I'd gone to Tuva expecting to stay for only a week or so. Now, after a month in that wonderful place, I'm back in Krasnoyarsk. The hunting trip and week-long visit afterwards with a family in Toora-Khem were wonderful! I'd met Boris just once before, when he stopped by the hotel room to tell me, a complete stranger he'd met for just 5 minutes, that I could join him in the taiga (such amazing trust and welcomingness, which should be a word). I'd expected winter camping with just the two of us, but his best friend Sasha also joined in. These two grandfathers were my patient teachers for two weeks in the Tuvan taiga. They're both in their 50s, which was good, because it meant I could almost keep up with them! We weren't completely winter camping either, since there was a teeny cabin where we slept on a platform made of felled trees, with bark and all. But we spent the rest of our time outside. On the 5 or so days with new snow (when you can track animals best), we weaved our way through the forest in search of sable, ears cocked for the bark of their dogs. On the 11 or 12 days with no new snow, we walked along the frozen margin of the Ulu-Khem/Yenisey River at the pace of its current, so our homemade flies on bobbers floated attractively.
In contrast to Greenland or other more-industrial fishing, we only caught about 150 kg, but given the method and small fish size, that's quite impressive. And only 4 sable. All three of the other hunters we met in the two weeks also reported scarce findings, so I wonder if there has been too much hunting pressure on the creature. They will sell the fur for clothing, and either sell or keep the fish for themselves. Whatever meager earnings they make in the taiga complement the similarly sparse results of their mid-winter and summer employment- building houses. These men live in one of the least-human impacted parts of Russia (aka mining, oil and gas, and logging), but that also means that life is simple and rigorous. For example, we saw a single farm on the "road" (place people had driven in the forest before)on our 5 hr truck ride to the cabin. The two-room farmhouse (the size of a dorm room) had no electricity or running water and was the home for seven people. All cooking is done outside on a campfire, even in winter. The last night in Tuva was -30 deg. C (-22 deg. F), so in mid-winter I imagine it will be quite cold.
It was spectacularly peaceful, and somewhat mind-boggling, to sit in a boreal forest at the geographical center of Asia, around a campfire where fresh fish soup boiled (for dinner and the next day's breakfast, almost every day), in -20 deg. C (below 0 F) temperatures, with two Buddhist/"Shamanist" men who spoke Russian. And I was happy that I had learned enough Russian not to be completely incapable of communicating! They were very patient and giving men, as it seems most Tuvans are. The whole two weeks I waited hopefully for the river to freeze enough for a nearby reindeer herd (herded by friends of Boris) to cross so I could see how they are "farmed" nomadically and we could go on a riding trip on the deer. Tuva's the only place the deer are large enough to ride, so that would have been unique! By the end of our time, we walked across with no problem, but the deer did not arrive...There hasn't been much snow, so perhaps they'd strayed too far off into the hills.
Since I had such an amazing time with the kind people of Tuva, I had hoped to go on another "expedition"- north to Evenkiya or elsewhere. However, there is too much red tape. Instead, I'll stay here and do a bit of writing comparing my time in Greenland with Tuva. I now feel like I should've stayed longer in Tuva, but such is travel. You learn as you go. Today I learned how to rent skis and discovered a new race course and biathlon stadium that I can ski to from my hotel, so life is not terrible! On December 14 I'll go to Norway for the holiday season. Afterwards I will hopefully check out methods of reindeer herding in the Arctic part of that very-organized country. Then maybe hop across the border to Rovaniemi in Arctic Finland. And after January I have no clue! I'll listen to your thoughts!
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Wowee! Tuva!
Well, the Siberian Federal University (SFU) "expedition" just finished, but I've stayed on alone in Kyzyl, the capital of the Republic of Tuva (click for map). Last week, after a 15 hour bus ride from Krasnoyarsk and an 8 hour bumpy ride in a massive Russian army vehicle called a "Ural" (which drove over a mountain range and then through the half-frozen Yenisey river!) myself and two other researchers reached the 2,000-person town of Toora-Khem, administrative center for the Todzhu region of Tuva. It's between Iy and Adyr-Kezhig on this map). There, we toured around all the administrative centers (ahh bureaucracy...) and the power plant, saw my first reindeer (they're BIG here!), went fishing on a lake with too-thin-ice, and visited a bunch of homes. Sergey and Sasha were studying the power use of the town, but I was doing "cultural studies," which basically means observing everything, since the town was so different from anything I've ever seen! I can't upload any images, but I thought I was in a historical reconstruction village, since it was all log buildings, cow paddocks, huge mounds of hay, etc. Plus lots of drunken people stumbling about, it being the end of the month...
My main goal in Toora-Khem was to find either a hunter or a reindeer herder with whom I could go out into the taiga (boreal forest), to learn about local use of the taiga. After lots of frustrating comments that "all the hunters are out hunting and will be back in 2 months," on the last morning, 30 min. before the bus left, Boris and his wife visited our hotel room. He invited me to go sable hunting on foot with him next week (he'll sell the fur for luxury clothing), and to visit his son at their reindeer herd (by riding reindeer) at the end of the month! Now, going on a commercial hunt for a luxury clothing item is not exactly subsistence or food related, but it is an important way people use the local environment. Plus, I've never gone winter camping! I'm a little bit apprehensive, because I'll be with a man who was born out on the taiga alongside a reindeer herd, we'll use bivy sacks instead of a tent, and this is the beginning of Siberian winter. It's been about 20 farenheit in the day, so, much warmer than the MINUS 50 it can get in the really cold time in January. Also, Boris doesn't speak any English, and Russian is his second language. But I'm not that worried about language issues, because it's a lot easier to understand someone when you're alone with them in the forest and need to speak less than in a busy city...
Today there are only about 1,000 reindeer in Tuva, whereas in the early 1990s there were 17,000. The post-Soviet government has not been supportive, and the lifestyle is not as soft and cozy as town life. Boris's kids come into town only twice a year, to drop-off and pick-up their own kids at school! So, modern education as incompatible with traditional lifestyles. But, schooling is useful...
Taking Russian "banyas" every few days (instead of showering) was another highlight of the "expedition." These are like Minnesota saunas, except not as hot, and with more steam production. I would say my "Russian baptism" was when a Russian guy I'd just met said "Alex. Take off clothes. Put on hat. [An old Red Army hat that I think you're supposed to wear to increase your perspiration.] Lie down," and began beating me with a bundle of birch leaves, which whoosh burning hot air all over you and exfoliate your skin. It felt great! I'll have to bring the tradition back to the US!
I just purchased a snowsuit and boots rated to minus 60 degrees and a bunch of food, and tomorrow morning I'll hop back on the Ural to visit a family we met in Toora-Khem. Sometime after the 10th of Nov., Boris and I will be off just the two of us for at least a week! I'm VERY excited.
My main goal in Toora-Khem was to find either a hunter or a reindeer herder with whom I could go out into the taiga (boreal forest), to learn about local use of the taiga. After lots of frustrating comments that "all the hunters are out hunting and will be back in 2 months," on the last morning, 30 min. before the bus left, Boris and his wife visited our hotel room. He invited me to go sable hunting on foot with him next week (he'll sell the fur for luxury clothing), and to visit his son at their reindeer herd (by riding reindeer) at the end of the month! Now, going on a commercial hunt for a luxury clothing item is not exactly subsistence or food related, but it is an important way people use the local environment. Plus, I've never gone winter camping! I'm a little bit apprehensive, because I'll be with a man who was born out on the taiga alongside a reindeer herd, we'll use bivy sacks instead of a tent, and this is the beginning of Siberian winter. It's been about 20 farenheit in the day, so, much warmer than the MINUS 50 it can get in the really cold time in January. Also, Boris doesn't speak any English, and Russian is his second language. But I'm not that worried about language issues, because it's a lot easier to understand someone when you're alone with them in the forest and need to speak less than in a busy city...
Today there are only about 1,000 reindeer in Tuva, whereas in the early 1990s there were 17,000. The post-Soviet government has not been supportive, and the lifestyle is not as soft and cozy as town life. Boris's kids come into town only twice a year, to drop-off and pick-up their own kids at school! So, modern education as incompatible with traditional lifestyles. But, schooling is useful...
Taking Russian "banyas" every few days (instead of showering) was another highlight of the "expedition." These are like Minnesota saunas, except not as hot, and with more steam production. I would say my "Russian baptism" was when a Russian guy I'd just met said "Alex. Take off clothes. Put on hat. [An old Red Army hat that I think you're supposed to wear to increase your perspiration.] Lie down," and began beating me with a bundle of birch leaves, which whoosh burning hot air all over you and exfoliate your skin. It felt great! I'll have to bring the tradition back to the US!
I just purchased a snowsuit and boots rated to minus 60 degrees and a bunch of food, and tomorrow morning I'll hop back on the Ural to visit a family we met in Toora-Khem. Sometime after the 10th of Nov., Boris and I will be off just the two of us for at least a week! I'm VERY excited.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Yesterday
The phone rang and I could understand enough of the Russian to know I was late for breakfast. As the only guest, they make sure I eat well- 10 pieces of fried bread, sausage, and tomatoes. A 30 minute walk through pine and birch plantations to Siberian Federal University, where I lecture to students on climate change and ecology and prepare for my “expedition” to Tuva Republic. And then to an office so reeking of cigarettes that I wonder if I will lose my sense of smell. The university safety officer wants to clear me and my research for personal health and national security reasons. All goes well, but he requires me to draft a letter to the head of the Cultural Studies Department, who are hosting me. I do so, make sure it gets a stamp (to be official, of course), and am told it is wonderful by someone who doesn’t speak English. The head of the Dept. doesn’t speak English either, but my letter is cleared nonetheless. Then I spent awhile absorbing the deep and unreal sounds of Tuvan throat singers on the internet. Listen HERE and HERE and HERE (for a longer video with explanations also). Makes me SUPER excited to go there!
Then off to a Tajik birthday party! I don’t know if I’ve ever met any people who needed so little reason to laugh! It was great. It may seem odd, but they spoke of “Soviet hospitality,” and they’re quite right. The countries are cold and largely empty of people, but where people are, they welcome you.
I also kicked-started the planning for my trip to Tuva, since no one else seemed inclined (people tend to avoid being responsible for things, it seems). And it certainly worked! After a week when no one mentioned the trip, the entire department was abuzz, panicked, almost, about preparations. Four of us will take a 12 hr overnight bus on Saturday to Kyzyl, the capital. And on Monday morning, we’ll take a 9 hr all-terrain-van ride that ends with a ford over a potentially frozen river, before the town of Toora-Khem. We’ll stay at a hotel there and make day trips to the villages of Adyr-Kezhig and Iy. My dream would be to stay there when the other researchers return at the end of a week. But that depends on finding someone who would let me join them hunting sable or in town, and with whom I can communicate enough. I hardly know any Russian, and it's not even the first language in Tuva! So, we’ll see what happens. For now, I’m excited to go to a republic accessible by only 2 roads.
Then off to a Tajik birthday party! I don’t know if I’ve ever met any people who needed so little reason to laugh! It was great. It may seem odd, but they spoke of “Soviet hospitality,” and they’re quite right. The countries are cold and largely empty of people, but where people are, they welcome you.
I also kicked-started the planning for my trip to Tuva, since no one else seemed inclined (people tend to avoid being responsible for things, it seems). And it certainly worked! After a week when no one mentioned the trip, the entire department was abuzz, panicked, almost, about preparations. Four of us will take a 12 hr overnight bus on Saturday to Kyzyl, the capital. And on Monday morning, we’ll take a 9 hr all-terrain-van ride that ends with a ford over a potentially frozen river, before the town of Toora-Khem. We’ll stay at a hotel there and make day trips to the villages of Adyr-Kezhig and Iy. My dream would be to stay there when the other researchers return at the end of a week. But that depends on finding someone who would let me join them hunting sable or in town, and with whom I can communicate enough. I hardly know any Russian, and it's not even the first language in Tuva! So, we’ll see what happens. For now, I’m excited to go to a republic accessible by only 2 roads.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Children’s Home Boat Trip North along the West Coast of Greenland: July 23-Aug 9
This update goes with the slideshow “Boat Trip to North Greenland,” and the map "Take a look at a MAP of where I have been in Greenland."
Day 1: After a windy afternoon crossing from Uummannaq to Illorsuit, the excitement began in an iceberg-filled bay on the south coast of Nunavik/Svartenhuk Halvo, when one boat wouldn’t start, and then the other wouldn’t shift out of neutral! We, Ole Jorgen Hammeken, Robert (“Hivshu”) Peary, Jakoab Markuson, a boy from the Children’s Home, and myself drifted towards the bergs until we were able to take apart the steering lever and tie it back on the boat with string- not a professional fix, but it got the job done in a pinch! We boated north, into the golden midnight sun, until Tasiusaq hut, where the swells were too large to manage in our two small, open boats. So, we spent a mosquito-pestered few hours feigning sleep in the unkempt and now dilapidated hut until 5:30 am, when the ocean calmed.
Day 2: By 9 am, a throng of teenagers greeted us in Sondre Upernavik, where we breakfasted and met Albert and Else Lukassen, who would join us for our northward journey. Our next stop was Kangersuatiaq, through a passageway formed by 30,000 sodas and beers in crates- a lot of drinks for a small settlement! In the early afternoon, we stopped under great cliffs with thousands of wheeling birds, and then crossed an ice-filled fiord to Aappaluttoq, where we met our final group members-Ferdinand (“Aqqaluk”) Grim and another boy from the home.
Day 3: We refueled our boats and our food supply at the well-provisioned grocery store, lunching on hot dogs and coke. While the wind gusted in the afternoon, Albert and Aqqaluk made small repairs and Jakoab cleaned the boats. From 4 pm till 2:30 am, we covered 220 km, and 20 or 25 people greeted us on the pier under the Kullorsuaq (Devil’s Thumb). At 4 am, shirtless and sweating, we dined on muskox soup in the service house.
Day 4: After socializing with locals at our place in the morning, buying more groceries and gasoline, and devouring mattak (narwhal skin and blubber) and nikoq qileluaq (dried narwhal) at a local hunter’s house, we waved goodbye to the townspeople on the pier for the next leg of the journey- to Savissivik. We stopped for dinner at the site of Uissakassak’s home at Tuttulissuaq, where some narwhal hunters from Aappaluttoq stopped by. Uissakassak was an Inughuit (North Greenlander) who was kidnapped by American expolorer Robert Peary in the early 20th century and taken to the Natural History Museum in New York. The remaining mounds from the stone/peat illut (houses) were BIG, maybe 8 or 9 meters across! Middens lay beside each house, filled with bleached seal and narwhal bones. And then began our crossing of one of the longest uninhabited stretches on the west coast- Melville Bay. Fortunately, the weather was perfect, and the shore (where the ice cap met the ocean) slipped by in the distance. As we reached the north end of the bay, appaliarsuit (little auks) began to rise like so many torpedoes from the water as we zoomed by. They often outpaced the boats, which drove past the increasingly common icebergs at 45-50 km/hr! As we rounded the final corner and Savissivik came into sight, we almost felt as though we needed to duck, the appaliarsuit were so dense on the water. We were received by three grizzled, middle-aged men- a symbolic reception, for this small and most-isolated community has seen great population decline recently, and many are out hunting narwhal.
Days 5-11: We had intended to stop for only a short while in Savissivik, but spent an entire week! Fog and wind had rolled in, so we could not leave for Qaanaaq, farther north. On our fourth morning in town, we woke to find two of our four boats smashed against the rocky shore, spelling an end to our northward progression and lengthening our stay. While not patching the holes in Albert and Aqqaluk’s boats in patches of sunlight, we socialized with the locals, Robert gave a drum dance at the request of the Savissimiut (people of Savissivik), many hiked to the top of the overlooking hill and to the gravel plain beside the community, and Aqqaluk and Sven went seal hunting. We also played cards, populated the church for Sunday service (there were 2 churchgoers aside from our group), attended a presentation by geologists searching for iron ore nearby, caught appaliarsuit in nets and wowed as they careened and zoomed by overhead, went for a midnight boat ride in the bays nearby, fetched water from the single pump in town, and mulled over the fate of this apparently neglected community, sinking into the melting permafrost.
Days 12 & 13: With clear weather and abandoned hopes of continuing north, at 6 pm we returned south across Melville Bay without Robert, who flew to Qaanaaq, but with Gabriel, a hunter from Kullorsuaq who had been left behind by his narwhal party! After searching fruitlessly for hours for seals, we stumbled across two in front of Tuttulissuaq. These served as our breakfast, for we had driven overnight. After a sunlit morning nap, we drove onwards to Kullorsuaq, where Principle Sven Nielsen let us sleep on the floor of the very nice new school.
Days 14 & 15: After tea, cake, and mattak at schoolteacher Birgitta Kammann’s, we headed off to Tussaaq, an abandoned settlement, where we explored buildings frozen in 1995, the year the settlement closed, cleaned another seal, and then continued south to Aappaluttoq. The next morning, we took Albert’s boat out of the water again for repairs. Ole Jorgen and I drove out to a nearby cruise ship to ask for 4 stroke engine oil, saving us a trip to another community called Upernavik! In the evening, we, except the boys, dined on frozen seal, dried ammassett, cod, and tikagullik soup (piked whale, I believe) at the home of Nikolaj and Elisabeth Johannesen.
Day 16: We took Albert’s boat out of the water at a DIFFERENT spot, and then Ole Jorgen and I went for a boat ride with Nikolaj and Elisabeth as our guides. We stopped at an old reindeer hunting site (abandoned in the 1920s after the introduction of guns led to extermination of all the deer), where we played a game in which you jump from stone to stone, picked flowers, and ate blueberries and crowberries straight from the ankle-high plants. Back in Aappaluttoq, it was time to go, so at 7 pm, we left for what seemed like a straightforward final leg of our journey. Instead, since Albert’s boat was still leaking, and Aqqaluk had a musk ox permit, we stopped at 2 am at Arfertuarsuq hut, where we strained to pull the boat onto the sandy beach. Aqqaluk’s family had joined us from Aappaluttoq and Sondre Upernavik, where we also picked up a narwhal tusk to transport south for a lady.
Days 17 & 18: Up at noon for boat repairs, hiking and scanning the hills for the elusive musk ox, and more napping. Around 7 pm, we left for Uummannaq, witnessing our first sunset on the way, as we had returned 5 degrees south, to where the midnight sun no longer shone. A haze (of pollution?) hung over Nussuaq Peninsula. An hour away from Uummannaq, one boat ran out of gas! So, the other boats gave enough of theirs to reach shore, and I drove with the two boys to nearby Ikorfat hut, where were to spend the night until we were brought new gas tomorrow! We practiced with the rifle, sat around a campfire of local plants and scraps of wood, observed young foxes as they played around the hut, and watched the first sunrise of the season. One boy watched yet another terrible American film, and, after sleeping from 6 am till 2:30 pm, I left for Uummannaq with Albert, who had returned with Jakoab, who would stay with the boys for another few days, in a sort of “wilderness-therapy” (stay out on the land and your attitude will improve)
Day 1: After a windy afternoon crossing from Uummannaq to Illorsuit, the excitement began in an iceberg-filled bay on the south coast of Nunavik/Svartenhuk Halvo, when one boat wouldn’t start, and then the other wouldn’t shift out of neutral! We, Ole Jorgen Hammeken, Robert (“Hivshu”) Peary, Jakoab Markuson, a boy from the Children’s Home, and myself drifted towards the bergs until we were able to take apart the steering lever and tie it back on the boat with string- not a professional fix, but it got the job done in a pinch! We boated north, into the golden midnight sun, until Tasiusaq hut, where the swells were too large to manage in our two small, open boats. So, we spent a mosquito-pestered few hours feigning sleep in the unkempt and now dilapidated hut until 5:30 am, when the ocean calmed.
Day 2: By 9 am, a throng of teenagers greeted us in Sondre Upernavik, where we breakfasted and met Albert and Else Lukassen, who would join us for our northward journey. Our next stop was Kangersuatiaq, through a passageway formed by 30,000 sodas and beers in crates- a lot of drinks for a small settlement! In the early afternoon, we stopped under great cliffs with thousands of wheeling birds, and then crossed an ice-filled fiord to Aappaluttoq, where we met our final group members-Ferdinand (“Aqqaluk”) Grim and another boy from the home.
Day 3: We refueled our boats and our food supply at the well-provisioned grocery store, lunching on hot dogs and coke. While the wind gusted in the afternoon, Albert and Aqqaluk made small repairs and Jakoab cleaned the boats. From 4 pm till 2:30 am, we covered 220 km, and 20 or 25 people greeted us on the pier under the Kullorsuaq (Devil’s Thumb). At 4 am, shirtless and sweating, we dined on muskox soup in the service house.
Day 4: After socializing with locals at our place in the morning, buying more groceries and gasoline, and devouring mattak (narwhal skin and blubber) and nikoq qileluaq (dried narwhal) at a local hunter’s house, we waved goodbye to the townspeople on the pier for the next leg of the journey- to Savissivik. We stopped for dinner at the site of Uissakassak’s home at Tuttulissuaq, where some narwhal hunters from Aappaluttoq stopped by. Uissakassak was an Inughuit (North Greenlander) who was kidnapped by American expolorer Robert Peary in the early 20th century and taken to the Natural History Museum in New York. The remaining mounds from the stone/peat illut (houses) were BIG, maybe 8 or 9 meters across! Middens lay beside each house, filled with bleached seal and narwhal bones. And then began our crossing of one of the longest uninhabited stretches on the west coast- Melville Bay. Fortunately, the weather was perfect, and the shore (where the ice cap met the ocean) slipped by in the distance. As we reached the north end of the bay, appaliarsuit (little auks) began to rise like so many torpedoes from the water as we zoomed by. They often outpaced the boats, which drove past the increasingly common icebergs at 45-50 km/hr! As we rounded the final corner and Savissivik came into sight, we almost felt as though we needed to duck, the appaliarsuit were so dense on the water. We were received by three grizzled, middle-aged men- a symbolic reception, for this small and most-isolated community has seen great population decline recently, and many are out hunting narwhal.
Days 5-11: We had intended to stop for only a short while in Savissivik, but spent an entire week! Fog and wind had rolled in, so we could not leave for Qaanaaq, farther north. On our fourth morning in town, we woke to find two of our four boats smashed against the rocky shore, spelling an end to our northward progression and lengthening our stay. While not patching the holes in Albert and Aqqaluk’s boats in patches of sunlight, we socialized with the locals, Robert gave a drum dance at the request of the Savissimiut (people of Savissivik), many hiked to the top of the overlooking hill and to the gravel plain beside the community, and Aqqaluk and Sven went seal hunting. We also played cards, populated the church for Sunday service (there were 2 churchgoers aside from our group), attended a presentation by geologists searching for iron ore nearby, caught appaliarsuit in nets and wowed as they careened and zoomed by overhead, went for a midnight boat ride in the bays nearby, fetched water from the single pump in town, and mulled over the fate of this apparently neglected community, sinking into the melting permafrost.
Days 12 & 13: With clear weather and abandoned hopes of continuing north, at 6 pm we returned south across Melville Bay without Robert, who flew to Qaanaaq, but with Gabriel, a hunter from Kullorsuaq who had been left behind by his narwhal party! After searching fruitlessly for hours for seals, we stumbled across two in front of Tuttulissuaq. These served as our breakfast, for we had driven overnight. After a sunlit morning nap, we drove onwards to Kullorsuaq, where Principle Sven Nielsen let us sleep on the floor of the very nice new school.
Days 14 & 15: After tea, cake, and mattak at schoolteacher Birgitta Kammann’s, we headed off to Tussaaq, an abandoned settlement, where we explored buildings frozen in 1995, the year the settlement closed, cleaned another seal, and then continued south to Aappaluttoq. The next morning, we took Albert’s boat out of the water again for repairs. Ole Jorgen and I drove out to a nearby cruise ship to ask for 4 stroke engine oil, saving us a trip to another community called Upernavik! In the evening, we, except the boys, dined on frozen seal, dried ammassett, cod, and tikagullik soup (piked whale, I believe) at the home of Nikolaj and Elisabeth Johannesen.
Day 16: We took Albert’s boat out of the water at a DIFFERENT spot, and then Ole Jorgen and I went for a boat ride with Nikolaj and Elisabeth as our guides. We stopped at an old reindeer hunting site (abandoned in the 1920s after the introduction of guns led to extermination of all the deer), where we played a game in which you jump from stone to stone, picked flowers, and ate blueberries and crowberries straight from the ankle-high plants. Back in Aappaluttoq, it was time to go, so at 7 pm, we left for what seemed like a straightforward final leg of our journey. Instead, since Albert’s boat was still leaking, and Aqqaluk had a musk ox permit, we stopped at 2 am at Arfertuarsuq hut, where we strained to pull the boat onto the sandy beach. Aqqaluk’s family had joined us from Aappaluttoq and Sondre Upernavik, where we also picked up a narwhal tusk to transport south for a lady.
Days 17 & 18: Up at noon for boat repairs, hiking and scanning the hills for the elusive musk ox, and more napping. Around 7 pm, we left for Uummannaq, witnessing our first sunset on the way, as we had returned 5 degrees south, to where the midnight sun no longer shone. A haze (of pollution?) hung over Nussuaq Peninsula. An hour away from Uummannaq, one boat ran out of gas! So, the other boats gave enough of theirs to reach shore, and I drove with the two boys to nearby Ikorfat hut, where were to spend the night until we were brought new gas tomorrow! We practiced with the rifle, sat around a campfire of local plants and scraps of wood, observed young foxes as they played around the hut, and watched the first sunrise of the season. One boy watched yet another terrible American film, and, after sleeping from 6 am till 2:30 pm, I left for Uummannaq with Albert, who had returned with Jakoab, who would stay with the boys for another few days, in a sort of “wilderness-therapy” (stay out on the land and your attitude will improve)
Long time no see!
Dear Friends!
I have been a bad blogger. My brother told me that if I updated weekly I’d soon have 400,000 views. It worked for him! He now has five times that many (check out his minute physics youtube channel)!
A quick update on my whereabouts and recent activities:
I’m currently in Krasnoyarsk, Russia, on the Yenisey River, near the geographical center of Asia. It’s right in the middle of Siberia. At 56 degrees North, it’s not the Arctic, but it’s currently snowing, and the temperature regularly drops to negative 40 in the winter! Right now I’m in this industrial city of a million people, but I’m preparing for two trips to rural communities in the region. It’s quite difficult to do, especially this time of year, as we either have to wait for the rivers to freeze so we can drive across them, or charter a helicopter.
For the last month of my stay in Greenland, I lived in the settlement of Qaarsut (pop. 180). Only one or two people spoke halting English, so it was a real challenge and opportunity to learn Greenlandic and learn from people not incredibly influence by American pop culture! I visited and lounged around with people a lot, since that is what you do until the wind/snow/rain dies down and you can go out on the ocean. When the weather was good, I tried to invite myself on as many hunting and fishing trips as possible. At the beginning of the month it was quite frustrating, since I would ask people what they would do for the day and they would say “Nothing. Stay in town.” And later I would stop by and they would be out catching 10 seals. However, I gradually improved my communication abilities and understanding of the weather-dependent rhythm of the settlement, and people learned that I wanted to come along, so would stop by to knock on my door and ask me to come. My time in Qaarsut was certainly the highlight of my entire Watson so far, as I have never before delved in such depth into the local ways of another place.
Winter began with a 15 cm snowstorm on September 18, my last day in Qaarsut, as I fled towards Iceland, where fall was still in full color. I spent two weekends in Reykjavik, the capitol, with an Icelandic family I’d met by chance earlier, and in between, toured around the country looking at farms, volcanoes, and fishing boats.
On October 2 I flew to Oslo, Norway, for the sole purpose of applying for a Russian visa, as Greenland has no Russian consulate and I’ve heard good things about the consulate in Norway. The lady in front of me was refused, by I got my long-awaited visa! I had spend the last two months trying to receive an invitation from my hosts in Krasnoyarsk, so I was quite happy to be successful after all! In my remaining time in Norway, I took a train south to Ås, an agricultural town, where I visited with ag development researchers and picked apples and mushrooms. Then, just because, I flew north toward Trondheim, where I visited with a really nice family for my few remaining days in Norway. On Oct. 12, I flew to Krasnoyarsk.
I have been a bad blogger. My brother told me that if I updated weekly I’d soon have 400,000 views. It worked for him! He now has five times that many (check out his minute physics youtube channel)!
A quick update on my whereabouts and recent activities:
I’m currently in Krasnoyarsk, Russia, on the Yenisey River, near the geographical center of Asia. It’s right in the middle of Siberia. At 56 degrees North, it’s not the Arctic, but it’s currently snowing, and the temperature regularly drops to negative 40 in the winter! Right now I’m in this industrial city of a million people, but I’m preparing for two trips to rural communities in the region. It’s quite difficult to do, especially this time of year, as we either have to wait for the rivers to freeze so we can drive across them, or charter a helicopter.
For the last month of my stay in Greenland, I lived in the settlement of Qaarsut (pop. 180). Only one or two people spoke halting English, so it was a real challenge and opportunity to learn Greenlandic and learn from people not incredibly influence by American pop culture! I visited and lounged around with people a lot, since that is what you do until the wind/snow/rain dies down and you can go out on the ocean. When the weather was good, I tried to invite myself on as many hunting and fishing trips as possible. At the beginning of the month it was quite frustrating, since I would ask people what they would do for the day and they would say “Nothing. Stay in town.” And later I would stop by and they would be out catching 10 seals. However, I gradually improved my communication abilities and understanding of the weather-dependent rhythm of the settlement, and people learned that I wanted to come along, so would stop by to knock on my door and ask me to come. My time in Qaarsut was certainly the highlight of my entire Watson so far, as I have never before delved in such depth into the local ways of another place.
Winter began with a 15 cm snowstorm on September 18, my last day in Qaarsut, as I fled towards Iceland, where fall was still in full color. I spent two weekends in Reykjavik, the capitol, with an Icelandic family I’d met by chance earlier, and in between, toured around the country looking at farms, volcanoes, and fishing boats.
On October 2 I flew to Oslo, Norway, for the sole purpose of applying for a Russian visa, as Greenland has no Russian consulate and I’ve heard good things about the consulate in Norway. The lady in front of me was refused, by I got my long-awaited visa! I had spend the last two months trying to receive an invitation from my hosts in Krasnoyarsk, so I was quite happy to be successful after all! In my remaining time in Norway, I took a train south to Ås, an agricultural town, where I visited with ag development researchers and picked apples and mushrooms. Then, just because, I flew north toward Trondheim, where I visited with a really nice family for my few remaining days in Norway. On Oct. 12, I flew to Krasnoyarsk.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Warm!
Dear Readers,
I should have mentioned this awhile ago, but I have been lucky enough to find some very warm, fuzzy, and easy to clean clothing. The local hunters and fishermen don't wear very much while out boating, but I suspect that is out of a sort of machismo that also explains why they don't wear life jackets, despite drownings every year. I, however, get very cold while boating at 30 mph (50 km/hr) over water just above freezing, with HUGE ice cubes sitting in it! I have been kept warmer than I would otherwise with under layers from Terramar and two gorgeous jackets from Wintergreen Northern Wear. If you 1. wear clothes and/or 2. ever go outside, you should certainly check out the companies!
It is 1:40 am, and almost dark. The streetlights are on, and the dogs just started to howl!
I should have mentioned this awhile ago, but I have been lucky enough to find some very warm, fuzzy, and easy to clean clothing. The local hunters and fishermen don't wear very much while out boating, but I suspect that is out of a sort of machismo that also explains why they don't wear life jackets, despite drownings every year. I, however, get very cold while boating at 30 mph (50 km/hr) over water just above freezing, with HUGE ice cubes sitting in it! I have been kept warmer than I would otherwise with under layers from Terramar and two gorgeous jackets from Wintergreen Northern Wear. If you 1. wear clothes and/or 2. ever go outside, you should certainly check out the companies!
It is 1:40 am, and almost dark. The streetlights are on, and the dogs just started to howl!
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Too much text- read it if you would like!
Well, I’ve been busy! Arctic summer means 24 hours of light a day, so we often stay up much of the night and sleep very little, and sometimes we sleep all day. I’ve been having a blast, and I can’t believe that 40+ days have already passed. I’ll give a quick recounting here, but the photos will tell the real stories. One of the most important lessons I have learned, which I have termed “the Greenland factor,” is to multiply the amount of time anything is supposed to take by a factor of 2-4. I think it will apply elsewhere, so I may as well call it “the Arctic factor.” It has not yet been a problem, because I’m not in a rush!
So, on my journey to Uummannaq, I stayed overnight in Reykjavik, Iceland, due to engine problems, which made me miss my flight from Ilulissat, GL, a “big” town of 4 or 5 thousand, to Uummannaq, GL. Through the Uummannaq Children’s Home, I had been trying to arrange a place to stay in Ilulissat for my planned overnight. It hadn’t panned out, and I arrived in Ilulissat for a 5 day unintended layover with nowhere to stay! After hitchhiking to a fancy hotel, I ended up at another children’s home, where I played a bunch of soccer, began my Kalallisut (Greenlandic) lessons with the kids, and was invited to a family’s home, where I had my first taste of seal (super strong!). Over the next few days, I did a bunch of hiking, including going with the family through a tunnel to an old gravesite. Ilulissat has the most active glacier in the world, meaning it spews out the most ice of anywhere! And it, like almost all other glaciers in GL/the world, has retreated- a whopping 40 or 50 km in the past 100 years (approximate numbers).
On July 5, after another airplane and helicopter flight, I reached the town under Uummannaq, the “heart shaped mountain.” I moved in with Lis, a sweet Danish lady, to a house on a cliff, which overlooks the midnight sun to the north. Every evening as I walked home, I would be greeted by a gorgeous sunlit-view. The Queen of Denmark would be visiting the Children’s Home in a week, so all were abuzz cleaning and making everything look pretty. I shoveled poop from 25 dogs, which, I can tell you, was a multi-day job. Almost every day, something exciting would happen, such as a 25 year wedding anniversary, a birthday party (on mine I was given a drum song by Robert (“Hivshu”) Peary, the great grandson of the American explorer of the same name, who arguably reached the North Pole first-video maybe to come later), hiking to “Santa’s house” on the backside of the island, chasing whales in speedboats, driving boats underneath arches in icebergs, studying Kalallisut with a visiting Frenchwoman, watching icebergs collapse in the town bay, playing a trailer of Ole Jorgen’s film, “Inuk,” for the Queen, relearning a bit of trumpet, just “sailing” in the motorboats for the heck of it, visiting the café (which sells coffee, French fries, and hot dogs), etc. It wasn’t all fun and games though; I spent many uncertain hours at the Children’s Home thinking I should be doing something to help, but not knowing where I could help without being in the way or which behaviors were no-no’s, and not having the language ability to communicate any of this. It also takes a while for people to get used to your presence, and I could begin to feel people warming to me slowly, ever so slowly.
After the Queen visited, a few kids and hunters from the home, and I, were supposed to leave for a boat trip north towards Qaanaaq, but, of course, this was postponed. So, on July 18 I rode a large halibut long-line fishing boat to Qaarsut, a nearby settlement of 2 or 3 hundred, where I was invited to a birthday party “kaffemik” (any excuse to get together and have locally harvested traditional foods in one room and devilish cakes/tea/coffee in another). The difference in food, as well as pace, between the settlement and the town of Uummannaq was astonishing! No cars, no café, mainly houses, drying racks, and sled dogs, tied up for the summer. The older brother of the birthday girl happened to like hiking, so he joined me for my overnight jaunt up the hill, which turned into a 2 day backpacking tour, as our “1 day” trip to Qaarsut became 3. He spoke great English, so as we climbed 1.5 km up past teensy flowers, massive rock walls and glaciers, and arctic hares, I learned more Greenlandic. It’s a ridiculously difficult language. Completely different from anything I have studied before. For example, I believe the word “appaliarsuniaqatingisinavakkit?” means “Can I come catching appaliarsuit with you?” Entire sentences are built onto root forms. It’s fun to (try to) learn a totally different way of speaking/thinking, but quite frustrating! I have joked with people that perhaps the reason that Greenlanders often don’t speak too much is that the words are so long: “immanguaq” means “a bit,” “massakkut” means “now,” “umiatsiaq” means “boat,” etc. Anyway, after the hike, I was planning to sleep, but played tag on an old fish drying rack and stayed up all night with a young couple fishing for halibut from a small boat. It was really great to see. On their single long-line, which had 1500 hooks over 1.5 km, they pulled in probably 800 halibut, and only 40 or 50 other fish, plus one unidentified plastic object, thrown into the ocean, as people tend to do here. The work was rhythmical, but incredibly repetitive. Fishing, the food industry, and probably all physical jobs are TOUGH. But, they have their benefits also, such a location where, instead of gaping at the rising sun, you shoot at nearby whales (to scare them away from the line).
Even though I felt as though I was just beginning to become comfortable in Uummannaq, the reason I had gone there as a first destination was upon us, a multiple-week trip north along the west coast in small speedboats! The purpose of the trip is purportedly as a reconnaissance for future trips with more children from the home. My easy conclusion: it’s worth it! My only regrets from the trip are: we used a lot of gasoline, we didn’t make it all the way to Qaanaaq or Siorapaluk (the northernmost settlement), and I didn’t shoot at a seal when all were shouting at me to do so (killing your first seal is a right of passage here, where seals are not clubbed, as commercial sealers did in the past, but are harvested in what seems like a sustainable manner (I’ll have to check though!), with almost the ENTIRE animal used). “You are more lucky than lucky,” said Ole Jorgen, and I agree. I wrote a short trip report for Uummannaq Polar Institute, the organization run by Ann and Ole Jorgen that facilitates visits from people like me (and those more prestigious, like NY Times journalists, authors, the Prince of Monaco, etc.), which I have reproduced in part below.
A few thoughts specifically regarding my declared project theme:
• Many people semi-regularly consume (a few times a week) traditional/local foods that they have harvested or purchased at the local market or supermarket/general store, especially in the smaller settlements, and on special occasions. However, as I knew would be the case, it seems to me that some of the most commonly consumed foods are soda, candy, and other junk foods, along with staples such as potatoes and bread (rye and white). Very few fresh vegetables, as can be expected given their short shelf-life and the long journey they must make to arrive. Only some frozen vegetables.
• My guess would be that in the next few years, “Western diet” related health problems (diabetes, overweight and obesity) will rise in prominence, such as in northern Canada or the suburban US today. I’m not sure what the rates of lung and other cancers are, but I would like to find out, because a ridiculous number (somewhere near 70%) of adults smoke cigarettes.
• People here do not seem aware or concerned that the blubber of the seals and whales they eat contains harmful levels of pollutants that have drifted north from industrial and agricultural countries (such as Persistent Organic Pollutants, or POPs). Benefits, both nutritional and cultural, from the consumption of these animals may still outweigh any negative impacts from the pollutants.
• I have not yet gotten a good gauge of perceptions related to climate change. A few people are actively engaged in the global discussion, and some do not believe that the current change in the local climate is related to man’s activities. “The climate has always changed,” they say. However, all would agree that the climate is changing, with warmer summer and winter temperatures, less predictable weather, less culturally and economically important sea ice (6 weeks instead of 6 months/year in Uummannaq), retreating glaciers, changing shapes of icebergs, etc. People are adapting as they can, but in many of the changes are unavoidable, such as the reduction in dog sledding due to lack of sea ice. Only a few people seem to have taken action to change their own behavior to reduce their own emissions (mitigation), and I know of nothing that has been done at a larger scale. Some of this may stem from the greater importance of summer fishing over hunting, which relies more on the ice. And some of it may stem from a cultural movement about which I previously knew very little, in which many Greenlanders want to move away from dog sledding, hunting, and boating, to a fancier, more modern or mainstream European-type lifestyle. Who knows how much this is possible- for Sila (the weather, the “vital force” of the earth, or some other better definition) is strong in the Arctic. Greenland is part of Denmark, but I had not realized quite how great of a cultural and economic influence Denmark exerts. Like the southern belt of Canada over the north, or the lower 48 over Alaska, I suppose. In this regard, the people of Greenland are VERY lucky compared to other indigenous Arctic peoples, for the Danes were kind, protecting the Greenlanders from much of the harm other colonizing powers inflicted on their native populations, and actually allowing for the continuation of some of the local culture and ways.
I almost feel as though I would be content to finish my Watson now, I have learned so much and had such a wonderful time. I don’t know how I could improve or add to my experiences in Greenland, but the time to move on is approaching (for both visa and curiosity reasons). Currently, I’m hoping to stop over in Iceland for a few weeks to get a feeling for a more Nordic Arctic country (especially one that has agriculture!). Then I will head to Krasnoyarsk, Russia, where, if all works out, I will join a group of researchers from Siberian Federal University on expeditions in October to indigenous reindeer herding communities in Evenkiya (Surinda) and the Tuva Republic. You probably know as much about these places as me! You can find Krasnoyarsk midway along this map of the Trans Siberian Railway.
So, on my journey to Uummannaq, I stayed overnight in Reykjavik, Iceland, due to engine problems, which made me miss my flight from Ilulissat, GL, a “big” town of 4 or 5 thousand, to Uummannaq, GL. Through the Uummannaq Children’s Home, I had been trying to arrange a place to stay in Ilulissat for my planned overnight. It hadn’t panned out, and I arrived in Ilulissat for a 5 day unintended layover with nowhere to stay! After hitchhiking to a fancy hotel, I ended up at another children’s home, where I played a bunch of soccer, began my Kalallisut (Greenlandic) lessons with the kids, and was invited to a family’s home, where I had my first taste of seal (super strong!). Over the next few days, I did a bunch of hiking, including going with the family through a tunnel to an old gravesite. Ilulissat has the most active glacier in the world, meaning it spews out the most ice of anywhere! And it, like almost all other glaciers in GL/the world, has retreated- a whopping 40 or 50 km in the past 100 years (approximate numbers).
On July 5, after another airplane and helicopter flight, I reached the town under Uummannaq, the “heart shaped mountain.” I moved in with Lis, a sweet Danish lady, to a house on a cliff, which overlooks the midnight sun to the north. Every evening as I walked home, I would be greeted by a gorgeous sunlit-view. The Queen of Denmark would be visiting the Children’s Home in a week, so all were abuzz cleaning and making everything look pretty. I shoveled poop from 25 dogs, which, I can tell you, was a multi-day job. Almost every day, something exciting would happen, such as a 25 year wedding anniversary, a birthday party (on mine I was given a drum song by Robert (“Hivshu”) Peary, the great grandson of the American explorer of the same name, who arguably reached the North Pole first-video maybe to come later), hiking to “Santa’s house” on the backside of the island, chasing whales in speedboats, driving boats underneath arches in icebergs, studying Kalallisut with a visiting Frenchwoman, watching icebergs collapse in the town bay, playing a trailer of Ole Jorgen’s film, “Inuk,” for the Queen, relearning a bit of trumpet, just “sailing” in the motorboats for the heck of it, visiting the café (which sells coffee, French fries, and hot dogs), etc. It wasn’t all fun and games though; I spent many uncertain hours at the Children’s Home thinking I should be doing something to help, but not knowing where I could help without being in the way or which behaviors were no-no’s, and not having the language ability to communicate any of this. It also takes a while for people to get used to your presence, and I could begin to feel people warming to me slowly, ever so slowly.
After the Queen visited, a few kids and hunters from the home, and I, were supposed to leave for a boat trip north towards Qaanaaq, but, of course, this was postponed. So, on July 18 I rode a large halibut long-line fishing boat to Qaarsut, a nearby settlement of 2 or 3 hundred, where I was invited to a birthday party “kaffemik” (any excuse to get together and have locally harvested traditional foods in one room and devilish cakes/tea/coffee in another). The difference in food, as well as pace, between the settlement and the town of Uummannaq was astonishing! No cars, no café, mainly houses, drying racks, and sled dogs, tied up for the summer. The older brother of the birthday girl happened to like hiking, so he joined me for my overnight jaunt up the hill, which turned into a 2 day backpacking tour, as our “1 day” trip to Qaarsut became 3. He spoke great English, so as we climbed 1.5 km up past teensy flowers, massive rock walls and glaciers, and arctic hares, I learned more Greenlandic. It’s a ridiculously difficult language. Completely different from anything I have studied before. For example, I believe the word “appaliarsuniaqatingisinavakkit?” means “Can I come catching appaliarsuit with you?” Entire sentences are built onto root forms. It’s fun to (try to) learn a totally different way of speaking/thinking, but quite frustrating! I have joked with people that perhaps the reason that Greenlanders often don’t speak too much is that the words are so long: “immanguaq” means “a bit,” “massakkut” means “now,” “umiatsiaq” means “boat,” etc. Anyway, after the hike, I was planning to sleep, but played tag on an old fish drying rack and stayed up all night with a young couple fishing for halibut from a small boat. It was really great to see. On their single long-line, which had 1500 hooks over 1.5 km, they pulled in probably 800 halibut, and only 40 or 50 other fish, plus one unidentified plastic object, thrown into the ocean, as people tend to do here. The work was rhythmical, but incredibly repetitive. Fishing, the food industry, and probably all physical jobs are TOUGH. But, they have their benefits also, such a location where, instead of gaping at the rising sun, you shoot at nearby whales (to scare them away from the line).
Even though I felt as though I was just beginning to become comfortable in Uummannaq, the reason I had gone there as a first destination was upon us, a multiple-week trip north along the west coast in small speedboats! The purpose of the trip is purportedly as a reconnaissance for future trips with more children from the home. My easy conclusion: it’s worth it! My only regrets from the trip are: we used a lot of gasoline, we didn’t make it all the way to Qaanaaq or Siorapaluk (the northernmost settlement), and I didn’t shoot at a seal when all were shouting at me to do so (killing your first seal is a right of passage here, where seals are not clubbed, as commercial sealers did in the past, but are harvested in what seems like a sustainable manner (I’ll have to check though!), with almost the ENTIRE animal used). “You are more lucky than lucky,” said Ole Jorgen, and I agree. I wrote a short trip report for Uummannaq Polar Institute, the organization run by Ann and Ole Jorgen that facilitates visits from people like me (and those more prestigious, like NY Times journalists, authors, the Prince of Monaco, etc.), which I have reproduced in part below.
A few thoughts specifically regarding my declared project theme:
• Many people semi-regularly consume (a few times a week) traditional/local foods that they have harvested or purchased at the local market or supermarket/general store, especially in the smaller settlements, and on special occasions. However, as I knew would be the case, it seems to me that some of the most commonly consumed foods are soda, candy, and other junk foods, along with staples such as potatoes and bread (rye and white). Very few fresh vegetables, as can be expected given their short shelf-life and the long journey they must make to arrive. Only some frozen vegetables.
• My guess would be that in the next few years, “Western diet” related health problems (diabetes, overweight and obesity) will rise in prominence, such as in northern Canada or the suburban US today. I’m not sure what the rates of lung and other cancers are, but I would like to find out, because a ridiculous number (somewhere near 70%) of adults smoke cigarettes.
• People here do not seem aware or concerned that the blubber of the seals and whales they eat contains harmful levels of pollutants that have drifted north from industrial and agricultural countries (such as Persistent Organic Pollutants, or POPs). Benefits, both nutritional and cultural, from the consumption of these animals may still outweigh any negative impacts from the pollutants.
• I have not yet gotten a good gauge of perceptions related to climate change. A few people are actively engaged in the global discussion, and some do not believe that the current change in the local climate is related to man’s activities. “The climate has always changed,” they say. However, all would agree that the climate is changing, with warmer summer and winter temperatures, less predictable weather, less culturally and economically important sea ice (6 weeks instead of 6 months/year in Uummannaq), retreating glaciers, changing shapes of icebergs, etc. People are adapting as they can, but in many of the changes are unavoidable, such as the reduction in dog sledding due to lack of sea ice. Only a few people seem to have taken action to change their own behavior to reduce their own emissions (mitigation), and I know of nothing that has been done at a larger scale. Some of this may stem from the greater importance of summer fishing over hunting, which relies more on the ice. And some of it may stem from a cultural movement about which I previously knew very little, in which many Greenlanders want to move away from dog sledding, hunting, and boating, to a fancier, more modern or mainstream European-type lifestyle. Who knows how much this is possible- for Sila (the weather, the “vital force” of the earth, or some other better definition) is strong in the Arctic. Greenland is part of Denmark, but I had not realized quite how great of a cultural and economic influence Denmark exerts. Like the southern belt of Canada over the north, or the lower 48 over Alaska, I suppose. In this regard, the people of Greenland are VERY lucky compared to other indigenous Arctic peoples, for the Danes were kind, protecting the Greenlanders from much of the harm other colonizing powers inflicted on their native populations, and actually allowing for the continuation of some of the local culture and ways.
I almost feel as though I would be content to finish my Watson now, I have learned so much and had such a wonderful time. I don’t know how I could improve or add to my experiences in Greenland, but the time to move on is approaching (for both visa and curiosity reasons). Currently, I’m hoping to stop over in Iceland for a few weeks to get a feeling for a more Nordic Arctic country (especially one that has agriculture!). Then I will head to Krasnoyarsk, Russia, where, if all works out, I will join a group of researchers from Siberian Federal University on expeditions in October to indigenous reindeer herding communities in Evenkiya (Surinda) and the Tuva Republic. You probably know as much about these places as me! You can find Krasnoyarsk midway along this map of the Trans Siberian Railway.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Take a look at a MAP of where I have been in Greenland. The blue line is the approximate route of our boat trip north.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Goin' Up North (a bit past your cabin)
Dear Friends, Family, and other Learners-
If you are reading this, you are perhaps aware that I have nebulous plans to spend the next 12 months in the Arctic. Thanks for your interest!
I'm a fella'. A Watson Fella'. You can read more at the Watson Fellowship website, but as I understand it, the point of the fellowship is to provide young people deemed to have some sort of potential for creating future good (as in, every young person!), an opportunity to be challenged in a foreign setting unknown to them. The carrot each fellow chases that allows them to challenge themselves is their "project." You can read about this year's fellows here.
Unfortunately, not all young people in the world are eligible- they have to be a graduating senior from one of these schools.
I've described my project a little in the "About Me" section below. It ain't set in stone, so I'll keep you updated on my latest thoughts. I'm not allowed to return to the US for 12 months, but all I know is the first leg of my journey.
Tomorrow (Wed. June 29) around dinner time I'll board a flight for a 2 day journey to my home for the next 3 +/- 3 months, Uummannaq, (or, if you prefer wikipedia) a town of 1500 on a small island off of the West coast of Greenland, 590 kilometres north of the Arctic Circle (an imaginary line that encircles the Earth at 66° 33′ 44″ N, demarcating the southernmost locations that have 24hr of light or 24hr of dark at some point during the year).
Thanks to technology, I've been able to skype a bunch with a man named Ole Jorgen Hammeken and his wife Ann Andreasson, who co-coordinate the Uummannaq Polar Institute, where I hope to stay. Ann also runs the Children's Home in Uummannaq, a shelter for battered kids. Even though I'm probably not much older than some of the residents, I hope to help out at the home as much as I can. Most Greenlandic people (56,000 on an island the size of Mexico), have partial indigenous ancestry. That is, their forebears lived in the area before colonizers or others arrived. I'll go into more detail later, but for now, all I will say is that the interactions between indigenous and non-indigenous peoples worldwide have been highly unequal. I'll leave you to guess which side got the better end of the bargain (HINT: in the US, the answer is NOT the Native Americans).
I'm excited to:*
-have 24 hours of sunlight!
-meet the Queen of Denmark (approx. July 13)
-travel in a boat up the west coast of Greenland to Qaanaaq, one of the northernmost settled areas in the world (approx. July 20-Aug. 5)
-hunt reindeer
-learn about Arctic fisheries and marine mammal harvesting
-feed sled dogs
I'm concerned about:*
-feeling cold for an entire year
-being in a place with no agriculture, meaning fresh vegetables or fruit must be flown in
-not having a place to sleep for a long layover in Ilulissat on Thursday night
-connecting with people, especially kids at the Children's Home, with minimal Kalaallisut (Greenlandic language) skills
-separating from my loved/hated American soil and people
-maintaining focus as well as scope for 365 days
-maintaining a positive outlook while spending an entire year in a region that is one of the front lines of climate change, where numerous social ills also exist
*All plans subject to drastic changes, all excitements are concerns, and all concerns are excitements.
Also, I'm somewhat of two minds about a blog. Half of me wants to disconnect as much as possible from all technology and all that is America, but many of you have asked for a blog, which I interpret as a willingness to learn. So, the other half of me wants to capitalize on that and to share my opinions and experiences of travel in a changing world. Please know: as you are the main reason I am creating this blog, I hope to hear your thoughts, approval, disapproval, etc. Otherwise I am liable to cease posting (which I reserve full right to do anyway, if I need to appease my first half).
Adventure!
If you are reading this, you are perhaps aware that I have nebulous plans to spend the next 12 months in the Arctic. Thanks for your interest!
I'm a fella'. A Watson Fella'. You can read more at the Watson Fellowship website, but as I understand it, the point of the fellowship is to provide young people deemed to have some sort of potential for creating future good (as in, every young person!), an opportunity to be challenged in a foreign setting unknown to them. The carrot each fellow chases that allows them to challenge themselves is their "project." You can read about this year's fellows here.
Unfortunately, not all young people in the world are eligible- they have to be a graduating senior from one of these schools.
I've described my project a little in the "About Me" section below. It ain't set in stone, so I'll keep you updated on my latest thoughts. I'm not allowed to return to the US for 12 months, but all I know is the first leg of my journey.
Tomorrow (Wed. June 29) around dinner time I'll board a flight for a 2 day journey to my home for the next 3 +/- 3 months, Uummannaq, (or, if you prefer wikipedia) a town of 1500 on a small island off of the West coast of Greenland, 590 kilometres north of the Arctic Circle (an imaginary line that encircles the Earth at 66° 33′ 44″ N, demarcating the southernmost locations that have 24hr of light or 24hr of dark at some point during the year).
Thanks to technology, I've been able to skype a bunch with a man named Ole Jorgen Hammeken and his wife Ann Andreasson, who co-coordinate the Uummannaq Polar Institute, where I hope to stay. Ann also runs the Children's Home in Uummannaq, a shelter for battered kids. Even though I'm probably not much older than some of the residents, I hope to help out at the home as much as I can. Most Greenlandic people (56,000 on an island the size of Mexico), have partial indigenous ancestry. That is, their forebears lived in the area before colonizers or others arrived. I'll go into more detail later, but for now, all I will say is that the interactions between indigenous and non-indigenous peoples worldwide have been highly unequal. I'll leave you to guess which side got the better end of the bargain (HINT: in the US, the answer is NOT the Native Americans).
I'm excited to:*
-have 24 hours of sunlight!
-meet the Queen of Denmark (approx. July 13)
-travel in a boat up the west coast of Greenland to Qaanaaq, one of the northernmost settled areas in the world (approx. July 20-Aug. 5)
-hunt reindeer
-learn about Arctic fisheries and marine mammal harvesting
-feed sled dogs
I'm concerned about:*
-feeling cold for an entire year
-being in a place with no agriculture, meaning fresh vegetables or fruit must be flown in
-not having a place to sleep for a long layover in Ilulissat on Thursday night
-connecting with people, especially kids at the Children's Home, with minimal Kalaallisut (Greenlandic language) skills
-separating from my loved/hated American soil and people
-maintaining focus as well as scope for 365 days
-maintaining a positive outlook while spending an entire year in a region that is one of the front lines of climate change, where numerous social ills also exist
*All plans subject to drastic changes, all excitements are concerns, and all concerns are excitements.
Also, I'm somewhat of two minds about a blog. Half of me wants to disconnect as much as possible from all technology and all that is America, but many of you have asked for a blog, which I interpret as a willingness to learn. So, the other half of me wants to capitalize on that and to share my opinions and experiences of travel in a changing world. Please know: as you are the main reason I am creating this blog, I hope to hear your thoughts, approval, disapproval, etc. Otherwise I am liable to cease posting (which I reserve full right to do anyway, if I need to appease my first half).
Adventure!
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