Walking the Tundra
Trip Start
Aug 20, 2008
1
12
15
Trip End
Sep 15, 2008
Qaqortoq,
Greenland
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
The majority of Greenland settlements are on the west coast, which while not an easy place to live is marked by fjords with glacier free coves, far more hospitable than the east coast with its snow and glaciers even in August. Qaquartog was, on this beautiful sunny day, an absolutely charming town spread out on several hills centered around a small harbor. The houses were gaily painted in a rainbow of colors and small boats bobbed on the blue water as we arrived at the main dock area on the ship's tender boats.
Our arrival proved to be a cause for celebration for the town as well as for us. They had posted the notice of our
coming on bulletin boards by the main buildings and the schools were let out for the day. Lectures on Greenland
were scheduled for us in their community hall, choir concerts were being given in the church, kayaking demonstrations were going on in the harbor and there was a program of traditional drumming. They were as excited to see us as we were to see them! Had we not been able to land, the disappointment would have been shared.
The ship, which normally schedules tours in each port, had, for Qaquatog, planned nothing. We saw why now.
No roads means no busses! The only mentioned tourist attraction was the oldest (and only?) fountain in Greenland and was hardly something one would normally even walk around the corner to see. But we didn't care. We set off on a walking tour of Qaquartog highlights. We had been given a rudimentary map, which we attempted to follow, but having no real destination it actually didn't matter what street we took. We passed "The Market", a small covered area where about 3-4 different kinds of whole fish were laid out neatly on rough wooden tables. English here is a distant third language after the native Inuit language and Danish, so very little is
spoken. We could only exchange smiles, not words, with the fish mongers so never learned what kinds of fish we were looking at.
We passed through a residential area of small houses with tiny yards and sweeping sea views. We passed bundled up toddlers on bright-colored plastic riding toys playing in the fenced-in play yard of a nursery school. Even in a town of less than 3000 people there are different neighborhoods and when we went up over a rise we came upon an area that looked like American section 8 housing or an equivalency. Denmark heavily subsidizes the people in Greenland ($10,000 per person per year) and in an attempt to improve their living conditions has spent a lot on multi family housing blocks with mixed results. While they have gathered the Inuits into the (relatively) larger towns so that they might have education and health care (as well as heated homes), the people have not been incorporated into the economy as they hoped. Knowing only a traditional lifestyle of hunting and fishing, they are at loose ends in these housing developments with resulting high unemployment and alcoholism. The rundown housing in this area clearly reflected this demoralized life.
As we walked along, heading towards the outskirts of town, we encountered an old Inuit man and his wife. He was carrying two plastic grocery bags that, when we got closer, we could see were full of empty beer bottles. Joe said "hello" and he responded with a warm smile and was pleased to have Joe take his picture. He then insisted that pictures be taken taken with both him and his wife and then all of us together. This was accomplished with much smiling, nodding, and non-verbal cross-cultural communication followed by goodbyes as we continued in opposite directions.
Further along we passed what we suspected from the outside was a grocery store/bodega. Bill, Marilyn, and Nancy went onto the covered porch and through the door to check it out, while Joe, who had encountered a group of teens enjoying their day off from school, took pictures of this willing group of photo subjects. Inside the store, which was pretty rudimentary being in the low income area of town, there were canned goods, stacks of "cup-of-soups", and some familiar brands such as Kellogg's cereals and Ajax.
When we came out again, Joe was busy showing the kids their photos on the screen of the camera. I suggested that we get an address for them and send them prints. The language barrier! We pantomimed a bit and spoke slow English. Finally, one of the girls, who, though shy of speaking, understood a little English, caught onto what we were saying. She matched our scrap of paper with her pen to give us her name and address. Now the group became even more eager to pose learning that the pictures would be on their way back to Greenland!
A block further on we reached the edge of town. The road we were on ended and a barren looking mountain loomed ahead. At the foot of the mountain was a flat area in which a soccer field had been laid out. Unlike the first class facilities in Torshavn in the Faroe Islands, this field was pathetic, a patch of dusty ground with some beat up bleachers. Across the street from the field was a very large, red, barnlike building. It conjured up the image of the badminton hall in the Faroe Islands. Curious as to what it was we walked up the steps and went in. Inside it housed a full-sized indoor soccer field! Now we understood the pathetic soccer field. If you have snow ten months out of the year, why spend money on an outdoor field?
On the walls of the vestibule of the building were photos of winning teams and there was a large case of trophies on display in a glass case. On this lovely day, the building was deserted. We looked through a window into a small snack bar. On the wall there was a dispenser with three colors of syrup with which to make snowcones!
Outside again, we followed a path that skirted the side of the mountain but then gradually climbed up and out of town. The land was barren, the proverbial tundra, with surface rocks partially covered by small-leaved, ground-hugging plants in reds, greens, and yellows. Water tumbled down the hillside in small rivulets, some ending in little
ponds where the ground flattened and rocks and permafrost prohibited drainage. The path seemed to come and go and we found ourselves stepping guiltily on the tundra plants. Would each footstep kill what was underfoot and 100 years pass before it regenerated? Despite its barren look, up close it was a rich, spongy carpet of vegetation.
After we reached the top of the first ridge and discovered that there was yet a taller ridge looming behind it, Marilyn and Bill opted to return to town. With no trees, it was easy to find one's way back to town, path or no path. Joe and Nancy, optomistic that the top was not far up, kept going. Alas, the next ridge was similarly only an illusionary peak. And so it went for another hour until we finally came out on an outlook from where we could see the sea below with other islands in the distance. After enjoying the view and resting a bit, we started down. On the way up we had encountered no one. On the way down, however, the sun having warmed things up, we passed two Inuit women laboring slowly up the mountain picking blueberries from the many small, ground hugging blueberry plants mixed in with the other tundra plants.
Back in town, we snacked on the trail mix and fruit we had with us. Joe took some photos of the harbor with the colorful boats and a small iceberg floating around among the boats. We stopped at the tourist office at the harbor edge to inquire about the choir concert. It turned out the church where it was to take place was up a very steep hill, the path up being stone steps. By now our legs were worn out and we did not really want to to any more climbing but this was our only visit, probably for a lifetime so we made it up one step at a time.
The church was new, designed by a Danish architect to resemble an iceberg. It was painted white on both the outside and the inside with a wall of windows that, from inside, had a panoramic view of the town and the harbor. Along the length of the sanctuary opposite the windows there was a mural of Jesus surrounded by children of all ages - smiling Inuit faces clad in Inuit footwear.
The "choir" turned out to be a group of five Inuits in their 60's who had journeyed from a nearby village by boat that morning to perform. They were dressed in Inuit special occasion/traditional dress. A tall Danish woman with impeccable English introduced the singers and explained their native dress, elaborate layers of sealskin, silk, beadwork, embroidery, and knitting. They then sang acappela songs that were a cross between church music and traditional folk music. As the Danish hostess introduced the final number she said that we might recognize the song although the words would be in Inuit. A familiar hymn perhaps, we thought. Well, what a surprise to hear "My Darling Clementine" being sung in glorious harmony in Inuit! The program closed with smiles, applause, and thanks from our hostess for us coming to see them despite the bad seas. What a warm and generous welcome!
Oh yes, and what about global warming? That which had prompted the trip! It never came up all day. Turns out that unlike the rest of the world, the good folks of Greenland are tickled pink with global warming. They now can grow something other than potatoes. They are growing carrots and cabbages. The meager sheep farming that tries to cling to the land is being expanded. The ice locked days are decreasing. They even grew a few (admittedly just a few) strawberries this past year. Life is good. Bring on global warming.
