Le moment de vérité

Le moment de vérité (moment of truth) is a challenge-based game show on Radio-Canada (confusingly a television station), and it was the moment of truth for Dominick, Céline, Sandra and Pascal last night. Regular readers will have met Dominick and Céline before, whilst Pascal is Dominick's brother and Sandra is a former teaching colleague in Inukjuak.

The foursome tried out for the show earlier this year (or maybe late last year, I lose track of time so easily these days), and in the summer they got invited on and made their recording, which was finally broadcast light night. Sandra was selected to perform their challenge, which seemed to involve developing the ability to distinguish one red wine from another. I say seemed, because as the whole show was in French I wasn't 100% sure what was going on; Sandra certainly did a lot of smelling, swilling and spitting though, so she was either wine tasting or testing mouthwash.

From what I could make out, the group were given a few days, or possibly weeks (remember what I said about time?) before the show taped to 'train' Sandra for the task, and the training paid off because Sandra aced the challenge on the night, correctly identifying the five wines on display in the two minutes allowed and winning some very handy prizes for herself and the team. She and Pascal both walked away with a variety of computing and photography equipment, whilst it looked as though Dominick and Céline won a holiday to Scandinavia; either that or they won a photograph of a fjord, which wouldn't have been so impressive.

It was great to see my friends on TV, and even greater to see them emerge victorious. It's a good job they didn't have me on the team instead of Sandra though. The only time I've tried my hand at wine tasting was at a vineyard just outside of Cape Town a few years back, and after sampling a number of the local products all I was able to proclaim was, "yep, tastes like wine alright." My lack of a sense of smell would have reduced the challenge to guesswork, whilst my minimal grasp of French would most probably have led to a complete misunderstanding of the rules and seen me attempt to drink the entire contents of all five bottles in the allotted two minutes before collapsing in a drunken heap on the floor.

Now that would be a game show...

What the phoque?

Dominick and Dave, Quebecois both, came into my classroom at break this morning, and upon staring out of the window they both started swearing profusely. At least to my ears they did. Naturally concerned as to the source of such profanity, I too looked out of said window and was directed to a group of black dots on the horizon.

"F**k!" said Dave.

"F**k!" said Dominick.

"I'm sorry...?" said I.

It was only then that it was explained to me that the French word for seal is phoque which, comically, sounds almost identical to the English word f**k. I now feel very disgruntled that, by not teaching us about seals, all my French teachers at school denied my classmates and I the obvious amusement that we could have derived from this situation.

It also explains why Seal can't walk down any street in Quebec without people tittering behind his back.

...and the paint's peeling off of my walls

Further to last Thursday's post, it was really, really cold today: this morning it was -28°C, which with windchill was a numbing -38°C! As I said before, it will get even colder than that in the months ahead, but for November this was exceptionally chilly, and even some of the locals found it a bit too cold for comfort. Numbers like these simply had no meaning until I moved to Canada, and although it can get so cold here that your nostrils literally freeze up on the walk to school, it's amazing what you can endure with the right clothing and a positive attitude. That said, I wouldn't have fancied having to live out in the open as the Inuit would have done not much more than fifty years ago, and I'm grateful for the haven of my (relatively) sumptuous apartment on days like this.

Nonetheless, despite the cold it was another beautiful day, although when I tried to take some photos of sunset over the (now frozen) Bay, my poor little camera simply refused to cooperate. It made a few whirring noises, the lens kind of half opened, then closed, then opened again and finally a message on the screen proclaimed 'lens error' before total and final shutdown. I think the message should have read 'it's too cold to be taking pictures you idiot; put me back in the case NOW!', but I got the picture (well, actually I didn't, but you know what I mean). Fortunately Stella, one of Dominick's Desktop Publishing students, got a good shot of the Bay with her obviously superior, Northern-proof camera - the photographic equivalent of Eddie Izzard's Stalinist oranges - and it is with great pleasure that I present it for you now (click to enlarge):

On a different note, it was the Grey Cup yesterday, which for those of you not in the know is the Canadian equivalent of the Superbowl. Canadian Football is similar to American Football, the main differences being that there are twelve players on a team not eleven, each side has three downs to gain ten yards rather than four, and the players apologise when they knock each other over. For the record, the Calgary Stampeders beat the Montreal Alouettes (all together now: ♪♫♪ je te plumerai la tête, je te plumerai la tête, et la tête, et la tête, alouette, alouette, ohhhhhhhhh......♪♫♪) 22-14, which will make Melanie happy as the Stampeders are her adopted Canadian Football team. She chose them because they have a horse on their helmet. Not a real horse, as that would make movement around the field very difficult, but just a picture.

Go Stamps!

Gone to the dogs

As I am sure you are aware, husky dogs have traditionally played a central role in Inuit life, and whilst the Honda and Ski-Doo have long since replaced the dog team as the preferred form of transport in these parts, many huskies continue to be kept as pets. Some huskies are still bred to race though, and events such as the Ivakkak cross-Nunavik race (similar to the Iditarod in Alaska) are highlights of the cultural and social calendar.

Basically what I'm trying to say is that there are an awful lot of dogs in town, and with such numbers come the inevitable strays. Many are friendly, and will tag along with you as you walk, but every now and again you will come across the odd renegade stray, and life then becomes just that little bit more interesting.

One of my work colleagues was confronted by such a stray recently, and for a few minutes she was forced to do her best impression of one of those police dog handlers that you sometimes see at displays; you know, when they wear huge 'Michelin man' padding on their arms then get their expertly trained dog to attack them. Trouble was, she had no assistance from the Michelin man! Luckily, the man who drives the sewerage truck was on hand to help beat her canine assailant into retreat before any real damage was done - not quite the Milk Tray Man I know: that's how things are done up here - but Cujo is still on the loose, somewhere.

Twice this week I've been followed by a rather imposing looking stray husky on my way to work, and whilst my perambulations about town have so far been uneventful, I get the worrying feeling that it's only a matter of time. Dominick tells me that you should look at a dog's tail to work out what mood they're in, but it's the other end that I'm worried about. Oh well, best summon some of that British stiff upper lip, I guess. Now, what would Barbara Woodhouse do...?

I want to be elected

Now here's a funny story...

I've been trying recently, with varying degrees of success, to get my students interested in the forthcoming general election (as I write, polling day is just one week away). To this end, I have some information about the candidates for Nunavik posted on the wall in my classroom, and last night two of my colleagues, Dominick (who we've met on the blog before) and Dave (who we haven't - hello, Dave!), were reading it on the way out. Much to our amusement, the Liberal candidate goes by the the extraordinarily appropriate name of Mark Canada, although I think he must have changed his name by deed poll (he was previously Frank Canada).

Anyway, the discussion moved on as we made our way down the stairs and towards the front door, and Dom and Dave's conversation (in French) ended with Dave chanting 'Harper, Harper, Harper!' (Stephen Harper being the current, Conservative, Prime Minister) as we reached the door and bumped into...Mark Canada!

If Alanis Morissette had been there she would have undoubtedly exclaimed 'well, isn't that ironic?' which would have led the rest of us to respond 'no, Alanis, it's just a coincidence.' But I digest...

Seriously though, what are the chances, eh? (did you notice my lapse into Canadian then?). Dave quickly recanted his support for Prime Minister Harper, and we learned that Mr Canada (gosh, he now sounds like a contestant in Mr Universe; 'ladies and gentleman, please welcome our next contestant, Mr Canada!') was on a whistle stop tour of Nunavik in a bid to drum up some last minute electoral support. I duly booked some of his time in order that he come and speak to my students, and this morning his whistle stopped in my classroom, where he outlined his party's plans for the North.

Such a visit is quite a big deal in an area of the country where politicians normally fear to tread, and as one of my students commented, you might not agree with his politics but credit to him for making the trip. Whether he'll gain any extra votes as a result of his enterprise is up for debate, but one thing is for sure; Dave will always look twice before he uses the stairs in future!

Casting the net

Sunday 7^th September

I am now online, sort of, thanks to someone else's wireless network which is unsecured and cunningly named 'wireless'. The connection is of Shatneresque quality (see my first post), but I have been able to send and receive a few emails and catch up with the outside world. Andy Murray has made it to the US Open final, Lewis Hamilton has won a thrilling Grand Prix only to be demoted to third and England have snuck past the mighty Andorra by a couple of goals. Oh, and Stephen Harper has called a snap election for October, which should serve as the B-Movie to the one in the US in November (although as this is Canada, perhaps that ought to be an 'Eh-Movie'). I haven't missed much, then.

Still no cargo, so had to hand wash smalls and socks. It's a rock 'n' roll lifestyle up here.

Went down to the river with Dominick and Celine this afternoon, and enjoyed a fine couple of hours fishing, skimming stones and eating berries which Celine assured me weren't poisonous. If my blog entries end abruptly in the next day or so, I will know that she was wrong. The landscape by the river is truly beautiful, a fact that one forgets once the snow has come.

No fish were harmed during the writing of this post.