The Delights of the North

This is the second of my weekly contribution to the Won't You Be My Neighbour series, started by Amy of The Never True Tales. Today my guest blogger is Lindsay Below, a once-local writer friend of mine who moved to the great white north last year.

 For those who don’t know me, my name is Lindsay. I’m an author and one of the privileged few who can claim to be in Denise’s critique group. We used to meet in person to discuss our recent works-in-progress. Unfortunately, that ceased when I relocated from Southern Ontario to Iqaluit, Nunavut -- the meeting in person, that is. Thankfully, our critique group lives on even though I’m only there by proxy.

Introductions aside -- sit back, relax, and let me regale you with some of the things I’ve noticed since I moved to the picturesque North:

• It’s only “picturesque” in the winter. By the time the snow melts away in May, I’m left with a city of brown. Formerly snow-capped brown mountains, brown dirt with the occasional scrawny brown weed, and heck, let’s throw in the muddy brown water of Frobisher Bay (I haven’t gotten close enough to say that for sure, but I can assume). Plus, by the time the snow is gone, I can see this brown landscape in glaring detail due to the 24-hour sunlight.
• Every now and again, someone will run into a power grid with his skidoo or four-wheeler and knock out the power to the city. In the summer, that’s just fine and dandy (see: 24-hour sunlight). But in the winter, I have the opposite problem (24-hour darkness). I guess that’s why there are so many births in the fall.
• My house is built for the hard winters, with thick insulation. This means that in the summer, I might just suffer heat stroke from staying inside.
• I live on a street with no name, as does 99% of the rest of the city. There are many nameless streets. If I were to direct someone to my house, I would tell them, “The red one on the hill.” Kidding. I also give the building number. But not having a street name does cause problems when directing someone to mail something to me. They go bonkers when I just give them the building number and P.O. Box.
• Note to all forms that demand no P. O. boxes in the “address” section: There are no mail boxes in Iqaluit. Only post office boxes.
• On an optimistic note, this town does have one named street. The Road to Nowhere (yes, it has a street sign reading that). Want to guess where it leads? You got it, nowhere.
• Concrete tends to crack down the middle up here, ergo my house is built on stilts instead of a foundation. This means that when it gets windy, the house sways.
• In order to keep the water from freezing, the pipes are heated to near boiling point in the winter. That means that the tap water is always warm! I could always buy bottled water at the store for ridiculous prices.
• Just because it needs to be said, my first grocery bill (for two people) was to the tune of $700. I didn’t buy caviar, just regular groceries.
• If you need to hone your skills in bargaining, fly up here. You can do so and indulge your love for genuine Inuk-crafted figurines, artwork, and clothing at your convenience. Going to the grocery store? Waiting for your meal to be served at the restaurant? These items are brought to you by their artisans for special perusal.
• Of course, if you’d like to fly up to Iqaluit, it’ll cost you round about $1300 for a return trip from Iqaluit-Ottawa. I highly recommend that one rather than the Iqaluit-Montreal flight, which often overnights unexpectedly in Kugaaruk.
• A caribou herd used to migrate through town. Yes, USED to. Eventually, they realized that if they come within eyesight of the town, they WILL be shot.
• On a regular day, the town shuts down between noon and one o’clock for lunch. That means you can pretty well time the traffic jam on the four corners.
• Rather than snow days, there are “freezing days” in Iqaluit. If it gets too cold, the town shuts down.

Luckily, I still love my boyfriend despite all this (he’s the reason I moved up here to begin with). If you’d like to find me on the web, look in these places:

Twitter - (I promise not to tweet your ear off about the delights of Iqaluit… mostly)

Facebook

My website

My blog

Thanks for having me, Denise!

You're so welcome, Linds!