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.

48 Hours

It's bingo night again, and further to my posting of a week ago, the big prize still hasn't been won so tonight's pay out could be close to $30,000! Someone's going to have a happy Christmas.

Speaking of Christmas, we're in the middle of a very exciting/nerve-racking 48 hours at the moment. Yesterday was graduation day at Nunavimmi Pigiursavik (my school); we tend to have two graduation ceremonies during the year, one at Christmas and one in the summer, as the courses we offer all start at different times and have different requirements in their hours of study. Yours truly was asked to M.C. the event - it's the third time I've 'hosted' - and if Hugh Jackman can't make the Oscars for some reason, I'd be only too happy to stand in for him.

Today was my last day with the students, and I spent most of it playing 'Copter', an inordinately frustrating yet addictive online game. One of my class introduced it to me, and I guess this was the modern equivalent of when you were allowed to bring in toys and games on the last day of school. This was always the highlight of the year, and nearly always ended in tears when someone's prized toy was trodden on resulting in the teacher having to call everything to a halt with a cry of "well now you've spoiled it for everyone, haven't you?"

Having spent most of the afternoon crashing my aircraft into the rocks, thoughts now turn to my flight home tomorrow; thinking about it, playing 'Copter' probably wasn't the best preparation for my flight, was it? Much like the way I made my friend Kevin watch the film 'Alive' the night before coming on our old school's ski trip probably wasn't the best preparation either.

I'm meant to be flying from Inukjuak at 1.45 pm tomorrow, spending the night at Montreal airport - I've already booked the comfy sofa opposite Tim Horton's - then catching a flight to Kingston via Toronto very early on Saturday morning. For those of you who know your Canadian geography this route makes no sense, but there you go. I say meant to be flying though, because the local forecast for tomorrow afternoon is not the best, and it's going to be a nervy few hours ahead as we watch the weather. A snow day is normally cause for celebration, but not when you're scheduled to be flying home for the first time in nearly four months.

So hopefully my next post will come to you from Gananoque, but I don't want to tempt fate and face waiting for Another 48 Hours, because that really wasn't a good film...