The Northern Chirp

The Last Peep: What I Miss About Iqaluit

2009-12-16T22:04:00.004-05:00

[Lorraine writes]: Our arctic adventure is over (for now). In September, we migrated back south to be closer to family. And pretty soon it will be time to take down this blog. But in the meantime, here is one last 'peep' from Northern Chirp.

Tonight I'm in the Bruce Peninsula area, travelling for work, and thinking about the eastern arctic while surrounded by a wintery Georgian Bay wonderland. Seeing snow-heavy trees bowed down under the weight of heavy wet whiteness, and watching the water on the bay crash against the shore makes me think of how this landscape is like the eastern arctic and yet not like it at all. Both areas are stark and dramatic and beautiful. Both feel rugged and remote in their own ways. I love the communities and people in both places.

There are a lot of differences, too. Like trees, which I missed a lot when living on Baffin Island. But there is a lot I miss about Iqaluit and Baffin Island.

Here is my list of top 10 things I miss about Iqaluit (feel free to add your own Iqaluit favourites in the comments!)

1. The people: Of course. What fantastic friends and colleagues we were blessed to 'hang around' with. The north really does attract adventurous, quirky, wonderful characters and I miss so many of the great folks up there.

2. The landscape: Baffin Island is incredibly beautiful in a stark, harsh, wide-open, huge way. I loved the vastness of the horizons, and the simplicity of the landscape.

3. The pace of life: I'm really missing the laid back Iqaluit pace right now, as we lurch our way through the glitzy consumer-bombardment, crazy-busy, elevator-Christmas-music-in-shopping-mall type Christmas in the south.

4. PolarMan: I loved living in a community where folks accepted the local superhero as ... the local superhero. And how could you not love PolarMan's big-as-the-arctic heart?

5. Music: We had a great couple years of weekend music jams, weekly community choir, Road to Nowhere Band jam sessions and gigs, high school jazz band rehearsals (for John), St Jude's organ gigs (for Lorraine), and the funnest of all: playing in the pit orchestra for the local production of Fiddler on the Roof. Where will I ever again see a Russian Cossack character played by a long-time arctic resident from the Caribbean sporting dreadlocks?

6. The Harbour: It changed every day. I never stopped marveling at how you couldn't see those 30 foot tides push the ice up and down when you sat still and watched but yet, somehow, you knew it was happening. (Particularly when the dog teams on the ice would rise and drop from view behind the wall of ice scrunched up along the shore). And then there was the thrill when the first ship made it through the ice at the end of June or beginning of July each year....

7. The Astro Theatre "Movie" Messages: Phoning the answering machine for the local movie theatre, not only to find out what movies were on and whether Brian liked them, but also to hear Brian's commentary on everything from pothole travesties to political issues of the day.

8. Fur: I get strange looks in Toronto when I wear my fur-trimmed parkas or fur scarf, but so far no spray paint (My colleagues at work warn me its only a matter of time ...) I loved all the gorgeous fur handwork you see in evidence on Baffin Island parkas, boots, mitts and clothes, and all the other ways in which people integrated traditional art forms into everyday life.

9. "Country" food: When I was growing up in Alberta, we called it 'game' meat. I loved the access to fresh caribou, char, seal, and whale. And (true confessions time) I really loved eating the meat raw in the traditional Inuit style. John was never as enthusiastic as I was about this. But then again I grew up with a mother who could skin a deer in no time flat and who made the best moose sausage you ever tried, so perhaps I come by my carnivorous ways honestly ....

10. Arctic late night strolls: Bundling up and walking home late at night from visits to friends (usually after music jams!) living in the Road to Nowhere or Tundra Ridge or Legoland areas - walking down the hill, usually cutting across country because you can walk on the hard packed snow, and sometimes (if you were lucky) being stopped in your tracks because you just had to look up to watch the northern lights.

10 Honourable mentions:
- The crazy taxi drivers
- The Snack
- Alianait
- Friday dinners at the Legion
- Blizzard days
- Arctic Ventures
- The thrill of getting the "Saturday" Globe Mail (usually late Sunday, often Monday)
- Going out onto the land or water, hunting or fishing, for Inuit Qaujimajatuqangit (IQ) Days at work
- Arctic blueberries (so tiny and so delicious)
- Two hour grocery shopping trips because you have to visit everyone you bump into at the store

Here are four things I won't miss:
1. Wearing snow pants for seven months of the year almost every time I went outside.
2. $1800 'economy' flights to get to Ottawa or Montreal.
3. Low speed "high speed" internet.
4. Having to wait three weeks for Canada Post to deliver a letter from anywhere else in the country, and two weeks for a 'priority post' package.

And that's my last peep on this blog.

How big is it? (à la Sesame Street)

2009-07-01T10:47:00.008-04:00

KOOJESSE INLET IN FRONT OF IQALUIT, THE DAY BEFORE CANADA DAY. (HAPPY CANADA DAY TO ALL)

You know how you're sitting around over breakfast and you start discussing which is bigger, Baffin Island or Great Britain? So then you go google it, and the answer surprises you, so you go on to google other various sizes, and it's all fun? You know what I mean?

Well,funny you should mention it, because that's what happened to us this morning, and here are the results, in descending order of square kilometres, and rounded off:

Greenland (no surprise here): 2.166 million

Nunavut: 1.9 million

Ontario: 1.076 million

Alberta: 661,000

Baffin Island: 507,000 (a mere quarter of Nunavut)

Norway: 307,000

Great Britain: 209,000

Cuba: 111,000

Newfoundland (not Labrador): 108,000

Iceland: 103,000

New Brunswick: 71,000

Lake Superior: 82,000
(largest lake in the world by area; by volume could hold water of all the rest of the great lakes plus three more Lake Eries)

Netherlands: 41,530
(27 per cent of land and 60 per cent of population are below sea level)

Lake Baikal: 31,772
(but because of its depth, holds more water than Lake Superior, making it the largest lake in the world by volume--but who's counting?)

Wales: 20,780
(and here's a website that will tell you the size of anything as related to Wales: http://www.simonkelk.co.uk/sizeofwales.html)

Lake Ontario: 19,500
(smallest of great lakes by area, 14th in the world)

Algonquin Park: 7,700

Island of Crete: 8,340

Manitoulin Island: 2,800
(reputedly the largest freshwater island in the world)

Life under a microscope

2009-03-01T22:42:00.004-05:00

My friend and 'honorary mother', Jack, has been bugging me about why I haven't been posting on the blog. He notices EVERYTHING.

I've been ruminating about why I'm feeling blog-shy these days. The short answer: living under a microscope.

On the one hand, there are lots of wonderful things about living in a small-town-sized capital city: the community events, the pace of life, the interesting people, a wonderful live music scene, vibrant local arts scene ... and ... I could go on ...

BUT on the other hand: in the end, its a small town. With a lot of government workers, including people I work with. I freaked out last fall at a meeting when the casual pre-meeting chit chat with three people from other departments (including two not even located in Iqaluit) included all three of them commenting on my recent blog posts. Its a bit weird to have that level of scrutiny.

Now, I grew up in a small prairie town, so this "everyone knows everyone else's life dramas" is not unfamiliar to me. And it makes me itch.

BUT, on the OTHER other hand, I just gotta get over it.

On the one hand ... on the other hand ... on the other other hand .... Just like in Fiddler on the Roof. Which, coincidentally, is (in part) about a small village dealing with changes and the life dramas that everyone knows about. OK, OK, so there is a little pogrom and community relocation thrown in the Fiddler story too.

And, coincidentally, Fiddler is the musical that John and I just played in the pit band for. A real-live small town community musical, done with fervour and fun (and man oh man it was a lot of work. And did I mention, fun?). It was just one of those things I love about living in this small-town capital city ...

Here is John's story about it:
http://www.nunatsiaq.com/archives/2009/902/90220/news/features/90220_1924.html

Back to Normal: Arctic Cold!

2008-11-09T17:22:00.002-05:00

After pestering from family and friends, I'm breaking down and updating the blog again.

Life here is back to 'normal' -- i.e. pretty cold with nice dry crunchy snow. Most days are around -15 now, which is usually in the mid -20s with the windchill. Everything seems very crisp and beautiful. The bay is beginning to freeze over, and I think the last sealift ship with community supplies has left (there may be one or two adventurous last ones).

John took this picture from close to his office, at his new job (he's working as a reporter for Nunatsiaq News: www.nunatsiaq.com.

The other exciting news is that John's new book has come back from the publisher, and it looks beautiful.

Check it out on John's own blog: www.spiritualityofmusic.blogspot.com. (If you decide you want a copy, order through John by emailing him at johnbird(at)sympatico(dot)ca (That way John receives a larger share of the sale price) They are $28 + shipping from John (compared to $35 in bookstores and on Amazon, etc.)

Seal Hunting and Clam Digging ...

2008-08-10T19:15:00.005-04:00

For a landlubber like me (Lorraine), it has been fun living in a sea port and getting used to how that affects life. A lot of life in Iqaluit revolves around the sea -- skidooing on the ice in winter, boating in summer, hunting on the water or ice all year round, and paying attention to the incredible tides (second highest in Canada, after Bay of Fundy).

This past week I had a chance to get out and enjoy the sea, going on a seal hunt and clam digging. My friend Juan and I tagged along for the day with a local hunter, Nujalia, and his wife, Diane. We spent 12 hours out on the bay (having to time our outing according to the tides), most of the time on the ocean hunting for seals. We stopped for a while to dig for nice big clams, and later pulled onto shore for a seal feast. It was a fantastic day. And who knew that seal intestines tasted like calamari!

Here are some pictures from that day:

Getting ready to leave

Our boat captain, Nujalia the seal hunter

Diane

Clam digging

The fruits of our clam digging labours

Ring Seal Feast! Yummy!

More feasting and hanging out...

Juan and stoney faced friend...

Coming home through the ice

Ice Ice Ice Ice (and a little heat)

2008-07-30T21:56:00.003-04:00

One of the things I love about living here is how the sea-scape changes every day (and during every day). The ice looks subtly different every time you see it in winter. Now in the summer, the open ocean in the bay looks different every day.

And what is different the last couple days is the amount of ice in the harbour - big chunks of icebergs, often stranded on the tidal flats. It is an amazing sight.

Ice ice ice ice. In July. And right on the heels of record-breaking hot arctic weather (see Iqaluit Sizzles Through Hottest Day on Record http://www.nunatsiaq.com/news/iqaluit/80725_1391.html )

A month ago, around July 1, the ice finally all broke up and left the bay in June. And the annual sea lift ships slowly began to arrive.

But channels that should have opened up more further down the bay remained full of ice. A lot of that ice is multi-year ice coming down the Cumberland Sound (apparently) and even from the Davis Strait, and being blown (by changing wind patterns) into Frobisher Bay. Sometimes winds and tides will bring the iceberg chunks all the way into town. Nice big chunks of ancient glacial green ice.

Last weekend, this is what one iceberg in the harbour looked like (this picture was taken by my friend Danielle Lepage):

Two weeks ago, friends of our were part of a group that was supposed to travel to Greenland on the Aurora Magnetica (see www.auroramagnetica.com), a french research ship that overwintered in the ice in the harbour here, testing its special hull built to withstand arctic ice. They couldn't make it through the band of ice across the top of Frobisher Bay. Things even got a little scary when their boat was pushed out of the water by the ice. Here are pictures taken by my friend Andre Samson, who was on the boat:

Apparently the Aurora Magnetica has now safely made it to Greenland, though. And though some of the sea lift ships are coming into port with heavy ice damage (those ancient pieces of glacial ice are like rocks), they're still getting through with ice breakers.

I'm finding the ice fascinating (and a little sobering, knowing that soon winter will back ...)

The Ship Comes In! ... and more Alianait ....

2008-06-30T17:04:00.002-04:00

Its been a beautiful couple days, and its really starting to feel like summer in the arctic. Last week, the ice went out of the harbour, though you can still see it in the distance. And yesterday, the first sealift ship of the year arrived! Here it is:

Its been a really busy time, with work plus coordinating all the volunteers for the Alianait music festival. To tell you the truth, I'm at the end of my energy reserve, tapped out after a solid week of volunteer-rustling for musical concerts pretty well every day. So this afternoon, I shut off my cell phone and escaped my email for an hour, and went down to the harbour to check out that ship and look at the sea. Here are photos I took looking back into town from the pier:

After that brief sojourn, it was back to the big top tent at Alianait, to check in with John, who I'd roped into doing last minute security this afternoon. Here is a picture of three faithful Alianait volunteers: PolarMan (Iqaluit's own genuine superhero), Joshua (my 'wildest' volunteer), and John, Alianait pinch-hitting-volunteer extraordinaire:

John gets to eat polar bear meat....

2008-06-26T21:17:00.004-04:00

[Lorraine writes]: Well, John, lucky guy, got to try out polar bear meat yesterday. A polar bear wandered into the outskirts of town, and was shot. Some of the meat was brought to the shelter where John is working, so he got to eat his first polar bear meat.

Here is the CBC story, and a picture of the meat being carted away:

Children run for cover before polar bear shot near Iqaluit
Elementary students were on scavenger hunt when wandering bear spotted
Last Updated: Wednesday, June 25, 2008 | 6:12 PM CT Comments45Recommend32
CBC News

A polar bear sent dozens of elementary school students racing for safety before the animal was shot and killed Wednesday morning in a park just outside of Iqaluit.

The bear died only a few hundred metres from the pavilion at Sylvia Grinnell Territorial Park, which is about a kilometre from Iqaluit.

At the time, 37 kindergarten, Grade 1 and Grade 2 students from Nakasuk School were at the park for a year-end picnic.

"The students were up running on the hill here, and I was at the bottom watching them, and they were on a scavenger hunt," teacher Jason Rochon told CBC News on Wednesday.

"Two men started running down and waving their arms. And they were like, 'Get out of here, get back to the cabin!' So I was kind of wondering why they were upsetting the kids so much. And they were like, 'There's a polar bear! There's a polar bear!'"

Lazarus Awa and another summer student working with Nunavut Parks raised the alarm after Awa spotted the bear rooting through the contents of a garbage can near the Sylvia Grinnell River.

"This is my first time seeing [one] here in the park," Awa said. "I was so amazed, and it's a huge, old male polar bear."

Conservation officers and the RCMP arrived on the scene and decided that given so many people were in the vicinity of the polar bear, that there was no choice but to kill the animal.

Speaking in Inuktitut, conservation officer Johnny Nowdlak said attempts were made to scare the bear away with a warning shot, but it didn't work.

Nowdlak cited safety as the reason why they shot the bear, saying there were children nearby and summer visitors had set up about a dozen tents near the river.

The bear was shot in an area popular with tourists and residents. It then fell onto a ridge above the end of the park's road, overlooking the tents.

Nowdlak, who skinned the polar bear after it was killed, estimated that it was male, about 10 years old and approximately 2½ metres long. It appeared to be healthy and was likely looking for food in the park, he said.

The bear's meat and skin were delivered Wednesday afternoon to the office of the Iqaluit hunters and trappers association, where the meat was doled out to some lucky bystanders.

Signs of summer ...

2008-06-18T22:14:00.006-04:00

[Lorraine writes] Summer is starting to burst out even here in the arctic.

Today, after weeks of average temperatures of about +5, it was +17. This week's paper had a profile picture of an unusual arctic visitor: a robin -- probably the most photographed robin in a long time.

John tells me that the "news on the street" is that the icebreaker is within a week away, ploughing the way open for the first sealift ship of the year bringing community supplies. (John has finished the book, hoorah! and has been working at the local men's shelter, which is an excellent source of 'news on the street" info about everything you could possibly imagine ....)

And the big exciting thing today is that the Alianait tent went up. The Alianait Festival is a music and arts festival that runs for a week and a half starting this Saturday. Somehow I was rustled into the position of 'volunteer coordinator' and now I am happily trying to sort out about 200 volunteers (and counting) for the festival. Here is a picture of the tent going up (picture taken by Ed Maruyama, the official photographer for the festival; that crazy looking space-age building in the background is Nakasuk elementary school, by the way), and a link to the festival site: www.alianait.ca

My "honourary mother" Jack has been complaining that there is no 'real news' on our blog about what we are doing in our lives right now, so there you have it. I'm up to my eyeballs in music festival volunteers. John is finished the book and busy sussing out important 'news on the street'... and the worms are doing fine (no more crazy escape attempts)... all is well ...

1,000 Household Helpers Move In

2008-06-08T22:06:00.002-04:00

One of the conundrums about living up here is what to do with compost. There are no community-wide composting programs here (there is one small test one for a few households, but nothing we could participate in). It was a shock to start throwing everything in the garbage again after years of getting used to more and more recycling and composting. (It was also sooooo easy to start doing ....) It also seemed crazy not to compost, because the outdoor soil here is almost all rock and gravel (with patches of moss etc on the tundra, but nothing you could garden with).

So, I began to dream of worms. Compost worms. To chew up our compost and give us nice soil in return. I have friends who have used compost worms in apartments, etc. for years, and swear by them. So I became obsessed with getting compost worms. I blogged about this before: I was plotting how to ship up compost worms - send them by air cargo? take them on the plane as 'pets'?

Then some friends up here phoned us to tell us they were moving and wanted their compost worms to go to a good home. So, about 1,000 little household helpers moved in on Saturday. They were a little spooked by the move, so there were a couple wild escape attempts at first, but as soon as we kept the lid off the bin and shone light in, they all burrowed back down into their dark wonderland. It amazes me that they are so efficient, and industrious, and don't even smell! And you can actually HEAR them if you get up close to the box. I'm very excited about their arrival. Go worms go!

I Wear My Sunglasses At Night

2008-06-05T01:25:00.002-04:00

So, it's 1 am, and I'm looking out the window at two odd realities.

1. Its light out there.
2. There are a LOT of kids wandering around out there.

Welcome to the world of 24 hour sunlight. Official sunset is something like 11:30 and sunrise is something like 2:00 right now (OK, scurry off now and look it up on your search engines), but lengthy twilightson either end mean no darkness. And if adults' bodyclocks get whacked out by this (mine certainly is), then imagine what it must be like for kids.

By 2:30 or 3:00 each morning now, our east facing bedroom window has strong arctic spring sunlight beating down on it. So I've resorted to doing something I swore I'd never do: I put tinfoil over the windows as this seems to be the best way to block the light and actually get some sleep.

And I'm wearing my sunglasses pretty much all times of the day now, when I'm outside. Sometimes it is because of intense sunlight during the day (which comes and go with intermittent greyness and fogginess), and often it is because of the dust. Because it is almost always windy here, and (with few paved roads) VERY dusty, the sunglasses keep the grit from flying into my eyes. So between 24 hour light and 24 hour dust storms, I'm all about wearing my sunglasses at night ....

Time to go back to the dark tin-foiled bedroom cave and try to get some sleep .... (John is fast asleep after tiring himself out by going dog sledding today -- but that's another post ....)

p.s. thanks to Peggy who brought up the issue of sunglasses at night ...

Gardening in the Snow

2008-05-31T21:16:00.004-04:00

We woke up this morning to a fresh blanket of snow on the ground. The hot arctic sun had burned it off by noon, but it was still discouraging. I am so ready for spring.

The skidoos are still getting out on the bay, but its getting harder and this is probably the last weekend. One of my work colleagues said that the other day she was coming back from a trip out to her cabin down Frobisher Bay from Iqaluit and she was waist deep in water for big chunks of the trip. Yikes. I asked her if that wasn't incredibly cold and she said, 'nah. you don't notice it with the adreline when you're skidooing through water.'

Another woman who works in my department was just stranded on a skidoo trip up to Arctic Bay (a trip of a couple thousand kilometres, by the way) and she and her husband had to call a charter in to pick them up at one of the DEW line stations. Inuit colleagues are saying that the snow and ice melt is three weeks early this year.

But I'm ready for srping (especially after a trip to Halifax last week, for work -- I couldn't believe how green it was and how nice it was to see trees and grass and great stretches of spring flowers again).

So, what do you do when the spring gardening bug hits and there is no topsoil outside (only gravel and sand in most places, with some bunches of moss etc)? You join the community greenhouse!

We joined the Iqaluit community greenhouse, so this morning we trekked over the melting snow to participate in the big tomato plant-off. John and I are floaters, so we don't have our own plot -- we help to take care of the plots for a couple local shelters and community organizations.

It was so nice to go out of the snowy cold outdoors into the hot humid greenhouse. Plants which were started last week are already sprouted -- and up an inch, in some cases (yeah radishes). Today we were planting the tomatoes and zucchini that hang from the ceiling.

Here is a picture from last year, of the hanging tomatoes being watered by Peter Workman (Peter also conducts the community choir that John and I are part of, by the way).

Pictures from the trip to the flow edge (open sea)

2008-05-29T18:53:00.003-04:00

As promised in my last posting, here are pictures from our trip two weeks ago to the flow edge (where the open sea is).

Time to Store the Sealskin Mittens

2008-05-26T08:11:00.001-04:00

I'm in Ottawa, en route back to Iqaluit after a work trip to Halifax. Everything in Halifax and Ottawa has been sooooo green this past week - almost neon-glowing-late-spring green.

While we are not as far as that in Iqaluit (and don't have the trees that will make the horizon green, of course), spring has sprung. Most of the snow in town has melted, although the snow is still there on the hills outside of town (particularly as you get further away from the bay). The ice won't completely leave the harbour until July, though.

A week and a half ago, we were lucky enough to get out onto the land while it was still possible to skidoo out. We went to the flow edge (where the open ocean water is) about a two hour skidoo trip each way from town, as part of a group of about 40 people (mostly Inuit) who work in the government department I work in. It ended up being a glorious sunny day and so much fun. We were about 20 ski doos and 10 kamotiks (the big traditional sleds which are pulled behind skidoos), and I rode most of the way in one of the kamotiks (which made for some very sore joints and bones the next couple days!) John and I really enjoyed the day. Part of the purpose of the trip was hunting, and pretty well every ski doo had a gun. We weren't that successful - one seal and one Canada goose. Pictures to follow. But coming and going we were going through big pools of standing water on top of the sea ice close to town (particularly at high tide), so you could tell that it was going to get harder for the ski doos to get out on the sea ice.

Pictures to follow!

Lorraine Converts John ... to Bollywood Movies

2008-05-03T22:09:00.003-04:00

We don't have cable right now. We have a Zip membership (where you rent DVD's through the mail) but it takes forever for the DVD's to go back and forth by mail. So we were desperate last night to watch a video or DVD.

Which is how I finally convinced John to watch a Bollywood movie I have.

And I am proud to report that I have converted John into a Bollywood fan.

We watched Bunty and Bibli, an Indian Bonnie-and-Clyde-type con movie. Except unlike Hollywood, there are those crazy 10 minute long Indian song and dance numbers which pop up throughout the movie. It was SO much fun to watch. And much to his surprise, John was hooked (he even had to go off and download some of the key musical numbers from I-Tunes afterwards...)

Here's info about the Bollywood hit we just watched:
http://www.apunkachoice.com/movies/mov386/bunty_aur_babli-review.html

Life's Little Mysteries and Suprises

2008-05-03T21:45:00.000-04:00

[Lorraine writes] After a good break in southern Ontario, we're back in Iqaluit and settling back (after a restless period) into the rhythm of life here in Iqaluit again.

Its funny how, being back, you see things with 'fresh' eyes again. Sometimes it is the little things here that surprise me. Here are some of the everyday surprises I'm noticing again, here in Iqaluit:

1. Blue Bathroom Stains: I grew up on the prairies, and my mother battled valiantly (though mostly unsuccessfully) against the rust from the high iron content in our well water, so we lived with orange stains in sinks and tubs. So I am conditioned to think that bathroom stains are NATURALLY orange or red.

Not here. We get blue stains. Every time I scrub down the tub I marvel at how it builds up. Its from the high levels of copper sulfate in the water (or so I am told). Its very cool.

2. Kids Kids Everywhere: We have the youngest population in Canada here, with a high birth rate and big families. Everywhere you turn there are kids kids kids. Which gives a wonderful energy to a lot of life (and creates havoc in terms of scarce daycare and thus many parents forced to miss work days when childcare crises come up). Because the weather has warmed up, the back lot behind our apartment building is one constant melee of serious-looking hockey games, adolescent-girl dramas, and lots of kids and dogs milling around. A nice and entertaining harbinger of spring.

3. Snow that Melts even if the Outdoor Temperature is Below Freezing: When John and I first noticed this, we were flummoxed. It was -10, and the snow was melting like mad. What the ...... The spring sun is REALLY intense now (sunrise at 4 am, sunset at 9 PM with a couple extra hours of light on either end now). It hits the snow and melts it even when the air temperature is below freezing. Right now getting around is a bit messy, as your choice is to either walk through goopy mud (there is only one paved road through town) or melting snowbanks hiding big pools of water beneath. Who knew we would need not our trusty arctic Sorrels OR the good old rubber boots we schlepped up here with us, but INSULATED rubber boots (particularly if you do any ski-dooing, which we plan to do over the next couple weeks).

They Are Not "Northern", They Are 360 Degree Lights

2008-03-30T13:43:00.005-04:00

Last night we went to a FANTASTIC concert. Nathan Rodgers was in town, doing a fundraiser for the Alainait (music and art) festival that will happen this summer.

Rodgers is a terrific young folk singer. He's a son of Stan and nephew of Garnet, but I would say he has no need to rest on the family laurels - he is an amazing musician in his right. Check out his website: www.nathanrodgers.ca

We had a chance, along with some other local musicians, to jam with him on Friday night. At one point, Nathan revealed that he has studied, and knows some, Tuvan and Mongolian throat singing, and proceeded to throat sing with a couple local Inuit throat singers who were there. It was a transcendent moment. As was the moment last night at the concert when one of those same Inuit singers (Celina Kalluk), got up and sang along when Nathan performed his father's (Stan Rodgers') classic folk ballad, the Northwest Passage, having translated the lyrics into Inuktitut.

We walked home, across town, after the concert. We took a route down the steep hills along Frobisher Bay, along a snowbmobile path a little away from the houses. The northern lights, which are often going at night now and often located in the skies to the south of us, were absolutely spectacular. They lit up the sky in a 360 degree circle, vast undulating waves of skipping and dancing, sparkling light. We stopped, awe struck, in the middle of the darkness, with our heads back and mouths open, hardly able to move it was so incredible. We would slowly rotate around, oohing and aahing as the lights moved like waves over our heads.

Music and light. Spring in Iqaluit is good.

True Confession: I've Joined the Legion

2008-03-26T19:37:00.004-04:00

[Lorraine writes] One thing about living up here is that sometimes you do things you never thought you'd ever do. Like eat raw seal and whale meat. Or get a gun license so you can go into the parks. Or have long discussions about the mechanics of running snowmobiles.

Or join the Legion.

Which I've done, to my own mild shock. When I was growing up, I associated the Legion with boozy, smokey buildings where old people drank and played darts. And poppies, of course.

The Legion here in Iqaluit is in a league all its own. It is "the" social hub of the community. It is one of the only places in the community where you can buy liquor (there are no liquor stores, and just a couple bars in town,and strict controls on bringing in liquor), and one of the few cheap eateries in town. Everyone belongs. (OK, just about everyone). Its the richest Legion in the country, supposedly posting seven figure profits every year (which may or may not be an Iqaluit myth -- I guess as a LEGION MEMBER, I'll find out....).

I've been there playing music a couple times (Christmas carols, Robbie Burns night) and go there sometimes with the guys I work with, for lunch or after work drinks. Its a happening place: three different bar areas (a 'quiet' lounge, a big pool hall area, and a big open bar area with stage). But everytime I go I have to be "signed in" by a member.

So I decided to bite the bullet and join, as a "social member". Me, with a pacifist background, joining the Legion. Life has its odd twists and turns. Next item on my 'to do' list: get my gun license. (In my Alberta youth I was a crack shot, but life in Toronto and southern Ontario for many years meant disavowing my gun skills if I didn't want to be considered a wingnut by my progressive lefty friends. But now it is time to crack out and hone those rifle skills again).

Celebrating sledding and seals

2008-03-16T16:55:00.014-04:00

[Lorraine writes] Saturday was a full, fun day for both of us.

The day started out with John heading out to the sea ice, to watch as the dog teams took off on the annual race from Iqaluit to Kimmirut and back (7 days, 320 km). We know some of the racers. By all accounts it was the usual madness, dogs tangled in harnesses, teams taking off with almost all the dogs pulling forward but one or two resolutely pulling backward because they just didn't want to go, dogs fighting vigorously, or deciding to curl up and go to sleep right as the race was supposed to start. But all the teams made it out of town, and we'll go back next weekend to watch them return. Here are blogs of two of the racers:

http://www.globalwarming101.com/

http://ben-nomad.blogspot.com/2008/03/iqaluit-to-kimmirut-and-back.html.

Meanwhile, I went off to a seal celebration. There were anti-seal hunting rallies in Europe yesterday, so we had a community celebration to celebrate hunting seals. Hunters went out in the morning, and brought back fresh seals, which were skinned and carved up and eaten at the celebration (mostly raw). There was a feast of caribou and char, as well. People came in their seal skin clothes - parkas, coats, boots, pants, mittens, hats, you name it. There were some gorgeous seal skin clothes there, and a great community buzz. It was a great time and a reminder of just how critical seal hunting is to the local diet, economy and culture here. Here are some of my photos:

Carving up one of the seals:

Local throat singers:

Qulliq burning seal oil:

Sealskin clothes:

All that is left after the feast (head of a char in the left box; hoof of a caribou on the right):

Article on Iqaluit Taxis

2008-03-13T20:56:00.002-04:00

I really enjoyed this article in Walrus Magazine, and thought it
nicely captured the crazy world of Iqaluit taxis, which are the
"public transportation" system here. Enjoy

http://www.walrusmagazine.com/articles/2007.02-field-notes-arctic-cabaret

Invincible Summer

2008-03-12T17:26:00.003-04:00

"In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an
invincible summer." Albert Camus

After three months of pretty well solidly -30 to -50 temperatures(with the windchill), we are FINALLY getting into balmy spring -20's. And up here, that really is lovely weather -- dry, cold, sunny, very bearable. It's so wonderful to be outdoors these days. On the weekend, I went for long walks, checking out the sea ice, checking out the sled dog teams, and watching children, dogs and ravens play around(sometimes even across species boundaries!)

I'm feeling pretty light hearted. Its not just the added sunlight (light in the sky from 6 am to 7:30 pm). I'm also feeling dandy because I've FINALLY kicked my parasite in the ***. I was pretty sick for six solid weeks, had trouble getting medical care up here, and was finally properly treated when I was down in Toronto last week. Turns out I had picked up a parasite, probably from eating raw meat (as is the custom up here). No more raw caribou, whale, seal or fish for me for a while. I love country food up here, including raw meat, so that is unfortunate. On the plus side, I've lost 10 pounds in the last six weeks, thanks to Mr. Parasite. Hah.

John's book continues apace. We are taking a vacation in three weeks. Its a beautiful sunny snowy world up here. And Mr. Parasite is on his last little macrobial legs. So, all in all life is good.

Thinking About "Stuff"

2008-03-08T16:51:00.002-05:00

I'm back in Iqaluit after a trip south to Toronto for work for a few days. Frankly, its a relief to be back to the quiet pace of Iqaluit, and away from the barrage of stores and ads and malls and cars and crazy busyness.

One of the things in life that I wrestle with is how to detach myself from "stuff". I love gadgets, can spend hours mulling over catalogues, and have the occasional shop-a-holic fit. This, despite the fact that I even lived for a while in an intentional community dedicated to voluntary poverty -- I admit I was never much good at 'voluntary poverty'. Its actually been a relief to live in a place where malls and ads and prompts to shop shop shop are not in your face all the time. It was also good to go through the purging process before we came up here, and to realize how much 'junk' we had in our lives, and how much we could get rid of. (Mind you, we still brought up too much junk with us.)

At this point in my life, I want to strip back to the basics. Life is just easier that way, and it frees up my mind for what I really value: relationships, music, good work. (And skiing, says John from the sidelines). Too much stuff clutters up my mind not just my closets, I find. On the other hand, I do yearn for good espresso, listen to podcasts on my my i-pod every night before I fall asleep, and am sitting here blogging on my dandy laptop. So yes, I am full of contraditions. But I'm working on it...

Here is an interesting video on "stuff":

Strange Black Dots on Landscape

2008-02-29T19:35:00.006-05:00

I'm sitting in the Ottawa airport, stranded by weather, en route to Toronto to meetings next week, and a chance to see "the kids" (or should I say, "those handsome, charming young men who are my stepsons") this weekend.

On the way down from Iqaluit, I was casually looking out the window every once in while, at the landscape. About an hour into the flight, I thought to myself, "what ARE all those funny black dots on the ice and snow?" It actually took me about 10 seconds to realize, wait a minute, those are TREES. TREES!!!! I miss trees ALMOST as much as I miss those charming, handsome stepsons. Trees and stepsons, here I come ....

Arctic Night Owl ...

2008-02-22T23:07:00.003-05:00

[Lorraine writes] Its 11 pm on Friday night, and I'm getting ready for bed. Which means the Bird is about to get up and start his next shift.

As John has become more and more immersed in finishing off his book, his working hours have migrated deeper and deeper into the night. Now, he's usually at the computer tapping up a storm between midnight and 7 am. He comes to bed, I get up. And on days like today, he has a late evening nap to recharge his batteries for the overnight shift. So I'm creeping around quiet as a mouse, while he recharges the muse.

The book project is coming along. One great side effect that I get to enjoy (in addition to John being happy as a clam because he's 'researching' music all the time) is the constantly new and amazing music repertoire wafting through the apartment all the time because of the daily 'discoveries'.

I'll be kinda sad when this book project is done. Its been fun to reap the benefits (without having to do the crazy-making work of the writing).

Wow, great comments on the north...

2008-02-20T19:33:00.001-05:00

Check out the Nunavut Nonsense blog for the great comments by people reflecting on why they love living in the north:
http://nunavutnonsense.blogspot.com

Court weighs in cost of living up here ....

2008-02-20T19:18:00.002-05:00

Well, now even the courts have weighed in on the ridiculously high
cost of living up here.

This was in a CBC north news story yesterday:

Judge determines cost of living in Iqaluit is 50 per cent higher than Yellowknife

A Nunavut Court judge has determined that the cost of living in Iqaluit is 50 per cent higher than it is in Yellowknife. Justice Earl Johnson made the ruling last week in a bankruptcy case. An Iqaluit family forced to declare bankruptcy disputed the calculations of their trustee, Brown and Crocker (sp). The trustee had determined that they could keep the basic household exemption as calculated for Yellowknife plus 25 per cent to reflect higher costs in Iqaluit. The Iqaluit family argued it wasn't enough and suggested they should be allowed to keep the Yellowknife amount plus 100 per cent. The judge came up with the Yellowknife exemption plus 50 per cent after reviewing some of the costs in Iqaluit. Among other things, Judge Johnson noted that Nunavut households spend 84 per cent more on household supplies than people in southern Canada and 31 per cent more on housing.

Mystery tube arrives by post

2008-02-13T22:35:00.004-05:00

One fun thing about living up here is getting the occasional care
package from family or friends. Its always interesting to see what what "essentials" they think we are missing.

My mom has been using her care pkg skills in an ongoing effort to see
what she can send cheaply by post, how to best surprise us, etc. Being
very practical, she often sends things like cough drops and Cold FX
tablets, which is much appreciated. But today, a FANTASTIC care package arrived. IT was a small,
long poster tube filled with ....... salted black dutch licorice!!!!!
Yeah!!!!! (Ana and Jeff get big cudos for sending us some at Christmas, too :-) Thank you Dutch Toko store in Guelph ...)

I'm off to eat a bunch along with some pickled herring I
splurged on at the store this week. I better be careful or John won't come near me for days.....

5 Things I Like Best About Living in the North

2008-02-11T13:36:00.001-05:00

[Lorraine writes] Nunavut Nonsense has a blog thread going on this topic. Here is my contribution:

Five Things I Like Best About Living in the North:

1. I went from commuting 2500 km a month for work a year ago, to 10 km a month now.

2. A bad traffic jam here is cars stacked five deep at the four-way
stop at lunch.

3. The crazy taxi drivers have "shortcuts" to avoid those "bad traffic jams".

4. My community has a genuine superhero (PolarMan) devoted to good works.

5. When I went shopping for a valentines gift for my sweetheart, I could pick up a snowmobile, or walk two paces over for chocolates.

Lorraine (Northern Chirp)

In praise of traditional arctic clothing

2008-02-09T19:25:00.000-05:00

[Lorraine says] Today was brutally cold: -55 with the windchill. I went out midday to go the library and to pick up a few groceries. I was reminded of just how grateful I am for the sealskin mittens John gave me at Christmas -- my hands have never been cold in them. (Here is a picture of John modelling them). It also makes me realize, again, not only how beautiful the traditional clothing is up here, but how functional.

This past week, I slipped out for a late lunch one day, and went over to the courthouse where a local fiddler and I had been asked to play music for a wedding. The bride (in her 50's) wore a stunningly beautiful handmade amauti made of raw green silk, with intricate beading, and trimmed with fox fur. Her daughters and granddaughters also all wore amautis with gorgeous detailing, and trimmed with fur. One of the granddaughters carried a pet stuffed rabbit in the baby holder of her amauti as she proudly walked up the aisle with her grandmother.

Amautis are a great example of traditional clothing that is both functional and beautiful. Most young women carry around their babies in amautis. Occasionally, you'll even see a man wearing one, if he's carrying around a baby. There is a good reason why amautis and other traditional clothes (sealskin mittens and kamiks (boots), caribou and sealskin coats, and particular types of fur trim) are so prevalent up here: they work well in this climate, and they are beautiful to boot (no pun intended).

Maybe one of my next projects will be sewing lessons for traditional clothing ...

Sticker Shock

2008-02-04T20:21:00.000-05:00

[Lorraine writes] Well, the end of month tally is in, and the word is official. We are officially spending an OUTRAGEOUS amount of our salary on food. I knew food costs up here were expensive but this is ridiculous.

Total groceries for January for the two of us: $1215. (This is the point at which my 'real' mom Ella in Alberta and my 'honourary' mom Jack in Toronto gasp in horror while reading our blog and begin to compile the long lists of ideas for us to save $$.)

That included our one meal out all month (Chinese at the Navigator, yeah).

For all you frugal shoppers out there in the south, print off this list and see how it compares to what you are paying in your next grocery shop:

Milk: $7.35 for 2L carton
Butter: $6.99/lb
Flour: $10.49 for 2.5 kg (yes, mom #1 and mom #2, we ARE making our own bread)
Coffee: $11.99/kg
Shredded Wheat: $7.99/box
No Name Kleenex: $2.39.

We usually shop at the North Mart (the 'buy everything' store up here, where the skidoo aisle is five steps from the bread aisle). Here is our North Mart:

Sometimes we go to the other store in town, Arctic Ventures (see my Dec 19 post).

Occasionally, we bring in food by cargo or 'foodmail' (subsidized postal cargo rates for food basics). Last week, I faxed a food mail order to La Marche du Nord in Quebec, and they sent us $100 of food, which cost $89 to ship plus $6 for a taxi to carry it all). So, your basic grocery bill, doubled.

Any which way you cut it, our grocery bill is one big 'ouch'. Later this year, we'll go down to Ottawa and do a big shop for basics and have it shipped up on the annual sea lift, which will hopefully help cut costs somewhat.

But we'll still end up buying our tomatoes at $8.88/kg and apples at $8.99 for a 3 lb bag -- you can only live on dried veg and fruit so long ....

Strange Substance Sighted

2008-01-31T22:28:00.000-05:00

[Lorraine writes] Yesterday, we had a small blizzard, lots of wind, some snow, and over 24 hours between Tuesday and Wednesday, the temperature rose from -35 to -4. It made for a nice cosy day working at home, though it wasn't that severe and I probably COULD have gone into my office (all the govt offices in Iqaluit were officially closed, though).

Last night when it warmed up to -4, we were positively giddy. We hadn't seen such warm temperatures in three months. We ditched our big parkas, put on light jackets, and made an 11 pm run to a gas bar to pick up some very expensive junk food, just for the thrill of going out in the 'warm' weather.

Today the temperature was up to 0 degrees. Very strange. I walked into work, revelling in the warmth, and when I arrived and began to take off my big boots, it noticed something VERY STRANGE. An odd substance clung to my boots, something I have not seen since LAST winter in Ontario. It was translucent, a little chunky, and drippy ..... I was shocked to find SLUSH on my boots.

I realized just how unaccustomed I've become to the notion of winter slush -- its so dry and cold up here that the snow is more like styrofoam and makes crunch crunch crunch noises when you walk on it. And on really cold days, it echoes under your feet, and you can get a sense of the temperature from the type of snow echo.

Tomorrow we go back to "normal" -20's weather. No more slush. More crunch. Can't wait til spring....

Nunie Award Nomination

2008-01-27T15:34:00.000-05:00

[Lorraine says] So, we've been nominated for a "Nunie". There are quite a few bloggers in Nunavut, and someone has started an annual award for different blog categories.

We've been nominated for Best New Blog of 2007. Now, before our faithful southern readers get yer knickers in a knot over this good news, please note that we've garnered a modest 1.6% of the vote so far. LOL. So, you can go to http://kiggavik.typepad.com/nunavut_blogs and vote for us. Even better, you can go to that website, and check out some of the other nominated blogs - there are some interesting bloggers up here. Some of my favourites are Townie B'stard, The North is my Snowcone, and Jen of Nunavut. The Townie B'stard has a hysterically funny animated cartoon of a writer going crazy, which makes me laugh every time I see it because it reminds me of John.

Seeking an Owl's Wisdom

2008-01-26T17:04:00.000-05:00

[Lorraine writes] Life has been busy but good. The pace quickened over the past weeks as I got ready to argue a big legal case this past Friday.

In order to make an appearance in the Nunavut Courts, I had to be called to the bar here. Which I was, a week ago, in a lovely, intimate ceremony. Another lawyer and I appeared before the Chief Justice, in her sealskin sash, in one of the courtrooms which have kamotik (sled type) railings, and a court clerk whose uniform also had sealskin edging, swore us in. A number of lawyers from the local legal bar showed up, which is a nice tradition here. Here's a photo of me taking the oath.

I was thinking it would be nice to commemorate the occasion, but how? The more I thought about, the more I thought it would be good to honour my call to the bar up here with a traditional Inuit carving, related to my understanding of practicing law up here.

Then on Wednesday, I had to go to Kimmirut for work. Kimmirut is the nearest community to Iqaluit, on Baffin Island. There are no roads between any communities in this territory, so you can either fly or snowmobile. Its a one day snowmobile trip or 40 minute flight. I flew, although I swear the small plane I was on was just as cold as being out on a snowmobile!

Kimmirut is a beautiful community, with houses perched on steep cliffs coming down to the seashore. You can see the 30 foot ice walls where the tide goes up and down. It is the jumping-off point for travelling to beautiful Katannilik Park, which has a microclimate along the Soper River, and thus has the only (?) trees in Nunavut. (Nunavut bloggers can correct me if I'm wrong on that). Its a popular canoeing and rafting river in the summer, and the general area is gorgeous. There are interesting geological formations, including large outcrops of white marble (and including the big white marble hump in the village that looks like the heel of a foot -- Kimmirut means 'heel'). (Check out www.kimmirut.ca for more info).

While there, I had a chance to talk to the Park Manager, who showed us the interpretive centre and gallery which are usually open only in summer. There in the gallery were many gorgeous carvings (there are a lot of talented carvers in Kimmirut), including a beautiful 8 inch high snowy owl in green marble. Ahhh, I thought, owl. As in wisdom. That is a nice metaphor for how I hope to practice law here. The carving was done by a young carver in his late teens, named Johnnysa Mathewsie. Its now in my living room: here's a picture.

So here's to hoping that I live up to the example of my carved animal friend, and find some arctic wisdom up here...

Learning to Adapt To "Parka" Time

2008-01-08T19:59:00.000-05:00

[Lorraine writes]: Well, Christmas and New Years are over and its back to the regular day to day schedule.

But with one scheduling challenge: right now it seems like about 2 hours of each day are taken up with just getting in and our of outdoor clothing. In the past six days, we haven't had a day warmer than -45 with the wind chill (mostly the temperature has been hovering around -35 with about 30 to 40 km/hr winds, which equals around -50 with the windchill. We also had a mini-blizzard last Friday). On Monday morning, I got up early and it was -59 with the windchill (it "warmed up" to -53).

We just sent out our "Epiphany" letter (having been too tardy to make Christmas), and we were gloating in our annual Bird-Land index that we'd cut our average monthly commute from 4500 km/month between the two of us, to 12 km/month. Think of all the time and energy we are saving, I thought! But now of course, we have "parka" time to factor in...

Here is a picture of my butt-ugly warmest parka (I have two other 'prettier' parkas -- who knew that one could have a fashion selection of parkas, for pete's sake). I'm suited up in t-shirt + wool sweater + over sweater + parka + long johns + pants + wind pants + three layers of socks + wind goggles + neck warmer + Pangnirtung hat which we can't even see under my parka hood + trusty sorrel boots + lovely sealskin mittens (my Christmas gift from John, natch). If I don't get out the door soon, I'll smother ....

Tomorrow it warms up to a balmy -28. Can't wait ....

Reflections on An Arctic Christmas

2007-12-29T13:51:00.000-05:00

[Lorraine says:] Well, Christmas is now past, its -33 not including the windchill, John is off skiing, and it is a competition whether the snowmobiles tearing around or the ravens up their regular highjinks are the most entertaining activity outside the window right now.

Its actually been a busy Christmas. Other than Christmas day, when we had a quiet day relaxing at home, its been a non-stop whirlwind of socializing, Christmas parties and community events.

The whole town here definitely gets into the Christmas mood, mostly by socializing up a storm. The local Inuit seem to set the pace, setting up tons of community events, work get-togethers, and socializing opportunities. Many Qallunaat (non-Inuit) head south at Christmas, and those that are left also socialize up a storm. Pretty well every night for the past two weeks we have had a party or social occasion to go to, including some good music jams. We hosted a gang on Boxing Day for a big turkey feed, which was a lot of fun.

On Christmas Eve, we went to the community Christmas pagaent at the Anglican parish hall (which fills in for the famous Igloo-shaped cathedral which burned down a couple years ago and which is being rebuilt). Two young Inuit neighbours from our apartment building (boys, around 10) were with us and they were excited when they were given 'glow sticks' at the service. They were flashing them around outside afterwards as we were walking home, and John suggested they could use them to flag down a plane at the airport. They decided they could flag down a plane right there in the field where we were walking and that the four of us could then fly anywhere we wanted. I suggested we could go to the north pole, given it was Christmas Eve. No, they said excitedly, we could take the plane to Ottawa, which would be REALLY exciting! Ah, its all about perspective...

The Anglican Cathedral Before it Burned Down:

Last night we went to the local arena to watch the traditional Inuit games which go on each day from Christmas until a big community feast on New Years day. The arena can't be used for skating anymore (the permafrost beneath is melting, so the building is sinking and ice would be too heavy) but does get used for some community events like the games. A lot of the games last night involved dice (you'd roll to see if you got the right number to do the game in question), music and/or dancing. It was a lot of fun, though a little hard to join in if you couldn't understand the Inuktitut directions. One thing I found really surprising and refreshing was how many young people, particularly young Inuit men (dressed in hip hop gear) joined in enthusiastically in the traditional dancing. They there were jigging up a storm in their backwards ball caps, baggy pants and Tu Pac t-shirts.

One of the more disconcerting moments on the night came in the middle of all the Inuit accordian jigs and reels being played by the live band or from recordings. Suddenly I noticed that the tune Jack Tar was playing, which John's old band Swingbridge plays. I poked John and marvelled at how similar the arrangement was to Swingbridge's. Then Diggy Li, another Swingbridge favourite, came on and we realized they were playing Swingbridge as the background music for the Inuit traditional games. John had given a copy of Swingbridge's album to a local guy, who it turned out was taking care of the sound system for the games. Too funny.

It's 2:30 and dark outside. I need to get moving to get to the library before it closes. Tonight is Scrabble night for me with some fellow Scrabble fans, and I think John will go back to the traditional games.

It's all uphill from here (or is that downhill)

2007-12-22T00:46:00.000-05:00

[Says John] Well, we made it through the shortest day of the year--and it wasn't that bad, really. The sun rose at 9:22 or 9:23 (depending which website you get your info from) and set at 1:42 or 1:43, giving us 4 hours and 20 minutes of visible sun between those two events. If you add on the considerable dawn and dusk times, you get 6 hours and 53 minutes--almost seven hours of other than complete darkness. You know--livable, really.

One week from now, we'll have 8 minutes more of visible sun, two weeks from now, we'll have 28 minutes more, and one month from now we'll have one hour and 45 minutes more.

Six months from now, the sun will appear at 2:11 a.m., and disappear at 11:01 p.m. Add in dawn and dusk then and we will indeed have 24 hours of sunlight. Wowsers.

Of course, even without the sun, the darkness is not total --unless it's very overcast. We've got stars and moon (about 8 hours and 12 minutes of moonrise today, although a chunk of that overlaps with daylight), and most spectacularly, the Aurora Borealis or Northern Lights. I've seen them about five times now since we arrived (sometimes they're just not happening, sometimes it's too cloudy, and most often, I'm inside like a dullard, watching TV). A few nights ago it was pretty spectacular, one long green, flashing stream that started on the western horizon, streaked right overhead almost to the eastern horizon, and then swung left to disappear behind the hill on the north side of town. And it flashes out like a bolt of pure silk flapping in a strong wind. It always makes me think of that line from one of the later verses of Silent Night: "Glories stream from heaven afar." That's what it looks like; I wonder if that's the image the composer had in his mind.

I also went out skiing on the shortest day of the year (12th time out). It was -12 degrees and snowing lightly, which seemed positively balmy after my previous outing, when it was -37 (-47 with the wind chill). Amazingly, I was reasonably comfortable even on that coldest day, with a face mask, during my one-and-a-half hours outside. Was happy to come back in, though.

It struck me, when I was skiing on the shortest day of the year, that I just might be able to ski on the longest day of the year, too. That would be kind of fascinating, although, keen skier that I am, even for me that seems like maybe too long a season.

Christmas week looks like it's going to be a lot of fun, with games every night, carol singing, and we're invited to a solstice party, and at least one other music night. And we're having some of Lorraines work colleagues over for Christmas turkey.

I mailed a Christmas parcel to my Mom last Monday, and wonder of wonders, she got it on Wednesday. How's that for service? On the other hand, Mom mailed us a parcel on Dec. 4, and we still don't have it. The tracking record says it arrived at the Montreal station Dec. 12, and that's the last it was heard from. The post office guy here says a bunch of stuff just came in from Montreal, but they didn't have it sorted on Friday. He says there's a good chance it's there. Fingers crossed.

And here's wishing all of you a Merry Christmas season, however you like to keep it. Blessings to you.

Why My Friend Don Should Move to Iqaluit

2007-12-19T20:46:00.000-05:00

[Lorraine says] Tonight after supper we went to Arctic Ventures to get a few groceries. I was very excited because a shipment of turkeys came in, they are decently priced, and we're cooking up a Christmas dinner for ourselves and a couple of (new) friends.

Arctic Ventures is a great general store where you can get everything from groceries to videos to towels to fur strips for sewing with. And every time I go there I think of my friend Don.

Don is one of the many friends who I miss a lot. He is (among other fabulous things) an opera nut and a walking opera encyclopedia. The kind of guy who you can ask, "Did Maria Callas really eat tape worms to become a more famous, skinnier diva?" or "ok, what's REALLY happening with all that crazy sh*t in the Wagner Ring operas anyway." And he knows. He even took me to one of the Wagner Ring cycles and provided me with a ten page written commentary ahead of time so that I would know EXACTLY what was going on. (Thanks Don).

And I think Don would LOVE Arctic Ventures. Ventures pumps out crazy, loud opera music at rock concert sound levels, at the front door. It is a little disconcerting to come walking in from a cold, arctic night into the BIG OPERA ZONE. I suppose it is to discourage teenagers from loitering but I keep having visions of middle-aged opera fans hanging out in the lobby at Ventures and having to be chased home.

Here is someone else's youtube clip of what it is like to walk into Ventures' opera zone (and by the way, ignore their obnoxious comments):

And to Don and so many other good friends who I keep thinking of when little everyday things trigger memories: we miss you lots and hope you're having a wonderful Christmas season.

Christmas Blues

2007-12-15T03:04:00.000-05:00

[John says] This will be the first Christmas in my entire 54-year life that I have not spent with my mother--and brother. And the first Christmas in the lives of my sons, Matt, Tom and Pete, that I will not been with them, either. In principle I profess to be okay with this. My sons are at that age when they are separating from their birth family and forging their own identities and lives as adult individuals, so in some ways it's probably good that we be apart for a while. In the case of my mother, though, well, there's no excuse for not being with her for Christmas, is there. But she's supportive of us being up here, and makes the strong argument that it would make absolutely no economic sense to come back south so soon after getting here. The return flight alone from Iqaluit to Ottawa is about $1,700, which is kind of ridiculous when you compare it to prices for other flights.

All well and good, but I find myself getting weepy over all those sentimental Christmas movies that show up on TV at this time of year. Tonight it was "It's A Wonderful Life," which really is a delightful film. When Jimmy Stewart came running back into the house and into the arms of his children after his encounter with Clarence the Christmas angel convinced him he did want to live, well I started blubbering like a baby.

And last week, which admittedly was harder because Lorraine was away in Vancouver, I actually burst into tears watching Ernest Saves Christmas. I mean, ERNEST SAVES CHRISTMAS, for heaven's sake--an absolutely goofy (but goodhearted) comedy. The thing is, it was one of my sons' favourite Christmas movies for a stretch of years when they were kids, and we watched it together many, many times. So all those memories came flooding back.

Oh well, someone once told me we should all cry at least once a day, to release stress, to get rid of toxins in the body, and to wash out our eyes. So there's a start for me. (Reminds me of that chorus from the country and western song by I don't remember who: "Every night I sleep just like a baby. I wake up every hour and cry."

Some of this feeling, I imagine, is also empathy with a new and very fine friend up here who, two weekends ago, lost both her husband and father within days of one another. That's brutal. Definitely makes you think about mortality, and the importance of living and appreciating each day to the full.

On the upside, we're settling nicely into our apartment, and it already feels like home to me. And we're finding out just how conveniently situated it is. A maximum of ten minutes walk to anywhere, from skiing, to shopping, post office, library, church, restaurants, Lorraine's work. Maybe 15 minutes to the hospital, although you could probably do it in 12.

And I've been out skiing eight times already too (although I have friends in southern Ontario who tell me they've already surpassed that this year. It's snowy down there, I guess). When I get up on the ridge northwest of town, looking down on the airport and over the bay, the view is wonderful. The wind can be brutally cold on your face though and the worst is yet to come. My biggest problem, though, is sweating too much (no surprise to those who know me). If I'm out for much more than an hour, I start getting chilled from dampness. That would be a real problem on a multi-day expedition (or even an all-day expedition, for that matter).

We're only a week away from the shortest day of the year, however, and then, thank goodness, it will start getting lighter. And then, well you know, summer's just a matter of months away.

Life Stripped Back to the Essentials

2007-12-10T19:13:00.000-05:00

[Lorraine says] Today I got back from my trip to Vancouver, and I'm so happy to be "home."

I'm glad to see John (of course), but I'm also really glad to be back to the quieter rhythms of Iqaluit, and yes, even glad to be back in those fierce howling arctic winds happening right now. No flashing billboards. No video advertisements in bathroom stalls in restaurants. No 40 foot neon signs.

Going to downtown Vancouver, directly from Iqaluit, was a sensory shock, to put it mildly. To exacerbate the situation, my meetings were at the Fairmont Hotel Vancouver, a five star downtown hotel with stores like Gucci, Louis Vuitton and Tiffany's in the lobby, and long queues of BMW's and Lexuses waiting for the parking valets. The pace and the dripping, ostentatious displays of wealth, and the weird high-end luxury vibe (along with the sensation of being surrounded by a million downtown department stores) was jarring. (OK, it was a little fun and fascinating, like when I realized the hotel had "professional" golden lab retrievers, complete with little Fairmont jackets, waiting at the concierge desk in case you wanted to walk a dog. And I loved spending an afternoon drifting around the market stalls at Granville Island with my friend Elizabeth. And not only could I get a latte, but the lattes were excellent plus the barristas knew how to pour them so that the espresso made patterns like snowmen or trees in the milk froth. Cool.). But I missed the "stripped back" simplicity of life of Iqaluit.

It made me realize that what has always attracted me to the north (and to deserts, for instance) is the stark, basic simplicity that makes you see forms and colour at their most basic and most beautiful. And that, in turn, liberates me psychologically to drill down to focussing on what really matters to me. (Maybe that's my prairie roots showing through ....)

I'm glad to be home.

Dreaming of Worms

2007-12-04T19:07:00.000-05:00

(Lorraine says): So, I'm sitting in the Ottawa airport, waiting for a flight to Vancouver (where I'm going for work meetings) and dreaming of worms. More specifically, how to convince FirstAir or Canadian North to let me bring worms back with me when I return to Iqaluit (or later). Not just any worms - I want some composting worms.

Would they fly as "pets"? Or special cargo? If I sneak them into a suitcase, they'll freeze in cargo. And what if they escaped - would it be the basis for a northern thriller ("Worms on a Plane")? A little tamer than other wriggly options, I guess.

The problem is that there is next to no garbage diversion in Iqaluit. Everything goes into the landfill. Living with John the Eco-Nazi (I mean that in the kindest way) has made me hyper aware of where all our waste goes. And it just seems so WRONG to put all that good organic matter and those tin cans and newspapers and cardboard into the garbage pail. So, I've been plotting about how to, at least, get some composting worms. Diligent, odourless, ravenous for our banana peels - what could be better? The only question is how to get them to Iqaluit....

First ski of the season

2007-12-01T23:57:00.000-05:00

[Says John] Sometimes one little thing blips across the screen of your consciousness to remind you that you’re in a very different reality. When I unpacked one of our boxes in our new apartment this week, a dried up poplar leaf fell out onto the carpet. A leaf from back home on the Little Bob Channel in Bobcaygeon. I picked it up and turned it in my hand, a mottled yellow-brown (the leaf, not my hand) and it struck me that there are no leaves up here. Wow. Who knows how long till I see another one?

Further unpacking revealed a small print of a turtle that Lorraine had brought with her. I looked at it and thought: No turtles either. Very different than life on the Little Bob.

But there are things I like too. I went for my first cross-country ski of the year today (Dec. 1) and it was great. A two-block walk to the beach, then skied along a snowmobile path around the end of the bay, probably about six km out and back. On the far side of the bay, near the big tanks that hold all the fuel oil for the town, I could hear the unearthly howling of what sounded like hundreds of dogs. Apparently most of the sled dogs in town are kept tied up (out of reach of one another) out at this far end of town. Must be quite a sight. I would have had to go way out round the end of the fenced in fuel tanks to get to them, so I didn't bother this time. Maybe next time.

On the way back, though, I passed seven or eight sled dogs staked out at the edge of the beach by themselves--again, out of reach of one another. I almost ran over them before I saw them, as they were lying quietly curled up against the wind, with their noses tucked under their tails.

What else did I see? Fox tracks. Mouse or lemming tracks. Lots of ravens, of course. A big jet plane that came in low right above me on its landing approach (the runway lines up with the head of the bay).

I also saw one lone snowmobiler cross the bay, pulling a komatik behind him, and picking his way slowly amongst the big chunks of ice that get thrown up by the tidal action. I guess that means the ice is safe now (although I’m not ready to go out on it yet--don’t worry Mom). It was only about 10 days ago that there was a ship in the harbour, unloading fuel oil--the latest they’ve ever had one here apparently.

It was a great ski, even though the temperature was about minus 20 (minus 30 with the wind chill). But it’s a dry cold, and all you have to do is dress for it. I’m definitely going out tomorrow again, too. Maybe I will get in 100 outings this year. It's funny how that works for me. Before I went out, I was feeling disgruntled and a bit depressed about being up here, so far from family, old friends (like my SwingBridge bandmates), and trees and other familiar things. But after skiing, I glowed with happiness the rest of the day.

The other thing I like about the winter (so far) is NO SLUSH, just crisp snow, I’m hopping around in my crepe-soled, fleece-lined moccasins, just as comfy and cozy as can be. I love that; it's like going out in your slippers.

All for now. I'll let Lorraine tell you how she kicked butt at Scrabble tonight with a couple of our new acquaintances; I think I can say, friends.

Changing Our View

2007-11-26T21:41:00.000-05:00

[Lorraine says:] Yeaaahhhh! We FINALLY have housing. We were assigned a unit, had a chance to take a look at it today, and did all the paperwork. By afternoon, the moving company had picked up all our stuff that had been sitting in airport cargo for the past 3 1/2 weeks, and delivered it to the new pad.

So, here is the view we are leaving. This was our view for almost a month, looking northeast from the Frobisher Inn. We'll be able to see the same view from our apartment, but from a different angle. We got an apartment in Paunna Place, which is a three storey 14-unit apt building right downtown next to the post office. (We'll post more info later). It is a perfect location: 3 blocks to work, and 2 blocks from the Northern Store, making it perfect for walking even in -30 below.

Which, by the way, it was today: -31 with the windchill. Luckily, none of our stuff seemed to freeze too hard while being held in cargo, so everything seems in pretty good shape (other than a few small damages). The first thing we unpacked were the boxes of all those amazing woolen things that Ella made us, and the bags and bags and bags of dehydrated food she made for us. Tomorrow night, for the first time in about 2 months, we'll be able to have a proper sit down supper we've cooked ourselves....

Four Tidbits

2007-11-20T19:47:00.000-05:00

Its Tuesday night, John's off at choir, and the thermometer is dropping. I'm holed up in the hotel room, catching up on emails, etc. Here's four news / info tidbits about Iqaluit and our adjustment to life here.

1. BABY ITS COLD OUTSIDE: The temperature is dropping. Since we've been here, the weather has been pretty decent (-10 to -15 and dry, except for the small blizzard last weekend), but I think we're heading into DA BIG FREEZE. Time to haul out the heavy duty parkas. I got myself a "Pangnirtung hat" ("when in Rome ...") which is proving very effective at keeping my noggin toasty warm. Everyone wears them here. Here's mine:

2. OUR SHIP HAS COME IN! Wow, just when Frobisher Bay appeared to be frozen in for the winter, lo and behold a big cargo ship shows up just outside the ice range, way out in the bay. (By the way, did you know we have the 2nd highest tides in the world here after Bay of Fundy? 30 ft+ tides). Apparently its a fuel ship. Which is pretty critical cargo here -- we LIVE off oil here, baby. Everything runs off the expensive fuel oil imported from the south. I don't even want the THINK about recalculating my carbon footprint right now. I have a horrible feeling that banana I ate this morning, for instance, is probably good for 1/4 tonne of oil in shipping in and of itself! (But get THIS: in Greenland, next door, they are growing their own bananas, in geothermal heated greenhouses. Plus alot of their other produce. We have some serious catching up to do).

3. SLOW DOWN, DON'T MOVE SO FAST! One of my colleagues just returned from two weeks in "the south" (Ottawa) and was marvelling at how fast and aggressive the pace was compared to the laid back pace here. (I know, don't laugh, OTTAWA of all places ... not formerly my idea of a fast paced town, as much as I love Ottawa). As an example of the pace of life: the town is considering lowering the speed limits. There is a stretch of road here (on the way to Apex) where, for about 200 metres, you can travel 65 km/hr. The consensus is that is WAY too fast. So they want to lower the speed to 40 km/hr, just like everywhere else in town. And of course, there are no freeways or highways going out of town... just those crazy 40km/hr dirt roads (plus our one dandy paved road which is more pothole strings than pavement).

4. WAITING FOR THE HOUSING GODS: Still no housing. We were offered a unit in Iqaluit's only highrise (an 8 storey building, formerly American army facility, appropriately officially named, "The Eight Storey Building"). We had to turn it down for a couple reasons (won't get into them here). So we still await the benevolence of the housing gods, whose complicated decision making process here is akin to a cross between the movie Brazil and the NHL draft pick process. We've been living in the hotel now for 20 days, so we are going a little stir crazy (John especially, who has to work out of the hotel room every day). I really really really really hope that we'll get a place at the end of the week or beginning of next. Cross your fingers and toes for us ...

Thanks to people willing to share their lives

2007-11-17T23:16:00.000-05:00

[Says John] My turn. We're sitting here listening to WWOZ community radio from New Orleans. That's one of the greatest things about the internet. Who ever thought I'd be able to listen to N'Awlins from Iqaluit--or anywhere in the world, for that matter. And I have to say, this is my favourite radio station ever (well, who knows about ever, but for right now, anyway). New Orleans music of all kinds and every age, and mostly musicians I've only barely heard of before. And all the DJs, who are volunteers, seem to be quite knowledgable about one aspect or another of the music of their very musical town. Not to mention, no commercials. I highly recommend it.

Also had a couple of wonderful interviews this week for the book, with a young Inuk man who had just taken up drum dancing, and with an only slightly less young Inuk woman who is a throat singer. Her story was fascinating, and it always seems like a wonderful priviledge to me when my chosen work allows me to connect with such interesting people, and when they allow me a peek into the richness of their lives. For this I am very thankful.

On the other hand, I still have to turn it all into a book, and right now it feels like I'm spinning my wheels--and avoiding the hard stuff of writing. Still, after nearly 30 years of doing this, I know that's standard procedure for me. I'll never operate any differently, so I might as well stop beating myself up about it. Except that beating myself up is also part of the process.

I should take a leaf from Errol's song and become a Water Truck Driver, Errol being he of the Taxi Driver song that Lorraine posted a few days back. I just picked up his CD (called Songs From The Top of The World) at the craft sale. It's great, full of funny songs about life up here whose gentle humour even I get after only 2 1/2 weeks being in Iqaluit.

Still waiting for an apartment, where we can unpack our stuff, and cook our own food, and not have to eat fried stuff morning, noon and night. And where Lorraine can get her 10 hours of sleep in one room while I have another in which to play the ukulele. Nuff said; signing off now.

Saturday Night Blizzard Blues

2007-11-17T22:12:00.000-05:00

Its Saturday night, and we're holed up in our hotel room (a.k.a. "Home", uugggh) with a (light) blizzard going on outside. Its snowing, with winds gusting up to 70 km/hr. Very mesmerizing to look at out the window, but I wouldn't want to be out there.

Blizzard = no planes = no Saturday Globe and Mail until at least Monday, sigh. As my family can verify, I am a bit neurotic about my Saturday G&M. My idea of an ideal weekend activity is sleeping in until 9 am, then going off to get the G&M, and reading the paper all morning slloooooowwwwlllyy over breakfast. With NO talking. Only me and the paper and my big cup of coffee, preferably a latte. My family considers this to be terribly anti-social behaviour, and the waste of a good Saturday morning, and rolls their eyes at my weekly efforts to live this dream. I had John mostly used to this routine by the time we left Bobcaygeon (it was a matter of negotiation: my Saturday morning paper in exchange for whatever he wanted to do the rest of the day.)

And now, horrors, the Saturday G&M does not end up on the shelves in Iqaluit until Sunday afternoon. Fine, I thought, I`ll just create a new routine: an untouchable Sunday afternoon, curled up with the paper and coffee.

And now the dastardly blizzard has foiled my precious paper plans. No planes could fly in from the south with cargo today because of the blizzard (worse south of us, I understand), which means no Saturday G&M until at least Monday afternoon. And if the blizzard keeps up, well, I`ll be reading my Saturday news half a week late...

On the positive side, Saturday morning was freed up to go to the local annual arts and crafts sale. Holy smokes, it was amazing. Tons of beautiful sealskin and caribou coats, mitts, boots; handknit `Pang` hats (I`ll post a picture of mine sometime), bannock, parkas, ulus (Inuit knives), hundreds of carvings from the beautiful miniture ivory and bone ones to the big soap ones; and even a couple full sized 16-ft komatiks (traditional Inuit sleds pulled behind dogs or skidoos). It was pretty overwhelming.

Music Music Music

2007-11-13T19:19:00.000-05:00

[Lorraine says]: Its Tuesday night and John is off to yet ANOTHER music practice (this time with a community choral group). I promised him I would load up a short (soundless) video from his musical gig on Sunday night with the Road to Nowhere Band. I tried to load it up, honest, but I think this server is just too slow. I can attest to the fact that yes, indeed, he did play his heart out on Sunday night. So you`ll just have to use your imaginations: picture a (fake plant filled) arctic oasis of a coffee shop, with a band rocking the house. Now imagine John: He would be the one in the back strumming his heart out on the ukulele, playing My Creole Belle, and thanking the uke gods that he found a band that knows that blues legend Taj Mahal uses ukes to back his band. Who woulda thunk that we'd find Taj Mahal uke blues fans in the ARCTIC. Life is weird and wonderful.

I really liked the Road to Nowhere band, and their music. Here's a sample of one of their tunes put to a video showing Iqaluit. This is video double duty for you blog readers: you get to hear the band that John is now playing with PLUS see a little of what Iqaluit is like. The song was written by Errol, one of the band members in the Road to Nowhere. In true calypso form, its also social commentary: in this case, about the taxi thing in Iqaluit. You call a cab, and then often get taken all over town picking up and dropping off other people before you get to your final destination. So here is a taste of Iqaluit, its wild and wooly taxi drives, and the Road to Nowhere Band... Enjoy!

Musical delights

2007-11-12T10:32:00.000-05:00

[John writes] We had a very musical day yesterday. In the morning I sang in the community choir at the Remembrance Day ceremonies at the Air Cadets hall. This seemed crazy to me, as I'd only had the briefest of glances at the music at a practice the week before, but I think they mostly wanted me there to fill out the bulk in the choir, make us look bigger than we are (shades of lip-singing in Grade 3).

There were only two pieces: Amazing Grace in Inuktitut, where I handled the melody okay but probably massacred the words, and a setting of In Flander's Fields where the time signature seemed to change every couple of bars. Besides which, I had to look on at someone else's music, and it was all too small for me to see. Ah, age.

I was conveniently placed between a tenor and a bass, so I just went with whichever melody line my ear was picking up at any given time, and practiced the tried and true technique of beginning each word quietly, then sliding into pitch before increasing the volume. Choir sounded good, though, no thanks to me. At least I didn't wreck it.

It was a particularly moving service, especially when we recalled the young Mountie killed in the line of duty near here (at Kimmirut) at the beginning of the week. So young, only 20 years old, to be out on duty all by himself, so far from his home in Brockville, Ont.--and among people whose language and culture are so different from his.

Then in the evening, it was off to the Fantasy Palace (no, it's not a strip club, despite the name, but a very nice little cafe), where we had a great evening of music sponsored by the local Baha'i community who were celebrating the 190th anniversary of their founder, Baha'u'llah (sort of like Christmas).

We had throat singing by two Inuit women, West African drumming by a local drum circle, an excellent jazz duo of Jamal Shirley on guitar and vocals, and Rob Aube on bass, and then my ukulele debut, playing with local favourites, the Road to Nowhere Band. I'm counting on Lorraine to attach (later) a very short and soundless video clip just to prove I was there (hiding in the back as is my wont). Lorraine said the ukulele blended in nicely with the band, but then she had to say that, didn't she.

Anyway, I'm in (delightedly so), and it's a fine band, led by Errol Fletcher, originally from Jamaica, who also writes and sings some great calypso tunes that offer hilarious social commentary on life in Iqaluit, and Heather Daley, an excellent fiddler, singer, and local music event organizer. The other two members are the aforementioned Rob Aube (electric stand up bass), and guitarist/singer Lorne Levy. Nice folks all, and durn good musicians to boot, which once again puts me in a learning position, my favourite place to be.

Our short set included See You In My Dreams and Beaumont Rag, two numbers we do in SwingBridge, and Mississippi John Hurt's classic, My Creole Belle, done in the style of Taj Mahal's Hula Blues Band (which was already one of my favourite songs on uke, and Errol has the voice to sing it).

And speaking of SwingBridge, the sound man (yeah, the event had a sound man) featured the SwingBridge cd during the breaks. Then back to Errol's for a few more hours of visiting and jamming (if only Lorraine hadn't packed her melodica away in the stuff to be shipped), before a short but cold walk home in the wee small hours.

Fascinating community, this. I'm glad to be here. Wish we had an apartment though. This hotel food is an artery-clogging killer; can't take much more of it. On the up side, my blood sugars seem to be doing better--all the walking, I imagine.

Cheers, John

Oh yeah, and muktuk

2007-11-11T12:08:00.001-05:00

[Lorraine says]: In my list of unique aspects of working here I forgot a fun one: Muktuk. I really loved the accesss to fresh (raw) country food when I was here in 2001, and it is great to discover it all over again. Caribou, char, whale, seal, its all here baby.

Anyway, on Friday, at the end of the day at 4 pm, it was office snack time. And rather than donuts etc (no Tim Hortons up here, boo hoo), we had a nice spread of fresh game. Including my favourite: muktuk (whale meat, in this case, raw narwhale and beluga). You eat it raw, in small pieces (in my cases) and just put it in the back of your mouth and chew and chew and chew. You keep getting these shots of oil in your mouth. OK, I know that sounds disgusting, but honest, it is good. There was also nice dried char. Timmies fans, eat your heart out.

Getting to know a unique capital city

2007-11-10T22:31:00.000-05:00

[Lorraine says:] Its a lazy weekend. John has managed to wiggle his way into all kinds of music stuff already, had a band practice today and has a gig tomorrow (I’ll let him post the details).

We are still getting to know our new hometown. I thought I’d post a list of some of the unique aspects of life here in Iqaluit. (OK, I now know there are other Nunavummiut [Nunavut residents] who are reading our blog, and this is old hat to you guys, but to us it is still intriguing and fun...)

1. No-one uses street names. Everything is identified by building number. And the numbers are not necessarily in logical order according to where they are located – they are numbered according to the approximate time they were constructed. So when you use the local transit system [the taxis, see below], you say, “I’m at 1619 and I need to go to 1107”, for instance, to get from a house to work.

2. The Road to Nowhere: There are names on the streets, even though no-one uses them. The best name has got to be The Road to Nowhere. Guess where IT leads? (like all roads in town, it eventually just peters out. There are no roads that go to other communities).

3. Public transit = taxis: There are no buses or public transit. If you can’t walk and don’t have a vehicle, you use the taxis, which have a flat rate ($6) for each person, no matter where you go. It is truly amazing to see these kamikaze drivers hurtling around these icy arctic roads in old cars that (for the most part) look ready to fall apart any minutes. We are dedicated to walking, though, and are trying to not use taxis.

4. This town is a Suzuki commercial: Some people do drive, and there are way more trucks and cars than when I was here in 2001. The favourite vehicle seems to be Suzuki Trackers or other little Suzuki SUV’s. John and I had a Suzuki Tracker up until two years ago and we LOVED it. Here, the roads are polluted with them. We will NOT get one though [she keeps saying to herself, reminding herself of the commitment to walk everywhere].

5. Culturally appropriate signs: This is a trilingual town, and you hear a mix of English, French and Inuktitut everywhere. I’m surprised at how much all three languages get used in my workplace (but English is still the dominant working language). It’s great to see how everyday items, like signs, however, have a unique Nunavut / Inuit cultural twist. For instance, stop signs and bathroom signs, including bathroom signs showing women wearing amautiks [see below]:

6. Culturally and climate appropriate clothes: OK, there are a LOT of gorgeous traditional parkas and coats and winter wear here. (More on that another day.). One of my favourite, though, is the amautiks that you see women wearing, with babies poking their heads out the back (or hunkered down staying warm if they chose). Here is an example of an amautik:

7. Iqaluit has its own superhero: I’m not pulling your leg: there really is someone who thinks he is (and acts like) a benevolent superhero. “Polarman” wears a mask and toque and cape, and goes around doing good deeds like shovelling snow. Tonight we were at a coffee house and he miraculously showed up right at the end to help pack up chairs and tables. Now how many capital cities can claim a THAT....

A slight nip in the air

2007-11-07T10:51:00.000-05:00

[C'est Jean qui parle] (in French because I'm listening to Les Chauds Lapins sing Ces Petites Choses. Very nice.)
Well, we've had our first taste of winter--just a little taste, though. The other morning the temperature was down to -19 degrees Celsius, with 55 km/hr winds bringing the wind chill to a -35 equivalent. And our hotel is up on a very windswept hill, making the first five minutes of the walk to the office (Lorraine's office, but I'm walking with her every day to make sure I get some fresh air and exercise before hunkering down in the hotel room to write) quite a challenge indeed.
The good news is that our MEC-purchased clothes worked fine, and we weren't even wearing the toughest of our cold-weather gear. I could see where it wouldn't take long for exposed skin to get frost bit, though.
Once we got away from the worst of the wind, my forehead and nose did recover. Lorraine was the smart one; she had a neck warmer she could pull up over her face. But of course, the scary thought is that it apparently will get a lot worse from here on in, till about March or April. Hope we get enough snow for skiing soon.
Today, though, it's a balmy -7, with -5 in the outlook for tomorrow. Almost feels like shorts and t-shirt weather to us now.
Meanwhile, I'm working on hooking up with musical opps, and it's looking pretty good. I'll be sitting in on a practice this Saturday afternoon with an Iqaluit band called The Road to Nowhere (named after the local road of the same apt name, since that's where it goes). They suggested trying Pennies from Heaven, I'll See You in My Dreams, and Taj Mahal's version of My Creole Belle, which suits me just fine.
I also went out last night to the high school next door to the hotel to try out for the local community choir. I didn't even have to try out, just "get over there and join the tenors," they told me. Which was a good thing, since if they had auditioned me, I would have been tossed out on my tin ear. I'm definitely in over my head, but that's okay, it means I'm learning a lot, and I'll just sing very quietly until, by Jove, I think I've got it.
Next stop will be the Community Music Ensemble on Thursday evening.
I suspect I was wrong about the wolf tracks, by the way--the ones I claimed in my first post from Iqaluit. There are, after all, a few big, wolf-like dogs running around loose, and it was probably one of those who left the tracks on the hill. Okay, so I got ahead of myself. Can't blame a guy for dreaming.
Meanwhile, we've also discovered the pretty good library in town, and good Chinese food at the Navigator Hotel (The Nav, to you), Lorraine's been to a meeting of the local bar association, and as noted, everyone is open and friendly. One potentially disturbing thing: it's very easy to meet fellow southerners, but so far it's proving a bit more difficult to connect with local Inuit people. Feels a bit like two solitudes, or a passage to India, or something along those lines. Hope I'm proved wrong on that first impression. Maybe I'm just too shy.
People here are also pretty shook up about the young RCMP officer who was shot and killed in the nearby (relatively speaking, of course) community of Kimmirut. Only 20 years old. I don't know what to say about it myself at this point, other than to acknowledge that it's very sad, for all concerned.

Settling In

2007-11-04T11:26:00.000-05:00

[Lorraine says] Its a lazy Sunday morning, and we are lounging in our hotel room listening to a Charles Trenet special on the local franco-Nunavut station. John is a Trenet fanatic, and met one of my new work colleagues, Andre, who hosts a French radio show on this station. When they got to gushing about Trenet (a French chansonnieur who wrote and sang songs --- like La Mer which became Bobby Darin's Beyond the Sea -- Andre promised to devote a couple hours of his program to Trenet. Which is what it is like here: everyone seems to volunteer for all kinds of community stuff (including lots of music stuff, which is fantastic), and everyone has been bending over backwards to make us feel welcome. Its so nice.

Likewise, my first day at work was extraordinarily warm and welcoming. There are a few people I remember from when I was here in 2001 for a couple months, but many new faces. I have already found out I have been appointed to a federal-provincial-territorial negotiating table which will mean a couple trips south a year, which is good (for knowing that I`ll be able to pick up stuff in the south occasionally, like fresh fruits, veg etc).

We have had our first sticker shock grocery shopping. $7 for a bag of apples, $10 for a small bottle of shampoo, green peppers for $4 each, etc. I am VERY grateful for my industrious mother`s efforts to dry all kinds of vegetables for us before we came up. Thanks Ella!

We are still living in the hotel, and will be for days or possibly weeks yet while we wait for suitable housing to come available. Its a long story, but getting housing here is a bit of a surrealist experience. Whether you get housing and what you get seems to depend on some kind of alignment of cosmic forces, bureaucratic vaguaries, and the convergence of mysterious forces. Meanwhile, all of our household goods are sitting freezing in a metal container at the airport (having arrived six weeks ahead of schedule, and now ready to be delivered once we have housing).

We've Made It To Iqaluit

2007-11-01T13:33:00.000-04:00

LORRAINE SAYS: Well, we're here, luggage and sanity (mostly) intact. The last couple days in southern Ontario were a blur of visiting and final frantic errands, and final good-byes (for now....). So, here is Iqaluit.

We had to get up at 3 am, to get our stuff to the airport for an early check-in at 5 am, for our 7 am flight. We had so much luggage (because we had to bring bedding, pans, and everything we need for the first month or two) so we had to be at the airport early. All 17 pieces of our luggage miraculously arrived with us, despite a really tight connection in Ottawa, so we're relieved.

Lorraine's new boss (and another colleague who she'll be working with) met us at the airport, which was really nice.

And now a new and great adventure begins.

There is snow on the ground, and John is off to explore the skiing prospects already.

JOHN SAYS: And hey. I'm back from my first exploration expedition. I climbed to the top of the highish hill that backs the town right behind the Frobisher Inn. I would say it's a bit like climbing the ski hill at Sir Sam's.

It's a beautiful day: bluebird sky, a little bit of snow on the ground, and already quite wind blown so that there are lots of bare rocks on the hills, with drifts of snow up to a foot or more deep between them. Probably about minus 5 right now, with a surprisingly warm sun, but a cold wind when you get to the top of the hill. Of course, even though it's the Arctic, being the portly fellow I am, I was sweating profusely by the time I got to the top of the hill.

The view across the town and then across Frobisher Bay to the higher hills on the far side is spectacular. The picture does not do it justice. There were a couple of small ships out in the bay, which is still not frozen.

A couple of ravens were flying around me as I climbed the hill, chasing one another, and rolling and tumbling in the eddies of wind coming off the top of the hill. Swooping down to skim the ground, then zipping up again to catch the wind and soar up high. these ravens are huge, and magnificent flyers. Wish I could join them. Maybe I'll get to experience the human equivalent when there's enough snow to ski.

Saw fox and raven tracks in the snow all over the hill, and a couple of sets of tracks that I'm going to assume were wolf tracks, since I believe the huskies never get to run free.

At six thousand, plus, population, Iqaluit isn't such a big place, of course, but it feels big, with lots of government buildings, hospital, a few big hotels, CBC, mining companies, etc. I think I'm going to like it here.

And by the way, the sun came up at about 7:30 and won't go down till about 5, so not all that different than back home. And Lorraine's boss already told us even in december you still get about three hours of sunlight and another four or five of twilight, which is much more than I ever got from the bowels of Peterborough Square, even at the best of times.

John's last musical gig (for now)

2007-10-27T14:35:00.000-04:00

After the movers left, we headed out for Peterborough, where John's band Swingbridge was playing a musical gig. (It was a fundraiser for Ukuleles for Peace). Washboard Hank was there, and so was Mathias Kom, a great uke player who is raising $ for a cool program (which we support) called Ukuleles for Peace. UFP brings together Israeli Jewish and Palestinian kids in a high conflict zone, to learn to play ukuleles and eventually perform together (thus also bringing their families together). Its very grassroots and low key, but after many years of working on cross-cultural issues I (Lorraine) really believe that building relationships at the most grass roots levels are critical for social change and addressing racism and violence.

ANYWAY, political rants aside, the musical gig was fun, and Mathias raised a bunch of bucks for UFP.

It was a little bittersweet for us, though, as it is John's last gig with his band, Swingbridge, for at least a few years. You can find info on Swingbridge on their site on Myspace: http://www.myspace.com/swingbridge

SwingBridge
Roots Music / Swing / Folk

The Movers Clean Us Out

2007-10-25T14:23:00.000-04:00

Well, the movers were here yesterday and today, packing up and emptying out the house. (This is Jay the Mover waving goodbye, after packing up the last of our stuff).

Yesterday they shipped off the stuff going by air freight to Nunavut (we are too late for the annual sealift this year, which leaves Montreal in early September, and there are no roads including ice roads, so everything has to go up by air).

Tonight John's band has its last gig in Peterborough, at a Ukuleles for Peace fundraiser. (Long story). So this is it, we're leaving Birdland (we'll come back for a bit more cleaning up, but basically the house is packed up now). Yikes. We'll be in limbo for a while, because we don't have confirmed housing yet, so we're staying with family and friends for a week in Ontario, and then we'll be at the Frobisher Inn in Iqaluit for a while until we get housing.

The Magical Kingdom We Are Leaving

2007-10-22T17:16:00.000-04:00

John calls Bobcaygeon and the Kawarthas The Magical Kingdom (at least, he did in his final good-bye column for the Peterborough Examiner). It certainly is a beautiful place, and all around us, as we pack up the house, the fall colours are blazing. We are going to miss this place a lot (and John's boys Matt, Thomas and Pete will miss it, too). Here are some pictures of the Bobcaygeon home, on the Little Bob River, which are are leaving for a while...

The Great Pack Up

2007-10-22T17:09:00.000-04:00

So, right now we are in the middle of absolute chaos. The movers are coming in a day and a half (earlier than originally scheduled, darn and blast them!) and the house has been turned upside down with our desperate attempts to be ready for them. We may or may not retain our sanity by the time they arrive.

So, here's the question of the day: why are men and women so different at packing? Or is it just us? I (Lorraine) am the purger and uber-organizer. John is the packrat who has to spend a lot of quality time have sentimental journeys with every scrap of paper and what-not from his past. I roll out of bed in the morning and begin to update my spectacularly organized lists of things to do. John rolls out of bed, and begins to think immediately about how to spend some quality time with his ukuleles before the poor things have to endure the trek north. We are both working hard on our negotiating skills, and so far, neither of us has inflicted bodily harm on the other as a result of our very different styles. Moving is a real test of a relationship!