The Persistence of Memory

It's now the time of year when everything is starting to melt. The landscape is still covered with a snowy white shroud, but rocks, roads and patches of soil are now starting to poke through, much like the way in which the hairs on the legs of an East German women's shot-putter from the 1980s would have poked through her stockings should (s)he have tried to wear any.

Time is also melting away, like the clocks in Dali's famous painting, and it's melting just as slowly, if not slower, than the snow and ice. For both myself and my students we are now at the stage where nobody wants to be here any more and, if truth be told, nobody really needs to be either. For the students, their exams are now long over, and consequently their academic fate is effectively already sealed. Quite why they have to sit their exam a full two months before the end of the course I never managed to fathom out but, just like the Light Brigade, mine is not to reason why.

From my point of view it's just a matter of keeping my class occupied for one more week and trying to maintain the mutual motivation of both students and teacher. To that end I always fill this time of year with projects which at the very least interest me and hopefully manage to pique the interest of my students as well. Last week I taught my class some German - they can now count to ten, ask for directions to the railway station and order two large beers, please - and tomorrow we're going to examine the conspiracy theories surrounding the assassination of President Kennedy. I'll let you know whether my students subscribe to the theory of the lone gunman in the next post.

In the meantime I shall continue to stare out of the window, wishing myself away as I watch the snow melt, and as I do it's rather opportune that the Dave Matthews Band's Dive In should come up on my iPod:

Wake up sleepy head,

I think the sun's a little brighter today.

Smile and watch the icicles melt away and see the water rising.

Summer's here to stay and all those summer games will last forever.

Go down to the shore, kick off your shoes, dive in the empty ocean.

Nine more days...

It ain't half hot mum

It's been uncommonly warm here this week - I'm not sure exactly, but I think it must have only been something like -4 or -5 today - and whilst that may sound cold, in relative terms it feels decidedly tropical. Today was truly gorgeous, and even though I've been here for some eight months now I'm still struck by the town's beauty, especially on days like today.

However, such mild weather does have a downside. During the winter months there are few, if any, problems with insects and bugs - Little Miss Muffet could have eaten her curds and whey without fear of interruption had she come to work in the North - but when winter starts to give way to spring the flies return with a vengeance, and it's then that you wish that there actually were a few spiders in town.

When I left to go on my walk today I was confronted by a business of flies - did you know that 'business' is the accepted collective noun for flies? - on the inside of my outside door (if that makes sense), and when I returned later in the afternoon I had to swat two intruders that had had the temerity to take up residence in my kitchen. Not as bad as my experience of a couple of years ago though; when I came back North after the summer holidays I entered my house and found the blinds on the dining room window literally covered with flies. We're talking dozens and dozens and dozens. Traditional swatting was never going to work, so I plugged in the vacuum cleaner and simply sucked away the problem. Genius!

Emptying the bag was interesting though.

The deafening silence

Roland was kind enough to take Melanie out for a skidoo ride last week, and today I was treated to the same trip. Having spent the majority of my Saturday vegging on the sofa this was probably a very good thing, and after a couple of hours out on the land I did indeed feel invigorated and refreshed. Whilst it wasn't an exceptionally cold day by northern standards (a mere -20° or so) one still needed to wrap up like the Michelin Man - I know that the Michelin Man never wrapped up in anything other than tyres, but you get the idea - and suitably attired I thoroughly enjoyed our little jaunt.

The one thing that you notice on excursions like these, other than the scenery, is the silence. Once you stop and the skidoo engine is switched off, there is simply no sound at all; as Roland put it, it's so quiet you can hear the silence. Without wishing to come over all existential, you really do feel at one with nature in those brief moments, and all the trivialities of everyday life seem like they belong in another realm...but then the engine roars back into life, and the real world snaps back into focus once again.

Those brief moments are well worth the trip though.

The Englishman who went up a hill but came down a mountain

After a week when I've hardly been able to get online - problems with my laptop and router rather than Tamaani on this occasion - everything seems to have magically corrected itself today, so I can at last fill you in on my activities over the last few days.

My back is much better now, but I've saved some of the pills they gave me at the nursing station just in case I suffer I relapse, which is a distinct possibility at my time of life; Sophie next door put my age at 34 when we initially met though, so I think I'll let her be the judge of chronological matters from now on.

Given my relative sprightliness I finally decided to tackle the mountain that lies to the west yesterday, and armed with sandwiches and flask I set off on what was one of the most adventuresome things I've done for some time. OK, it was hardly Man Against Wild, Bear Grylls-style survival, but it was a challenge nonetheless, and I felt a great sense of achievement upon reaching the summit. Parts of the climb were quite steep and I must admit that I had to take a few breathers on the way up, but the effort was well worth it in the end.

(click to enlarge)

Whether the edifice that I climbed is actually a mountain or nothing more than a very steep hill I really can't say with 100% certainty, but at approximately 1100 feet it certainly meets some people's requirements for mountain status so it's a mountain for me and besides, mountain climbing sounds far more rugged than hill walking. On more than one occasion it looked as though I'd reached the final peak, only for a whole new climb to appear once I'd made what I thought to be the top, and for a brief moment I was able to get a little inkling as to how the survivors of the plane that crashed in the Andes back in the early 70s must have felt, only without the need to resort to cannibalism.

Speaking of strange meat I'm currently defrosting a slab of something that I got from the community freezer earlier in the term; I've no idea what it is - could be caribou, could be whale - but I'm going to eat it tonight and I'm determined to enjoy it no matter what. I think I deserve it after my expedition!

Here we go again...

Greetings!

It's been a while I know, but I'm now writing to you from Kangiqsujuaq. It only seems like yesterday that I arrived but I've actually been here a week now, and over the course of the coming days, weeks and months I'll keep you posted about life up here.

I've already chalked up a few 'firsts' in my life in the short time I've been here: this is the most northerly place I've ever visited and the first time I've been 'north of 60', it's the first time I've ever had to teach in August, and it's also the first time I've lived next to a golf course! Yes...there is actually a golf course here, but more of of that in the days to come!

(Click on photo to enlarge)

The village is very beautiful, and you are very aware that you are living in a natural amphitheatre, with imposing mountains surrounding you on three sides. As for the spelling, I'm none the wiser as I've seen at least three different variations since I've been here, but the most common seems to be Kangiqsujuaq (no 'r'), so we'll stick with that from now on.

Thanks to Melanie I've had some boxes of food arrive so I'm not starving, but my cargo from Inukjuak is yet to materialise, so just like last year I've been living out of my suitcase for the past week. I packed more pairs of underpants in my suitcase than I did last year, but I've just about run through the whole range of combinations afforded to you by a couple of pairs of jeans and two or three T-shirts. I've also no internet or phone at home yet, and with my TV stranded somewhere between here and Inukjuak, my evenings have not been all that exciting. I suppose I could devote myself to my work....

For the time being I'm using the internet at school, but when one considers that my house here is a mere stone's throw away from the school (it really is - I've tried!), I suppose there are far worse hardships in the world. Posts will become more regular once I'm hooked up at home, but keep looking in as I'll still try to update on a fairly regular basis. Until next time....

(Click on photo to enlarge)

Not a happy camper

Well, in the manner of Bear Gryllls or Ray Mears I have emerged from the wilderness unscathed, save for my usual collection of bites which, whilst not as large as last year's, is still sizeable. One bite has swelled to such an extent that it looks as though I have a tumour growing behind my right ear, a fact of which I was not aware until I had spent a good couple of hours socialising at the school's barbecue which took place after we returned from camp. The looks of sympathy mixed with terror that I was getting now make sense.

The trip itself ran smoothly, but despite the fact that we were graced with good weather, I can't say that I really enjoyed myself. I am simply not a happy camper. I view camping in the same way as the albino in The DaVinci code viewed self-flagellation; it is a necessary act of penance that needs to be observed every so often in order that one's sins may be absolved. It is my hope that one uncomfortable night under canvas helps remind me of the relative luxuries I have at home and, as a consequence, makes me appreciate them just that little bit more.

I know I lead a relatively adventurous lifestyle when I'm in the North, but that is all done in the knowledge that there is a reasonably comfortable, heated apartment to come back to at the end of the day. I have helped to build an igloo but I would view spending the night in one on a voluntary basis much in the same way that I view camping. I think houses are a good invention, and one that we should all embrace.

Having said all this though, the students on the trip all seemed to enjoy themselves, and that is the most important thing. If I am around and about this time next year I will undoubtedly offer my services once again, if only to absolve the sins that have have been committed over the previous twelve months.

I'd just better be a good boy this year.

...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!

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.