also underwhelming. Eventually I found myself sitting by the lake, watching gannets circle and dive. Those ridiculous little bird‑missiles delighted me far more than the brewery ever could.

I watched the light shift across the water. I studied the cliffs and the fishing shacks. And from that quiet spot, it was easy to forget the beer gardens, food trucks, and the incredibly busy brewery behind me.

In my photo collection, I have exactly zero pictures of the brewery, the beer gardens, the food, or the studios.

Instead, I have birds. Boats. Quirky locals. Cliffs. Fishing shacks.

That's the story that spoke to me.

And maybe that's the point. If everyone saw the same thing, fiction wouldn't need to exist because all our stories would be identical.

Sometimes the stories we love simply point us toward the landscapes we already respond to.

And sometimes, by seeing through someone else's eyes, we notice things we would have missed entirely.