birthday party

I got invited to a two-year-old boy's birthday party one weekend and I was really excited about it, which I think is an indication of the state of my social life. I like birthday parties, especially kids' birthday parties, and now that I'm not a kid anymore, I don't get invited to a lot of children's birthday parties, since, you know, I don't have children.

Plus this birthday had a bouncy castle!

 

Yes, there are bouncy castles for rent in Cambridge Bay!

I might be wrong about this, but they didn't have bouncy castles when I was a kid, so I missed out on that whole thing, which makes me kind of sad about my deprived childhood.  Because now as an adult it's kind of uncool for me to be joining in the bouncy castle with all the little kids; at least that was the impression that I got from all the weird looks I got from the children.

Plus the occupancy notice of the castle said that the maximum occupancy is about 15 kids aged 2-4 or 2 adults. That's kind of lonely.

The parents of the birthday boy put out an awesome spread for the party, which is really impressive because I'm not sure I would put in as much effort for my own kids, at least not until they are old enough to remember it and appreciate me for it.

For the record, what Koreans like to do for their babies' birthdays is dress them up in ridiculously fancy and equally uncomfortable traditional Korean hanbok clothing, and, as far as I can tell, make them pose for pictures in front of a table full of special birthday food.  The birthday baby almost always look unhappy.

Case in point: my little sister's Dol ceremony, circa 1989. "Where's the bouncy castle, mom?"

This birthday party had everything though. Finger snacks for adults (or "adults" who forget to make lunch for themselves), beautiful Elmo birthday cakes, Cookie Monster cupcakes, loot bags, and don't forget that bouncy castle.

I always find the gift opening process to be a particularly cruel tradition, especially when the children are very young. When you are at a certain age, you don't really understand what a "birthday" is, so it's hard to understand why this one guy is getting all the presents and you aren't allowed to take any.  It's not fair, really, if you think about it, and a couple of toddlers very clearly expressed their displeasure at such injustice. Until they remembered the bouncy castle.

As my birthday gift, I gave books, which my husband keeps telling me is a terrible present for boys.  I don't care.  Books are great. Plus it's a step up from what Koreans give their babies as presents. Rice cakes? Come on! Everyone knows that deep down inside, that baby wants a bouncy castle.

Please come back

the northernmost pool party in the world

On Saturday night, we threw the northernmost pool party in the world. Probably.  Unless someone in Taloyoak happened to rent the pool for a private party that night, or unless the swimming pool in Igloolik has finally been repaired (it currently serves as an Arctic circus training ground.)

fruity drinks

summer jams for an Arctic summer pool party

Cambridge Bay's swimming pool is only about waist deep for a grownup, but it can be pretty fun anyway to splash around, play a little ultimate frisbee, and goof around with the underwater camera.

i love Arctic summers

a survey of Canadian cities in seven days: Ottawa

Continuing my stories of each Canadian city I visited during my seven day sprint across the country:

When I arrived at the MacDonald-Cartier International Airport in Ottawa, I thought about how an airport never looks so welcoming and lovely as when you've come home for the first time in a long time.

The infamous rings of Jack Purcell Park...read the story here

my first Suzy Q doughnut

home-cooked meals by mama

But after a while, sometimes you find that home has changed and doesn't feel like home and soon you are writing about it like a tourist, in a blur of memories.

I got lost on my way to a party because I couldn't remember where things were. I had to consciously remind myself to look both ways before I crossed the road.

Crissi Cochrane performs at Fringe Fest

HIGHS performing at Fringe Fest

I went to a dance party at a jail bar that was advertised as a rehab pizza party. Because pizza was being served, which is a great idea. It is a bar that used to be a jail. The dance floor is the old gallows where people were once hung. Now people dance and eat pizza in the courtyard under the protective cover of a giant tree. Between the branches I can see the Big Dipper constellation. I am experiencing night time for the first time in months.

There is a performance by a band called Stakr - proncounced Stalker but made less (or more?) creepy by removing some of the letters. It consists of a big guy rapping at the top of his lungs while his partner works the beats behind him on a laptop.  The crowd loves this and keeps on dancing.  I try busting out my zumba moves on the dance floor.

The pizza arrives, and suddenly there is a giant mob descending on the cardboard boxes. 

I sit on the washing machines while I wait in line for the washroom. I listen to the other girls in line talk about where they can go for the cheapest hair cut.  They complain about having to spend $30 on a hair cut when they have short hair like a boys.  They say, maybe they should just give up and go to a barber.  I think about how it would be nice to have a hairdresser in Cambridge Bay.

After these parties, we often stand in the parking lot, some of our friends having drunk just enough to be filled with indecision. That lovely indecision stemming from having too many options, paralyzed with freedom. What do you want to do? Where should we go?

I found out that Ottawa has a new self-serve frozen yogurt bar.

Everthing is decked out in pink.  You have your selection of fro-yo and then you go to these seemingly endless buffet table of toppings. You pay for your gluttony by weight, and then you sit in a pink seat and watch the Simpsons on the big flat screen TV.  So basically it's heaven for adults who grew up in the 90s but still refer to themselves as kids (me).

I was overambitious

Speaking of bars, Ottawa also has a new brow bar. This is a different kind of bar, where you sit in a chair, and a lady who doesn't speak English pulls out your eyebrow hairs with a spool of thread, and then you pay her ten dollars for the painful process. I think this is a genius concept. Sometimes you have to leave home to properly fall in love with your hometown.

leaving Ottawa in an empty airport...time to shoot a Celine Dion music video?

Arctic skating party

We had 70s style roller disco party this weekend. I had my outfit all ready.

Except it was being held in an unheated hockey rink in the Arctic, using ice skates rather than roller skates, so my whole outfit was going to be covered by a snowsuit.  It was a shame.

But I still decided not to wear pants. Because I'm hardcore like that. It was a little cold, but sometimes you have to suffer for art. Besides, once you start moving around on the ice for a few hours, you stop noticing the cold.

A lot of people showed up to the party, which was really great.  I'd spent the weekend putting together a solid 70s disco playlist that was now being broadcast over the arena loudspeakers, so it gave the whole place a good roller disco vibe.  All that was missing was a disco ball. And maybe dimmer mood lights.

It's been a long time since I last went skating. As an Ottawa resident, I'm used to skating on the Rideau Canal, which means I'm very good at skating straight for a long time...and not much else. I can't really turn, and I can't really stop. However, I'm also used to skating on treacherously rough ice while dodging small children.  So the clean smooth mostly child-free rink was an improvement.

For those of us who grew up in tropical countries and are only now learning to skate, there were these awesome "training rails" that you could push along while skating to help you with your balance. I think they were for children, but they were great.

It was a lovely evening, and a great chance to hang out with friends while getting some exercise.  It was also good to have a chance to go skating. I thought I'd have more opportunities to go skating once I moved to the Arctic, and I really wanted to go skating out on the frozen ocean.  But it's just too cold right now, at -60.  Renting out the rink for a private event was a good way to have some good old fashion skating fun, while pretending to be skating circles at a roller disco during the 1970s.

Tired feet

Tired feet, so tired a little help is needed to pull the skates off

Christmas festivities in the Arctic

I find the days leading up to Christmas to actually be a stressful time of year. Besides the feeling that you need to pinch pennies to afford presents, there's also the weather. There's less sunlight (or none at all, if you live here), and often bad weather will cancel our plans and flights.  In addition, there's the pressure you feel to finish up all your work before the holidays begin.

I think that the days leading up to Christmas is a season where we try to keep each other cheered up, remind each other that we're all in the same boat, and that we've got each other's back.  We may not feel naturally joyful for Christmas, but it's about finding joy wherever we can.

Some photos from the children's Christmas concert presented by the elementary school students:

These square-dancing kindergarteners were so cute, it brought actual tears to my eyes.

Everyone is dressed so sharply!

Drum dancing and singing in Innuinaqtun

 

Hey there, dancing Santa!

Our friends also had an Ugly Sweater Party. How's our Christmas sweaters?

I'm wearing two sweaters here!

Then of course there's gingerbread house decorating with the kids. So much candy.  So, so, so much candy.

I was there to "help out" - and by helping out, I mean decorate my own gingerbread house.  Here's what mine looked like. As you can see, I spent a lot more time on the landscaping than the actual house itself.

And then, suddenly, SANTA ARRIVED!

We've seen Santa around town before.  We live awfully close to the North Pole, you know? He claims his name is "Gary" but I know the truth behind that white beard and that jolly smile.

Santa, me, and another Christmas sweater

Happy Holidays, everyone!