As Random as Magic Gets · Week 32
By Luca Bonafede · August 9, 2026 ·
A lot can happen in a week.
At 6 am, I was opening the café at the hotel where I work, after a night that had never ended. A few hours later, I was on my way to a country I had not known existed a few weeks earlier.
Let me explain.
It started in St. John’s, at a last-minute concert. It was the George Street Festival, which I had never been to. We had zero expectations. We didn’t even check who was playing, and fortunately I managed to get in.
The band was Down With Webster, and I was blown away. I knew nothing about them. They are a Canadian rap rock band from the Beaches in Toronto, who started in a middle-school battle of the bands in 1998 and are named after the 80s sitcom Webster. Their song “Party for Your Life” (2013) became the soundtrack of my week, because it gave me chills I had not felt in a long time. I have not stopped listening since.
And that was only the beginning of the night. All of George Street was open, every club. I moved from place to place, partying with fantastic people, some of whom I had already met somewhere else, without ever exchanging contact. And yet there we were, randomly meeting again among thousands. It was one of those nights that goes on and on. In the end, I stayed at the hotel where I work, because the night was infinite and I had to open at 6 am.
It was one of the longest shifts of my life, because a few hours later, I was leaving for a new country.
It all began with a sentence. A few weeks earlier, in Twillingate, the owner of the company casually said, “Since you like to travel, why don’t you go to France for a few days?”
So I went. Saint-Pierre-et-Miquelon belongs to France on paper, but I count it as another country visited, number 48, because it felt like one. If anything, it felt more French than France itself. I loved it there, for the little while I was there.
On the way, we stayed in Burin and visited Smuggler’s Cove, a place famous for bringing in cheaper alcohol from the French islands. The islands were a major base for rum-running in the Prohibition era, and the smuggling continued afterwards, on a much smaller scale.
The company was great, and I think we laughed through 90% of the trip while narrowly escaping death, as if we were in the Final Destination franchise. To begin with, the fast boat crossing was extreme, in extreme weather. People were fainting and vomiting everywhere, and even the crew looked worried. Then a hairdryer nearly blew up in my face. That was scary.
While I was there, news from an interview I had honestly half forgotten I ever gave caught up with me. It landed while I was in Saint-Pierre-et-Miquelon, half drunk in the middle of the night, and apparently I was giving travel recommendations on a Vietnamese news website.
Back in Newfoundland, the Canadian officers questioned me for quite a long time. I found out later that they were just practicing, because apparently they only ever see French or Canadian passports there. I was happy to answer. Sadly, I did not get a single stamp for my country number 48. Physical stamps are getting rare these days.
After that, we stopped in Grand Bank and Marystown. Then I had a couple of nights in St. John’s, where I squeezed in as many workouts as I could, and one beautiful night around a beach fire: my first roasted marshmallow, a proper s’more over the sunset, and a long conversation about Life and relationships. I smelled like smoke afterwards. It was worth it.
Before heading north, I had a quick shift with my dear friend Britt. I am going to miss talking about Australia, party stories, and situationships with you.
And then, on Saturday night, I reached Twillingate again. So the last time that felt like the last time was not the very last time after all.
Either this island is getting too small, or my Life is really a video game, because the coincidences just keep happening over and over again. A street festival I almost didn’t enter. A band I had never heard of. A country I learned about in a casual sentence. And meeting the same random people again, in the most random Tim Hortons along the Trans-Canada Highway. That is as random, and as magical, as it gets. I love them so much.
This week was so full of experiences, people, and uncharted locations that it was a reminder to myself: I do still need to sleep and eat sometimes.
What a week. My absolute favourite so far this year.
Another week worth living.
A lot can happen in a week.
Thank you, and ciao for now.
Luca Bonafede
St.John's, Burin, Marystown, Fortune, Grand Bank, Twillingate NL, Canada 🇨🇦
Saint Pierre and Miquelon 🇵🇲
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