So long, and thanks for all the fish

And so it ends.

It was 1294 days ago that I first set foot in Nunavik and now it's the last day. As I leave, there are no awards, no fanfares, no hour long special featuring your favourite moments from all the previous seasons, as well as some never-before-seen outtakes and behind the scenes footage. Instead, I'm now just the man in the suitcase, sitting eating a last bowl of cheerios whilst surrounded by all my boxes (20 of them), waiting for the van to come to take me to the airport.

It's an ordinary end to what's been an extraordinary journey.

If you'd told me five years ago, when we were still back in the UK, that I would spend four years - three of them on my own - in an isolated Inuit community teaching English to college hopefuls, I'd have taken you about as seriously as a very unserious thing that had just won the world unseriousness championships. However, life never pans out quite how you'd expect, and here I am and there I was.

To paraphrase Celine Dion the blog will go on - I think - so keep looking in, but this particular chapter has now reached its end. Thanks for sharing the journey with me; you've been great company.

Taima!

Inuit Idol

Two days to go.

Despite the prolonged build up to my departure, and the fact that I'm writing this surrounded by boxes in various states of 'packed-ness', I still don't think it's really sunk in that in two days I'll be on a plane out of here for the very last time. At this stage of proceedings there are so many loose ends to tie up and last minute jobs to be done that there isn't really any time to think much further ahead than today.

James' party on Saturday was fun, and I've been invited next door for supper on Tuesday, so my adventure in Kangiqsujuaq will be ending just as it began. James and Sophie fed me on my very first day here back in August, and I shall miss their kindness and friendship when I leave. I'm also eating out tonight, as Roland is putting on a supper at the residence for the departing students, and it was earlier today that I gave my students their TOEFL results, the results that dictate whether or not they get to go to college.

I always feel like Simon Cowell at this stage of the year, the whole process reminding me of the conclusion to Hollywood Week on American Idol when the contestants are told whether they've made it onto the show or not. The students sit in our classroom and then, one by one, I call them into the room next door (which is fortunately vacant a lot of the time and was again today) to give them their results. Like Simon, I'm not one to sugar coat the truth if it's bad, and whilst I don't gain any personal pleasure out of doing it this way I don't think I'd being doing the students any favours if I did it any differently. If they get praise from Simon then they deserve it, and it's the same in my class.

As it was, my students did pretty well this year so there wasn't much disappointment floating around, but it's only now that their journey really begins. When they head south to college they'll no longer be the big fishes in a small pool, and like the contestants on Idol they're going to have to work hard to stay the course. Whether they manage to stick it out remains to be seen, but at least their fate is in their own hands, with no phone votes and no Ryan Seacrest to deal with.

Dim the lights...

Packing up

It's now my last weekend in the North, and the end really is in sight. Packing has begun, and even though I have relatively few possessions here, I still have a whole bunch of stuff that I've hardly ever or in some cases, never, used. I came here with 18 boxes, and if I were to do it all again I could probably halve that number and still live relatively comfortably. When I get home next week I'm going to be going through the whole process again as we prepare for our major southern move - more on that in the days and weeks to come - and it's for that reason that I'm not quite as hyped about leaving as I might be otherwise.

I hate moving, or at least the packing side of things, and the fact that we've done it so often over the course of the past decade hasn't made me alter my opinion in any way. I make it that I've been involved in eleven moves over the course of the last ten years, including one inter-continental move and several excursions to, from and around Nunavik, but hopefully this will be it for the foreseeable future. Frank Sinatra used to sing that it was nice to go travelling but so much nicer to come home and I tend to agree, but I bet he never had to pack. Mafia connections most certainly have their perks; two men, a van and a horse's head...

In other news, it's James' birthday tomorrow, and as Sundays aren't the best days for parties he and Sophie are hosting a potluck tonight. I'm making spaghetti and sauce (how original), and in true Keith Floyd style there will be plenty of liquid stimulation on hand during the process as, in the initial stages of packing, I found a bottle and a half of rum plus some pina colada mixer that I forgot I had. My spaghetti's going to be awesome...