A story to tell

Springtime has hit Inuvik as well. Since coming back from my Easter break, the snow has begun to melt, and I no longer don my winter boots, down parka, and long johns when I venture out of doors. The first spring barbecue can’t be far off now, and, by next week, Inuvik will have over seventeen hours of daylight every day. Runs to the convenience stores for late-night slushies will start soon!

I had a fantastic Easter. My friend in Yellowknife and I drove to Fort Resolution to visit another friend. We feasted like we had never feasted before. (Come to think of it, we had a barbecue there – so that was my first springtime barbecue of the year!) We had an Easter egg hunt in the living room. Due to my non-competitiveness, I lost, but still came away with tons of goodies. The seven-hour drive from Yellowknife to Fort Resolution was largely monotonous, save for the stretch of ice-road by Fort Providence. That stretch was terrifying. Because of the mild weather, the ice had begun to give way to slush, and there were huge puddles everywhere. We were quite apprehensive about traveling on that road, but all was well. It was on the way back that we had our mishap: We cautiously made our way behind a semi across the ice, and plowed through what seemed like a foot of water at some spots. At the place where ice met solid land, we jolted along with a brief but violent lurch. Then came the sigh of relief. The worst was over. Not so…. About an hour away from arriving back into Yellowknife, on a nice paved stretch of the highway, a rock the size of a dollar coin smashed through the front windshield. I had been dozing in the passenger seat when I heard the thud. I opened my eyes and immediately saw the cracked glass. It was a minute later that we noticed the shards of glass in our laps and all over the dashboard that made us realize that the rock had come through. Had we been lower down on the road, in a small car instead of an SUV, the rock would have hit us smack in the face. We are so lucky that all we have is a broken windshield, a bit of fright, and a good story to tell.

Below is a picture of what we had thought would be the most perilous stretch of the road between Yellowknife and Fort Resolution: the ice road. This was taken on the way to Fort Resolution. If I had taken a picture on the way back, you would see the huge puddles. The road closed for the season a couple of days after our return.

Yellowknife in the springtime

I’m not sure whether Yellowknife is an escape from Inuvik, or whether it actually magnifies the ambivalent tug of emotions that I feel when living in Inuvik. I’ve come to Yellowknife this year to spend my spring break, and I’m struck by how much it has changed from my first few visits here in the past three years. My first time in this northern city was in October of 2003, shortly after moving up north. I had been sent down by my employer for a two-day conference, and loved the feeling of the “big city” once again. I had missed the restaurants of Vancouver, and had been yearning for a good Asian meal. Yellowknife was great for a brief interlude of immersion back into the bustle of a city.

The most memorable visit to date was the summer of 2005, when I spent two weeks here and basked in the golden glow and heat of the northern sun. I took in Folk on the Rocks the day I arrived (fresh off the plane from Puerto Vallarta no less!). I was red and peeling by the end of the day, but was oh-so-blissful. Those were two weeks of absolute paradise, when I did nothing but eat great food, hang out with a dear friend, and take daily shopping trips to the shops around town.

This time around, the city feels different. Most likely, I’m the one to have changed. Yes, the restaurants are still here, and the bustle still abounds, but there is a sadness that I never really felt before. Two days ago, I saw two of my former students. One had on enormous sunglasses, but even so, the scratches around her eyes were still visible. I had hoped for her to be doing well, to be thriving in this city; however, it seemed as though the city had swallowed her up, and spit her out. She looked so lost. I just wanted to hold her, to whisk her away, to watch Disney movies with her, to feed her ice-cream and cookies, to laugh together. Instead, I did a double-take, asked her how she was (to which she replied, “Not good.”), and saw her on her way to meet up with her grandfather. The other student I saw was pushing around a stroller. Our eyes met, and she was gone before I could even say hello. Yellowknife seems to do something mysterious and incomprehensible to people who’ve been here long enough. Even I seem oddly disquieted, not quite myself anymore. I watch where I step, and make sure that I don’t look at anyone for too long, although I admit that there is no real danger. Perhaps I’m merely afraid of the tales behind the eyes of the people I pass. Perhaps I don’t want to see another of my students entangled into the strong, destructive pulls the city seems to have.

In other news, my beloved computer is crapping out. The display is on its last leg, and is slowly but surely fading into a blank whiteness. I went and talked to someone at the computer repair shop here in town, and she told me that it would be hardly worth replacing the LCD display, since it would be a minimum of $700. Although my computer is less than a year old, it is no longer under warranty. Maybe my computer is merely reflecting my own inner “blankness” from being in Yellowknife, and will be all better when we leave this place. Not likely, but one could always hope, right? I’ve been telling myself, “It’s just a computer. It’s just a computer….” I have had such bad luck with computers that I should either a) be banned from ever purchasing another, or b) buy the extended warranty the next time.

I’ll be heading to Fort Resolution tomorrow with a friend. It’ll be a good Easter, with lots of good food, great conversation, and a nice road trip as well. Photos of the trip will follow, I promise.

Happy Easter to everyone, or, if you don’t celebrate Easter, have a happy spring! My friend has fresh-cut daffodils in her house now, so spring has indeed reached us, even in the great white north!

Because I can laugh

Here I am, in Yellowknife, enjoying my well-deserved (in my opinion anyway) spring break.  I know I've disappeared for a quite a while, but will try to make up for it through some frenzied writing in the next couple of days.  There's much to write about -- my sweetie's recent visit, new realizations, an impending roadtrip....  I've hooked into someone's unsecured wireless network, and it has proven to be weak and unreliable.  I'll try my best to post my entries.  For now, here's a humble offering about my current state of mind:

Because I can laugh,
The weight of the world seems less daunting.
I can imagine the blue skies behind the overcast fish-belly clouds.
I can love solitude as much as I love company.

Because I can laugh,
I can appreciate a fairy-airy dust particle in the sunlight.
I can be lonely and be all right at the same time.
I know that “home” is a state of mind.

Because I can laugh,
I can perhaps make one moment of your day less worrisome.
You may catch a bit of my spirit,
And finally see the me behind the questioning looks.

Because I can laugh….
I have the world,
And all its contradictions.
I have me,
And have built a home,
Have turned spirit into voice,
Into word,
Into story.