a day in the life

(a snapshot of what my days in Georgetown have been like, lately)

Today is the day I decided I'm going to try wearing my hair down today. It's been really hot lately so I've been piling my hair on top of my head in a high ponytail or bun so that my hair wouldn't stick to the back of my sweaty neck, but on this particular day I had a lot of meetings planned, so I reasoned that I would be able to stay cool inside. Time to let my hair down.

I would quickly learn to regret this decision.

I called for cab. The cab did not have air conditioning. On the way to work, I saw a cow hanging out by the road and I wondered who the cow belonged to and why it was there. It wasn't usually there.

At my first stop, I sank down at my desk with a great sigh of relief because the air conditioner was on full blast. It was so cool, I could have a nice warm cup of Jamaican sorrel tea. I love tea, but usually the weather is too hot to enjoy it.

A colleague came into the office and announced that she had found bees.

Bees?

Well, I guess I could be okay with bees, I thought, as long as they're not Africanized bees. I had read some articles in the newspaper lately about horrible attacks in Guyana by swarms of Africanized bees, some leading to horrible deaths, and quite frankly, that was a little scary to think about.

They're African bees, the colleague announced as she returned back into the room.

A company would be called to smoke them out. Meanwhile, I decided to get myself out of there fast.

I headed over to my next scheduled event, a Jubilee celebration held by a few government ministries and the Women and Gender Equality Commission to honour the women in history who had made great contributions to Guyana. It was held at the majestic Arthur Chung Conference Centre which, surprisingly despite the lavish decor of its facade, was not air conditioned because it had an open air concept. This is a concept that Canada doesn't really have, except maybe the TTC station entrances that lead underground which are always a slushy mess in the winter. I tried to sweep my hair aside to look like less of a sweaty disaster, and wondered how all the other women in the room managed to look so cool and dignified. Inspired by the speeches, I got what I needed at the event and headed off to my next destination.

My next task was to navigate my way through the bustle of the magistrates' courts.  There was an argument happening at the front gate with some folks on the street and the court guards. I tried to hurry past, but a well-dressed woman stopped me outside.

"Do you think you could get me a job at your work?" she asked me.

I blinked in surprise. "Canada's pretty cold in the winter, you know," I blurted out, my mind still on the slushly TTC subway stations.

Her face fell in disappointment. She had meant the Canadian High Commission in Guyana, which was considerably warmer than Canada, and also a place that I didn't work for.

Surprisingly, the magistrates' courts were air-conditioned, and had a great air of solemnity and dignity.  Unfortunately, it was right in there that I had an asthma-triggered coughing fit, removing much of the solemnity and dignity in the room. I thought I would die of embarrassment.

I stopped for lunch at one of my favourite snack joints, a Rastafarian place called House of Flavours serving ital food. The food is cheap and fantastic, although I usually prefer to get it as a take away and eat it elsewhere. Inside the place, it was not air-conditioned, of course, and mosquitoes nibbled at my ankles while Rastafarians hung out, watching gory kung fu movies on the tiny TV above the fridge. I felt like I was intruding. But the meal was delicious. House of Flavours is the reason why I will not be getting scurvy, because I pretty much don't eat vegetables otherwise.

After my meal, I reluctantly headed back out into the blazing hot sun. I have almost grown accustomed to sweating in the business suits that I have to wear to match the business formal dress culture of Guyana, but really, this whole wearing my hair down thing was a mess. I walked in a couple of unproductive circles, trying to find the next office I was supposed to meet at.  Getting lost downtown seems to be one of my main activities here for a few reasons:

• I refuse to get a smart phone with a data plan because I'm perfectly comfortable with T9 flip phones. I've been living in Nunavut for the last couple of years, dammit, where smart phones are relatively new, and also I'm of the generation that grew up without cell phones at all. On the other hand, it means not having access to a map app...
• ...or access to any map at all, since nobody really feels comfortable pulling out a map in the middle of the street like a target sign to get robbed.
• Usually, I look at a map beforehand and memorize where I'm supposed to go. This doesn't always work out because there aren't always street signs.

 I saw a chicken literally cross the road. My life is a joke.

As I continued along my extra long extra hot wander through town, some men offered helpful directions while other men catcalled me.  Eventually I found the office, which was not air-conditioned. At the end of the day, I decided to head back to the first office, for some more air conditioning and tea.  A man in a truck sat waiting at the gate.

"I'm here to take care of the bees," he said.

I shuddered and decided that maybe I should call it a day.

special lady day

I decided that one day of my holiday would be devoted to having the perfect day: doing nothing but things that I enjoy and pampering myself. Ideally this would have happened on my birthday, but since my birthday falls on a holiday and everything is closed, I picked another random day instead.  I was going to have the perfect day. I was not going to change out of my pyjamas.

It started off with...a trip to the dentist. Okay, so maybe that was not quite how I would have planned it, but that was the only time slot that my dentist could fit me in, and, well, oral hygiene is important. Also, at least I could have a chai tea at one of the fanciest hotels in Ottawa, bizarrely located in the middle of an industrial park in the Silicon Valley of the North, Kanata. In my pyjamas.

I then moved on with the rest of my Special Lady day, working out at the gym. This may not sound like a special treat for some people, but it felt great for me to go for a run, seeing how the only treadmill in Cambridge Bay has been broken for a year and it's too cold to run outside.

Afterwards, I enjoyed a breakfast sandwich and a latte at Quitters Coffee in Stittsville, served to me by the owner Kathleen Edwards, a musician I very much admire. Recently she quit music to open up this lovely coffeeshop. It's a lovely venue, with the new Beck album playing on the speakers as she chatted up her clients and talked about her plans for the shop in the future.

And then I was off to the best part of my day: Le Nordik in the quaint village of Chelsea, Quebec. This is one of my favourite places to be. It's a spa that is partially located outdoors, so you can soak in a hot tub while enjoying the beautiful forest scenery of the Quebec countryside.

But first I had to get there. This was a bigger challenge than I expected, as in the years I have moved away from Ottawa, I have apparently forgotten how to drive to Quebec.  This happens, I suppose, after a few years of living in a community that only has a handful of roads. But eventually I found my way to the spa and allowed myself to be lost in the wonderful bliss that is Le Nordik.

Of course, by the time I got to the change room of the spa, I realized I had forgotten my bathing suit.  But dammit, I was going to make this work, and ended up wearing my sports bra instead.

I tried out the saltwater pool, which has enough salt content that people can just float in it, like a sensory deprivation tank. I floated in it, willing my mind to transition into a state of mindful relaxation, where you notice and accept without judgment the sensations that your body feels (like the urge to scratch your butt).   Sometimes, if you want to keep your mind from wandering, it helps to concentrate on a mantra (like My Sharona...M-m-m-m-My My My, Woo!)

After the salt water pool, I moved to the regular water circuits. The general routine is to do hot, cold, rest, hot cold rest.  For me, that was hot (eucalyptus steam room), cold (standing under icicle-lined waterfalls), wine. Hot (sitting in lotus position in the earth sauna), cold (running through the snow), massage.  My Swedish massage in the massage cabin was heavenly. The French woman worked my hips and back which made a bunch of emotions bubble up from deep down inside, causing me to compose a poem in my mind during the masage and then immediately forgetting it as I dozed off.  Basically, Le Nordik is a wonderful place with many places to doze off.

 

Brunch at the Explorer

(I realized that I had forgotten to publish this blog post from a little while back while I was in Yellowknife)
 
Brunch at the Trader's Grill at the Explorer Hotel is one of the fanciest brunches that exist in the North. I like brunch, and I like fancy, so we decided to check it out. 

The brunch buffet serves crabs, mussels, pork loin, pot roast, turkey. I decided to make my meal an art. Set a theme for each plate.  

The theme for my first plate is seafood and salad.

The theme for my second is Dinner For Breakfast. Turkey, stuffing, pork loins, mashed potatoes, roasted vegetables.

The theme for my third plate is Breakfast for Breakfast. Eggs Benedict, French toast, sausage, bacon. I am visibly slowing down at this point.

My final plate is Dessert for Breakfast. I have little memory at this point because I was so full. It's all a blur now. But it was delicious.

The whole time there is bizarre music being played while we eat. I'm talking dance music which feels disturbing at a brunch. Also, I am surprised at how disappointed I am that I can't order mimosas until 11. Otherwise though, this is a special kind of heaven, and definitely worth its price. You know what would make it worth its price even more? If I could find a way to linger here for hours until I get hungry again, so I can keep eating and eating and eating...

power outages in the north

 

My plants are sad because the sun does not rise anymore.

Life got a little busy this month so I haven't been posting on this blog much, but things are under control, and there really is never a shortage of stories to tell in Cambridge Bay.

Lately, after dealing with blizzards, the newest adventures have been power outages. Some of the generators at the power plants aren't working, so when the working ones break down, the whole community goes dark. And cold, because we're talking about Arctic winters with no working heaters.  It's been a problem lately, and hopefully a permanent solution is found soon, but in the meantime, it's an adventure.

A lot of times, the power goes out while I'm at work. On one hand, it's kind of fun to be sent home from work because of a power outage, but it's not fun at all if you have actual work to do - or deadlines to meet. One time, the power went out right when I was supposed to have an important phone meeting. With no access to my files on my computer, I ended up finding my contact's phone number in the phone book - after having to learn how to use a phone book, because who uses phone books these days - calling the person on my cell phone (because our office landlines don't work without electricity). While taking notes by scribbling them down on paper in the dark.

Another time, I was desperately trying to get some research done, and power was being rotated on a half hour on, half our off basis. Luckily I had my laptop, so for half an hour I would frantically search for cases online and print them out, and then for the next half hour I would read the cases in the dark.  I am told that lots of people used to do research without the Internet and computers a long time ago, but I have a hard time believing this is true.

Even when you are able to go home due to electricity-related office closures, there is the question of what you are supposed to do at home, in the dark. I mean, there's no cable and there's no internet.  You can't even post photos on Instagram or tweet about how bored you are (smart phones are a relatively new thing up here).

I suppose what's more of a concern than the lack of cable, internet, or landline phones (if your phone needs electricity to work),  is the fact that you don't have any water either because the water pump operates by electricity. Which basically means that you have all the inconveniences of running out of water, but also in the cold dark. So you can't kill time by doing the dishes or running the washing machine, in case you like to do that sort of thing.

Eventually I started compiling a list of things you can do when the power goes out:

• Eat sandwiches
• Do your nails 
• Lift weights (but you can't shower after)
• Floss
• Quarrel with your spouse
• Accidentally drip candle wax all over your hand

I discovered the latter activity while wielding a candle stick around the house to defend myself against my biggest worry: Arctic vampires. An remote community plunged in darkness with no sunrise expected until mid-January: this would be prime attacking season for vampires. Isn't there a movie about this? Anyway, as the Boy Scouts always say (probably in reference to vampire attacks): Be Prepared.

The power is out. In the middle of an Arctic winter with no daylight. This is me wielding a candlestick like a weapon to ward off all the Arctic vampires. This is prime season for attacking.

A photo posted by Gloria Guns (@gloriaguns) on Nov 11, 2014 at 4:49pm PST

Of course, what is probably the main concern is trying to keep warm when your heater won't work and it's -40 outside in the middle of an Arctic winter. You can only imagine the kind of damage it could do to your house if the pipes freeze too. In theory, the power company was trying to rotate power so that each house would have a half hour on and an hour off. But in reality, some of us were going hours without any power. Things got cold fast.

Meanwhile, the power company was providing updates about the progress of repairs on Facebook and Twitter, which was great for everyone who had, you know, electricity and stuff.

We decided that the best way to cope with it all was to head over to our friends' home and pretend that the candle light was a camp fire and tell ghost stories with a few drinks.  The dog discreetly ate our crumbs off the carpet, hoping the darkness would hide her stealthy deeds. The only person with a working smart phone and a battery read out the latest news from Facebook. So-and-so's wallet is still missing, a woman is looking for a reliable cook, and the convenience store is still open (cash only).  It's good to have company when you're going through these adventures. We're sure everything will return to normal tomorrow. The power will come back. And as little Orphan Annie sang, the sun will come up...maybe next year sometime in January.

I am going to miss these sunrises

fancy city bitch

There is a mother from Yellowknife sitting in the airplane seats in front of us, explaining to her toddler son where the airplane is flying.

“We’re going to Ottawa! There’s a Costco there and we are going to go shopping there.”

“What’s a Costco?” asked the small child.

“It’s a magical store where they have lots of things.”

“What kind of things?”

The mother explained. “Some of the things we have here, but it’s bigger! Like a candy bar.  Candy bars are this big in Yellowknife, but at the Costco in Ottawa, it’s THIS big. Everything is bigger at Costco!”

“Even us?”

“No, we stay the same. But the things are bigger!”

“How about my shoes?”

“Well, your shoes also stay the same size. But there will be a lot of them!”

I always write more when I travel away from home. I’m finding now that I am writing more when I leave Cambridge Bay, which I guess means I’m starting to really think of Nunavut as home and Ottawa as this place I visit.

Still, I have my routine whenever I return to Ottawa. Clean myself up so I look like a proper lady, not this bear that’s emerged from the Arctic wilderness. Wear real pants. Trim the cuticles, hack off the hair (including body hair).

The hair dresser and my manicurist are all talking about the new shopping outlet that just opened up in Kanata. The Tanger Outlet Centre was opened up to divert some of the shoppers that make the trek down to New York every year for some serious shopping.  As I am getting my hair done, my family is trying to make their way to the shopping outlets, on its opening day, navigating through packed crowds, fighting for a parking spot, waiting in line to get the coupon book, to get into the stores, to pay for their purchases, to get the free tote.  It’s too much people for me, more people than we ever see up north.  For me, part of the reason why I’m down here is to do a performance at a zine launch, to sing a song I wrote about how they paved over my childhood stomping grounds and turned it into a shopping centre.

Back at the spa, my pedicurist is traumatized by my hairy legs. It’s a forest down there.  I told you, I have turned into a bear. We hold on to every bit of warmth that we can up there in the north, including body hair.

“You want me to wax upper rip?” she asks me through her thick Asian accent.

“No…no….I think I’m okay,” I murmur vaguely, startled to hear about my mustache.

“But is so hairy! It take only one minute.”

“I’ll…think about it….”

By the time the hair dresser, my Vietnamese nail spa ladies, and my makeup artist is through with me, I’m looking like a fancy city bitch.  I’m feeling like a fancy city bitch. Time to go live up Ottawa.

We are staying at the Fairmount Chateau Laurier to attend a wedding that is being held there.  The hotel has an old but classic feel to it. It’s kind of fun to pretend we’re rich. The hotel staff greets us by name, because they’ve memorized it.  We ask them to send out our stuff for dry-cleaning. We ask them to bring up safety pins for no reason.  It’s comfortable, and tempting to stay nestled in our hotel room, eating Asian food takeout and watching Little Nicky for the second time on TV rather than go downstairs to the reception. But we do eventually make it down and have a great time.

The morning after, we decide to try out brunch at the Chateau Laurier. It’s kind of awkward, stumbling into this luxurious place wearing sweat pants and a wrinkled t-shirt, smelling like a hangover. The waiter offers you a wine list.  “For breakfast?” you ask in surprise before you can think. You consider it briefly, and then your liver punches you from the inside, having suffered enough abuse from the night before. 

Anthony Bourdain hates brunches, but I love the freedom to grab whatever you want and pile them in a disordered chaos on your plate, doing things all wrong. The cooks behind the serving dishes are friendly and helpfully tell me the names of all the French dishes available – for breakfast – names that I immediately forget.  Roast beef for breakfast. Real orange juice, something we haven’t had since we pretty much went up to Nunavut.

The next day, I have the opportunity to have lunch at the Parliamentary dining room on Parliament Hill. It’s a very exclusive dining room, where only Members of Parliament, Senators, Supreme Court and federal judges, and a select few other federal figures and their guests could dine.  The dining room on the upper floor, past the mysterious Spouses Lounge, in a beautiful large room with domed ceilings, brightly lit with natural looking light, with smaller private sections leading off to the sides, each section named after a different province or territory.

For a starter, I eat a kale salad with warmed breaded goat cheese. I think about how hard it is to bring kale up north, and how I’ve been trying to grow a little bit of kale in my arctic indoor garden for weeks.  As my main course, I have something that the kitchen refers to as lamb lollipops served with fried gnocci, and fresh fruit with sorbet for dessert. The sorbet is a little too frozen, and I dig my spoon into it deeper – and promptly send it flying across the room and on to the carpet on the floor.  Luckily the carpet is the same colour as the sorbet, so I hope that nobody notices it until I am gone.

Clearly I only carry the illusion of a fancy city bitch, and not very well.

Now that all this fancy city bitching has gone to my head, I spend the afternoon at Le Nordik Spa in Chelsea, Quebec.  I know that many cities have their own version of a luxruy spa with a complex water circuit of hot tubs, saunas, and steam rooms. But Le Nordik is something particularly unique: many of the pools are located outside, nestled in the beautiful woods of the Parc Gatineau.  This means that you can soak in a hot tub while watching the changing fall leaves – and we all know Parc Gatineau is one of the best places in this region for this. Or you can lounge in an infinity pool that overlooks a breathtaking view of the forest valley.  And when you somehow get tired of that, you can slip inside one of the huts to sit in quiet contemplation in a eucalyptus-scented steam room, or a cosy hammock carefully hung by a wood-fire stove.

There is really nothing like it. I wonder if we can install something like this in the office. By the time I’m finished, I’m so blissed out I almost don’t care about the hour stuck in rush hour traffic in the rush to go home and eat dinner.

And then the next day, I get a relaxing massage at a lovely spa located inside an old converted stone church.

I love living in Nunavut. I love our proximity to the wilderness, the simplicity of my life, and the beautiful views.  But I certainly don’t mind a little luxury when we go out.

Nunavut's wilderness

I woke up on Sunday morning to find that it was snowing. Also, the car wouldn't start. So long, summer.

Once I jump started the truck, I decided that instead of just letting it run for a while, I should go out for a drive by myself out on the land.  I drove out towards Long Point, stopping at various points along the way to take in the scenery and take photos like a tourist.

I've been thinking a lot about the nature of solitude lately.   For whatever reason, I have been enjoying my own company and craving time alone.  I have been thinking about taking my next vacation to some quiet place by myself. My husband and I have talked about moving to a farm one day.  It's a bit odd. On one hand, I enjoy and crave a lot of big city luxuries: experimental music, fashion by independent designers, diverse selections of restaurants, coffee shops and malls. On the other hand, I have tendency to hang out in places where there aren't a lot of people, whether it's Namibia, Nunavut, or even Ottawa's Greenbelt.

It's more than enjoying the wilderness; I genuinely enjoy being alone and having a space all to myself. Maybe it has to do with the fact that until I was eight years old, I grew up in Highland, New York, a small hamlet of some 5000 people. My parents bought this house that was kind of in the middle of nowhere. It had been a model home for a new neighbourhood, but the developer had gone broke and stopped building houses. So we had no neighbours, just sprawling fields and hills all around me. I spent hours playing with myself, inventing imaginary friends and fantastic stories, and suited me fine.

Anyway, it surprised me how well we love Cambridge Bay, and how quickly we've fallen in love with the surrounding land. I love the fact that the ocean is just a few steps away, and if we want to go hiking in the wilderness or kayaking in the water, it's only a matter of walking to the end of our street.  And whenever you want to get away from everything and everyone - not that there are that many folks here in Cambridge Bay! - it's so easy, here in Nunavut, to be alone.  Especially on this island, with a population density that allows a hundred square kilometres per person.

a day in the Arctic summer life...

A look at my average day.

8:00 - The alarm clock goes off, and I wake up from vivid dreams. Usually dreams where I am about to eat food. I have bought the food. I am holding the food. I am about to put the food in my mouth. I wake up. I realize that I probably will not be able to eat this particular food that day, or anytime soon.

8:35 - Curse at myself for the pile of dishes I have left for myself in the sink.

8:50 - Nag at husband that we really should leave for work now.

8:57 - Leave for work.

8:58 - Get to work.

9:00 - Check work email and phone messages; often messages from people in Eastern Time zone wondering why I'm not answering.

9:05 - I CAN'T TELL YOU WHAT I DO. (I may or may not be a Cold War spy)

12:00 - Hear the siren go off. Wonder for a moment if the Russians are coming.  Realize it's Cambridge Bay's lunch bell.

12:01 - Get home. Think about how I should really take a nap. Make lunch. Eat lunch. Play the guitar and/or keyboards instead of napping.

12:55 - Realize that I really should have taken a nap.

12:57 - Leave for work.

12:58 - Get to work.

13:00 - Check messages, mostly messages from people in Eastern Time zone wondering why I'm not answering.

13:05 - Drink coffee. Tell myself that tomorrow, I will nap at lunch.

13:10 - I CAN'T TELL YOU WHAT I DO. (I may or may not be a Cold War spy)

16:00 - Leave messages for people in Eastern Time zone wondering why they aren't answering.

17:00 - Wonder why the office is so quiet. Realize that everyone has left. Leave work.

17:01 - Get home.

17:15 - Go for a run. Get chased by mosquitoes. This is good, I tell myself, it helps me run faster.

Nunavut summertime flora

17:45 - Return home. Feel a little less hungry because I've swallowed so many bugs.

18:00 - Eat dinner. Delicious dinner made by my awesome husband.

18:55 - Think about doing the dishes. Go kayaking instead.

19:30 - Watch Cambridge Bay from a distance while drifting on the ocean. Think about how I could never leave this place.

20:00 - Discover a new beach. Find a name for it.

21:30 - Get home. Think about doing the dishes. Go fishing instead.

22:00 - Watch my fishing line disappear into the water. Watch the mosquitoes dive bomb my mosquito net. Think about how I could never leave this place.

23:00 - Come back home, having not caught any fish but not caring.

23:20 - Plan to sleep, but end up working on some writing instead; either in form of blogging, song-writing, or an article.

24:00 - Fall asleep.  Dream of food.

sitting on the dock, watching the bay