Top of the World

Inuit sculpture in front of a building

My work took me to the top of the world last week. Flying over the stark frozen tundra and then landing in Iqaluit to the frigid Arctic elements felt like a homecoming of sorts; oddly familiar.
I had my boss in tow who was eager to see and experience all the far North had to offer.

The exquisite beauty of this place is borne from the life, art and spirit that has emerged and endured what appears to be a harsh, inhospitable environment. We were met with the smiles and shy nods of the Inuit people who hosted an influx of 600 to their tiny city of 6,000. We befriended the security guard named Israel who served more as our willing concierge than anything. He motioned to his uncle Lazarus (the interpreter for the conference) to ask where we could find Moses, the elder who made ulus. Lazarus figured that he was probably still at the deli having coffee with the elders, but offered to take us to his shop on the break so we could check out his wares. He did not disappoint. In amongst the metal dust and well worn grinders and tools we found more than ulus - we found pride of workmanship and friendship. We had an easy banter with our new friends and they sent us on our way with a happy heart - the lighthearted happy that comes with connecting with another human being on the most positive terms.

It was -29 degrees Celsius for most of the trip but the community was warm. I happily snapped photos with my phone as we moved about the city. And just maybe I was singing "I'm at the top of the world..." (in my head, anyway.)

 And now I share a few of them with you for your viewing pleasure.

Iqaluit Airport

View from my hotel facing the harbour

Walking about the city

Contemporary art -- he's on a cell phone!

Same sculpture from a different angle

Government building - art is everywhere

Hand made ulus

Proud to Be Canadian, eh?

Couldn't let Canada Day pass without mention. We Canadians are a humble bunch; we lean on the reserved side of things and are taught at an early age to be polite, gracious, and to not draw attention to ourselves. And those are the general, collective attributes of our nation.

But on July 1st. we are like kids running wild in a Toys R Us. We leave "reserved" packed and let our red and white fly. We wrap ourselves in our flag and let our deep seated national pride loose. Even at the lake almost every dock raised a flag.

Canada Day conjures up deep feelings of gratitude in me. I realize that being born in one of the greatest, safest and most liberated and caring countries was pure luck - a lottery win. Lucky, fortunate, grateful me.

I love this grand land we call Canada. I have stood on the shorelines and inhaled the salty air from the oceans on all three coasts - west, east and north. I have travelled across the country and been awestruck by the diversity and vastness of our land; majestic mountains, golden  prairie flat lands, infinite treeless tundra, lush green forests and crystal blue lakes, quaint small towns, and spicy cities. And the population is as diverse as the geography.

So today I remember those who are not as lucky as I, and who cannot lay their head on a soft pillow and sleep soundly knowing that they are safe, sufficed and free. Oh Canada - how I love thee, from sea, to sea, to shining sea.

Highlights from a Monumental Day

Today was monumental in more than the usual ways...

Canada celebrated its tenth anniversary of legalized same sex marriage, something that represents so much more to me. Legitimizing gay marriage not only promotes family, it acknowledges the diverse nature of relationships and symbolizes social acceptance - entrenching a fundamental human right for all. And personally, it makes me happy that all my children will have the same rights and opportunities to marry who they wish and create families that are legal and fully recognized by society.

Photo courtesy of www.huffingtonpost.ca

I had just turned on my radio when I heard the news that our singing astronaut Cmdr Chris Hadfield announced his resignation from the Canadian Space Agency and was planning to move from Houston to plant himself back on Canadian soil. He has inspired me and while he held court high above Earth, he was the first Tweeter I checked in the morning to see what quip or picture he posted - and the last I checked before bed -- to catch his finale post. Thank you Chris Hadfield for your service, for sharing your experience and dream and for reminding us that we are citizens of the world. It is the end of a stupendous run... an another reason why I am so proud to be Canadian. *wildly wave flag*

Photo courtesy of www.empowernetwork.com

And lastly, I finally filed my 2012 income tax return. Okay, I was a little late but a small refund is in order and all is good in my world. 

Northern Reflections

When opportunity comes knocking -- you have to answer - ready or not. Last week I had the good fortune to travel to Yellowknife, a quaint, eclectic little town in Canada's Northwest Territories. I've been there twice before, but always cloaked in the dark of nighttime in a layover on my way to the high North to visit my Dad.   Of course it was a no brainer to leap at the chance to explore Yellowknife by the light of day.

So with down parka and trusty camera on hand, I landed in the tiny airport in which a huge stuffed polar bear stands poised over the baggage carousel, ready to pounce.

I had a day and a half to wander each and every street, alley and pathway in the crunchy, frigid north land  The north has its own brand of tranquility; the expanse of sky is wider and darker, brimming with starlight; the air is pure - turbo charged with oxygen; and there is a dead silence between sounds.

The town is friendly and welcoming with an unexpected Hawaiian-like aloha vibe. These people are well versed in going with the flow. Faces of all colours and cultures from far away places dot the citizen-scape. My cab driver explained that he was an engineer from Sudan who was driving a cab until other work opened up. The woman behind the check-in counter at my hotel was Philippino and expressed her envy of city shopping when I told her where I was from. When I asked if there were any Asian food restaurants  she laughed; apparently there is a booming Asian population and there are an abundance of Vietnamese and Chinese food restaurants. Who knew?

There is art everywhere, from professional polished bronze carvings affixed on buildings, to  grassroots flavoured, hand-painted scenes on garage doors.

As I peered out the plane window, with the frozen terrain fading into the clouds, I couldn't help thinking that this magical place is indeed one of the last frontiers; a mystery waiting to be discovered. Lucky me.

Here are a few captures from Yellowknife:

We Remember

The air was fresh and woodsy; typical for a fall day. Walking without talking, deep in thought, kicking the leaves to hear the crunch, making my way to the local Remembrance Day service.

They arrived beneath the tall pines from all directions; all ages; hundreds of people, poppies pinned, congregating in eerie silence. The wistful strains from the Salvation Army ensemble got louder upon approach.

We stood a little taller, straighter, waiting by the cenotaph. The front row was reserved for veterans, experience mapped in the lines and creases on their wizened faces. Some stood tall and proud, while others sat hunched, bundled in blankets. 

The mournful call of the bag pipes sounded in the distance, and the rhythm of the marching parade drew closer, signalling the start of the proceedings. As we sang O Canada the breeze picked up the flag that was hung at half mast.

I studied the faces of the old and the uniformed. What was going through their minds as The Last Post was played? Did memory reels of horrific and tragedy replay? I saw a lone tear roll down the cheek of a tall elderly veteran as he stood at attention, saluting. 

The weight of sacrifice hung heavy in the air, and I couldn't help be overcome with emotion. I was saddened by the waste of war; that such a sacrifice is asked of our soldiers. I mourned the lives unlived, and the lives that were devastated and forever changed by that which they endured, survived and witnessed.

The carnage and human toll of war is unfathomable. And I walked away wondering when we will collectively decide there has to be a better way to resolve conflicts. I walked away with a deep respect for the grace and honour displayed by our men and women who have served, and who serve.

And for my part, the least that I could do, was pause for two minutes under the towering pines, in the fresh autumn air to remember.

Canada Day

My skin is noticeably soft after a dip in the lake, and my hair puffs to twice its volume. It’s remarkable the difference fresh water devoid of chlorine and other chemicals can make. 

The lake is teeming with life, both of the animal and plant variety, all of which have made an appearance this weekend. Muskrats were laughing - as only they can - from the cove beside the dock; fish jumped out of the water trying to escape the patrolling snapping turtle; and ravens, hawks and the falcon soared overhead.

A dockside Muskoka chair is the perfect vantage point for Canada Day; inhaling nature, being lulled into relaxation by lapping of the water. Add family to the mix and the day moved beyond perfect, to memorable.

A memorable, perfect day at the cottage with moist chocolate cake shaped like the Canadian flag. It doesn’t get any better than that …. Oh Canada!

Eat cake!

Good-byes at day's end.

Arctic Longings



Spirit of the Arctic - photo by Lyn

I found another reason to sit on the couch ... a new Canadian television show called Arctic Air. It is set in the high north and the story revolves around an airline in the Northwest Territories. I'm addicted. It takes me  back to when my dad was working in Cambridge Bay - now called Ikaluktutiak (say that after a few drinks). Picture a six foot two beefy white man bundled in a puffy down parka moving amongst the diminuitive Inuit people. And he swears he assimilated! He lived his dream and while he was doing it, I took the opportunity to venture up to the top of the world for a visit; actually two - one in the summer and another for the winter experience. I could write post after post about the experience but I will leave that up to my dad, Polar Bear from Peering Through a Porthole.

I have never heard silence like that which I experienced out on the land. My dad and I were sitting on our ATVs out on the tundra, watching the sun roll around in the sky (it doesn't set in the summer) and inhaling the stark, majestic beauty when he asked, "Lyn - what do you hear?"
"Nothing - not a thing" I answered.
"That's right" he nodded, quiet satisfaction written all over his face.

And in the absence of any competing sounds (e.g. traffic, planes, city hum), if you listen very carefully, you can hear the whispers of the land, sharing its sacred secrets; you can hear the beating of your heart and the rhythms of your life; meditation is imposed.

On my last night in Nunavut my friend and I built an inukshuk as a marker that we had been there to that magical place. My dad the consummate collector had rescued a small anorak from the landfill and when I placed it beside our inukshuk to take the shot, I felt as though I was photographing the Spirit of the Arctic. My inukshuk lasted several winters and when my dad left the north, it was still standing.

Watching the landscapes and listening to the distinct Inuit clipped, blunt speech on the tv show has stirred a yearning for the Arctic. I wonder if I will ever again hear the profound sound of silence of our North. I wonder if my inukshuk has withstood the test of time - as well as my memories.

The North has much to teach us. If you are interested in Inuit culture, this will be a wonderful resource.

Around Town

A full week into January and winter is still sidelined; although on a particular day you can feel a hint of frigid in the wind. But this morning the sun streaming in my window signaled another day of glorious weather and coaxed hubby and I down to the lake to enjoy the reprieve.

So Sunday was spent as it was meant to be .,. in the sun, walking about our picturesque little town. The oaks stand mighty; the heritage homes are reminiscent of English manors; the main street is thriving and alive, and the lake hugs the community with deep affection.

Today was as close to perfect as you could get. Soon my pictures will be of a snowy, frozen world but until then, I am grateful for the above freezing temps, sunshine and freshness that is our January - for now. Here are scenes from our day.

Hot tea in a starry mug