Field Notes from St. John’s: A City That Creates What It Needs

Yesterday, Jessica and I wandered through downtown St. John’s with no particular agenda.

What struck me wasn’t any one building or restaurant. It was the city’s creativity.

It seems to be everywhere.

In the brightly painted row houses that refuse to blend into the fog.

In the murals that turn ordinary walls into conversations.

In old industrial buildings standing comfortably beside colourful heritage architecture.

In tiny shops that celebrate makers instead of mass production.

I stopped at Bee’s Knees and Nonia’s, where handmade goods filled the shelves. When I bought a silk scarf, the woman behind the counter didn’t tell me about the fabric first. She smiled and said, “You’re supporting women in Mongolia.”

The object immediately became a story.

Later, we found ourselves at One-Eared Goat, a lively tapas restaurant. We chatted with the chef, who had previously worked in one of St. John’s acclaimed fine-dining kitchens. We mentioned how remarkable it was that a city this size could support such an incredible variety of restaurants.

He shrugged and said something wonderfully simple:

“They were missing a tapas restaurant. Now they have one.”

I’ve been thinking about that ever since.

Some places seem to ask, “What already exists?”

St. John’s seems to ask, “What’s missing?”

And then someone quietly goes out and creates it.

Maybe that’s why this city feels so alive.

Its creativity isn’t confined to galleries or festivals. It spills into its restaurants, its shops, its architecture, and the conversations you have with strangers.

As someone who spends a lot of time paying attention to people and places, I found that deeply inspiring.

Sometimes the character of a city isn’t found in its landmarks.

It’s found in the way its people create.

— Leeça