The odd couple

Most of the teachers who went south for Easter returned yesterday - I say most, because there are still one or two who, for various reasons, are not back yet - and with James and Sophie already having returned my house sharing adventure with Jacob has now begun.

As I have said before I am ostensibly a private person, preferring my socializing to be done on my own terms, but when one considers that my reintegration into society is now less than a month away, a little company is probably not such a bad thing. I used to love watching The Odd Couple when I was growing up, and over the course of the next few weeks we'll be finding out which one of us is Felix and which one of us is Oscar.

On the work front, most of my students don't return until tomorrow so I had myself a personal ped day today, and with this Friday being Culture Day I only have a three day teaching week this week. Nice. So, bearing in mind the possibility that I might actually be leaving a few days earlier than planned - more on that later in the week (maybe) - I make it that I have just thirteen, perhaps fourteen, teaching days left in the North. It's the beginning of the end...

The final furlong

Horse racing has little or no profile in Canada, but back in the UK it was Grand National day yesterday, and whilst I have never been the greatest of gamblers I always enjoyed a bet on the National. Some years I would study the form and make the whole thing a very scientific process, some years I would just go by the horses' names; I even dreamt the winner one year and yes, it won! As you may have guessed though, I didn't put much money on that year - I always went by the adage of 'never gamble more than you can afford to lose', which kind of defeats the whole purpose of gambling really, but there you go - and consequently here I am, still eking out an honest living.

The way I make that living, and where I make it, is all about to change though. Although nothing is signed, sealed and delivered just yet, it would seem that a new career at King's Town School beckons, and consequently, after four years in the North, I've now entered what looks like being my final four weeks here. There are going to be many instances of 'doing something for the last time syndrome' over the coming month and, who knows, I may well have done some things for the last time already.

Whilst working in the North has brought with it many frustrations, I have by and large enjoyed my experience. I have seen and done things that I would not have seen and done otherwise, and I have met people the like of who I would never have had the chance to meet in my normal walk of life. Since leaving the UK some five years ago the North has very much become 'my Canada', and I know that my outlook on many things in this life of ours has been changed as a result. Without wishing to sound pretentious I think I am a better person for it all or, at the very least, a different person; perhaps it's best left up to others to decide on whether different is actually better.

For everything there is a season though - it's normally winter up here - and, for a number of reasons, I think the time is now right for change. A full five years after moving to Canada it would seem that enough dues have now been paid to have earned Melanie and I the opportunity to be living and, hopefully, working together again, and whilst I have always been very much aware of my 'geographical impotence' up here, a series of recent, unfortunate events in the lives of my friends and family has done much to bring that awareness into even sharper focus. As I said at the start of this post, I have never been much of a gambler. Any move, be it career or physical, is always going to be something of a gamble, and I am about to do both. On this occasion I'm happy to roll the dice though, and I'm prepared to deal with the outcome, whatever it may be.

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.

Weekend at Curt's

You just couldn't write this (although, in actual fact, someone already did, sort of). Do you remember the film Weekend At Bernie's? If not, it was about two young guys who, for reasons I won't go into now, carry their dead boss around with them for the weekend in an effort to convince everyone else that he's still alive.

Well, it would seem that two women in Liverpool have tried to recreate said movie with the deceased husband of one of them as the reluctant star. The widow and step-daughter of 91-year-old Curt Jarant tried to take poor Curt onto a flight to Berlin with them last weekend, and when they were questioned about his somewhat limp demeanour they claimed that Curt, who was wearing sunglasses and was in a wheelchair, was merely 'asleep.'

"A dead person you cannot carry to Germany, there are too many people checking and security. How can you bring a dead person to Germany?" claimed Ms Anke Anusic, Curt's step-daughter. She then went on to add: "They would think that for 24 hours we would carry a dead person? This is ridiculous. He was moving, he was breathing. Eight people saw him."

Eight people. Not seven, or nine, but eight. And, as Ms Anusic quite rightly points out, the absurdity of taking a dead person to Germany; unbelievable! Austria maybe, perhaps the Republic of Macedonia or maybe even France on a Friday afternoon but Germany? Who would try such a thing?

The case continues, and in the meantime Curt remains unclaimed on the baggage carousel along with a Gola sports bag and a purple suitcase with a yellow ribbon attached to the handle.

Kitchen nightmares

As I mentioned yesterday, I celebrated my houses's rehydration with a bout of baking, and I think it's fair to say that I did a half good job. Without it being an exaggeration, I've done more baking over the course of the last year or so than in the rest of my life put together, and whilst my historical lack of culinary prowess doesn't exactly make that a difficult feat, it's still been something of a personal revelation.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not putting myself in the Gordon Ramsay league as packets and instructions still largely dictate my cooking technique, but I've been branching out and yesterday I made my first ever quiche which, even if I say so myself, came out rather well. It was a bacon and broccoli affair, and whilst Chef Ramsay would most likely have taken a forkful and declared it to be bland, I was very pleased.

I said at the beginning of this post that I did a half good job though, and there was indeed a downside to my relative success with the quiche. I also made a couple of apple pies, which should have been in the oven for around an hour, but they ended up baking for considerably longer. When I spoke to Melanie on the phone in the evening I proudly told her all about my adventures in baking, but as I was doing so I remembered the apple pies, and the fact that they were still in the oven.

It wasn't as bad as my spoon-based misadventures from earlier in the year, but after three and a half hours I don't think the pies were as moist as they could have been; apple crisp is a popular dish in these parts, but these were more like apple burnt-to-a-crisp. I probably do myself an injustice there as I think what emerged is still going to be edible, but a large amount of apple filling remained in the oven having burst through the pie crusts, and is now charcoaled in lumps at the bottom in a small-scale recreation of the last day of Pompeii.

I'm currently debating as to whether I should clean up the mess since it could eventually be of archaeological interest to future generations, but as I'm still going to be here for the next month I think history is going to have to lose out on this occasion. I'm going to make a cake at the weekend though...

Deliverance

After another round of fruitless phone calls to the Water Plant this morning, I packed up all my dirty washing (as opposed to my clean washing) and my shower kit and headed off once again to the residence. The weather was very clear today so at least there was no blizzard to struggle through, and after a couple of hours of washing both myself and my clothes I made my way back home, ever in hope that one of the water trucks might have brought deliverance whilst I was out.

And, lo and behold, as I rounded the corner towards my house, what did I see coming up the road towards me? The truck hadn't got as far as my house yet, so I took it upon myself to make a final stand. I determined in my mind that I would stand in the road, much like a cross between Gandalf and the Chinese student who stood in front of the tank in Tiananmen Square, and I would not let the truck go by without it first stopping to fill up my water tank.

YOU...SHALL...NOT...PASS!

Whether as a result of my bravery or just because it was going to do so anyway, the truck dutifully stopped outside my house just as I made it down the slope that leads to my front door, and in a mixture of elation and trepidation - they had quite literally made a dry run yesterday, remember - I watched as the hose was attached to my water outlet. The water began pumping, and I dashed inside to check the supply before they left.

After an initial brown surge the water began flowing clearly once again, and my three day drought was finally over. It was all in the nick of time too, because James and Sophie, along with Noah and Evie (and Igakk the dog) arrived a couple of hours later, and as my house and theirs share a common water tank, it was not a moment too soon. All is now back to normal, and I have celebrated by baking up a storm in the kitchen (results tomorrow), and washing up without having to leave the house. Oh happy day.

Water torture

The water and sewage trucks were impressively still in service today despite the fact that it was Easter, and one of the water trucks duly paid a visit to my house. However, it didn't stop for long, which either means that my tank was already full and that consequently there must be a problem with the plumbing, or that it had no water on board and merely stopped to mock me. Either way I still had no running water, and I had to make another trip to the residence as a result. My sink was now full of washing up, so I transferred it all into a couple of bags and made my way into the frozen yonder.

There was a blizzard outside (best place for it if you ask me) but I had to go, and I must have cut a very absurd figure as I struggled through the snow and wind with my bags of dirty cups, plates and cutlery. Had I succumbed to the elements en route, goodness knows what people would have thought when they eventually discovered my body, but fortunately I made it there and back. Hopefully things will change tomorrow, but if not I might consider moving into the residence on a semi-permanent basis until my water supply is restored. I know that there are many worse problems in the world, but this is one aspect of life in a Northern town that I won't miss once I've left.

Oh, happy Easter by the way.

Water, water, every where...

My holiday has not got off to the best of starts.

I woke up this morning to find that I don't have any water. As I have mentioned before, trucks deliver all the water to the houses here and then take away all the sewage - in a different truck, thankfully - so if the trucks don't run or for some reason miss you out then you have a problem. The service in Kangiqsujuaq is actually pretty good - my warning lights have only come on twice in the whole year, whereas in Inukjuak it was a far more regular occurrence - but I'm now in a totally dry house.

It's at times like these that you fully appreciate just how much water you use in a day and what you use it for, and whilst I'm in no way likening my plight to that of the Ethiopians, the whole situation is most inconvenient. I fully appreciate the irony of being surrounded by snow and ice but not having a drop of potable water in the house, and I know I most certainly would not have made a good Inuk in the times when they still lived off the land.

I have been playing phone tag for most of the day trying to get a water delivery, but so far my efforts have been in vain. I walked up to the residence and filled up a couple of water jugs there so at least I have some modest rations to see me by in the short term, but with this being the Easter long weekend I'm not entirely sure when I'm next going to see the 'truck of life.' So be thinking of me as you unwrap your Easter eggs, and raise a glass to me at your dinner table; if it's full of water though, would you mind just keeping it to one side...

The Long Good Friday

The Ivakkak crossed the finish line yesterday, and it would seem that I spoke too soon about Noah Annahatak's chances of victory. As I was writing Wednesday's post poor Noah and his team tumbled down a hill and off the trail in whiteout conditions; everyone was okay, but the time lost as a result put Noah behind Willie Cain from Tasiujaq, and he was unable to bridge the gap before the race finished in Kuujjuaq. You can see the final results here.

On the home front I'm now officially on holiday, and I'm looking forward to a week of doing absolutely nothing. Some of the teachers are staying in town but most have left for the week, and I now have ten days to relax before what is likely to be my final four weeks in the North. James and Sophie, my erstwhile neighbours, will be returning after the Easter break as they have now finished their paternity/maternity leaves, and as a result Jacob, my current neighbour (who has been working as a replacement teacher but is now staying on until the end of the year), will be moving in with me when he gets back from holiday next weekend.

I enjoy my own space and I'm basically a private person at heart, so I'm not sure how I feel about house sharing, but Jacob is a good guy - I have to say that in case he's reading - and it's only for four weeks so I'm sure we'll both cope. Good job that whole thing with the igloos isn't going to happen after all; something about the date, apparently.

A moving story

Climate change has long been affecting the way of life in the North, and this was further evidenced by the news that we all received this morning. It would seem that the permafrost has now melted to such an extent that most of the housing here will have to be condemned as the foundations are now too unstable, and as a result we are going to have to be housed in igloos until the problem can be resolved.

This is obviously a most inconvenient situation and could well affect my ability to update the blog as getting a reliable electricity supply in an igloo is not always possible, but I will do my best to keep you all informed of any developments. For now though I will just have to start packing and hope that I am given an igloo big enough for all my things.

Not the best start to the month, eh?