The final curtain (part one)

As I write I’m sitting outside Tim Horton’s at Montreal’s Trudeau Airport, it's 10.30 on Friday night and I'm waiting for the flight that will form the final leg of my journey home tomorrow morning. As predicted, it was a hectic last week in Inukjuak – a contributing factor towards the lack of posts in that time – and it was a week that maybe ended one chapter but perhaps began another.

It was with mixed emotions that I hosted our graduation ceremony on Thursday. It was the fifth time that I’ve acted as host, thus making me something like the Bob Hope or the Billy Crystal of the North, and whilst a lot of effort goes into organising the event, it is always gratifying when, eventually, the day runs relatively smoothly. Proceedings were delayed this time around as we had to wake up one of the graduates who’d fallen asleep after a large lunch, but other than that the afternoon ran pretty well.

On a personal level, the most gratifying moment of the day came when I was approached by two women (you both know who you are!) at the graduation meal in the evening. Both parties clearly knew who I was, but there they had the advantage as I couldn’t place them at all. However, all was then revealed as they both explained that before coming North to work, they had discovered the blog during their research and, much to my delight, had still decided to come! It was quite a novel experience to meet one’s ‘public,’ and it just goes to prove that, despite whatever isolation one may feel, we really do inhabit a small world.

Now I'm back, I have once again been reminded of some of the many differences between the North and the South. Cellphones are prevalent once more. I was just able to buy a beer at a bar. All the people that I am now surrounded by all seem to be in such a hurry. And I have even seen a number of people wearing masks, no doubt trying to protect themselves from the swine flu despite the fact that they are more likely to die in the twisted wreckage of the plane that they’ve just flown on or are about to catch. I have a compelling urge to run up to them and cough in their face whilst performing the Mexican Hat Dance. Come on, people!

Anyway, porcine-induced death permitting, I shall be home within the next twelve hours and free to contemplate both what has been and what is to come. A chef friend of mine once said that ‘in the kitchen, there are always possibilities’; at the moment, life is my kitchen.