the time is now, we're getting old...
It's almost time to jet. I've got 99.9% of my things boxed up and ready to go. I've stopped buying food. I've decided on the sets of dvds to keep in my luggage for Easter Weekend Marathon. My shoes, my curtains and my lovely photos are stashed away in sealed cardboard boxes, waiting for the time to be unpacked in a new space.

It's exciting. Anti-climatic for sure (I always find it is that way). But maybe in my mind, I've been gone from here for a long time. It's just time for my body to catch up with my head.
Always seems that is the case.

I've been looking at airfare for Cuba, thinking of tacking a week on to my Ireland trip so I can roll and smoke cigars with Leesa and Caleb. Not sure that will happen, but it's kind of fun to see what something like that would cost.

Tomorrow is my last full day in Nunavut. I will spend part of Wednesday climbing in and out of airplanes but I won't be spending a whole day in Nunavut. On to a new province/territory. Time to shake off some of this old, and paw my hands through the new. That is the part I'm most excited for. The new.

The unknown.

So I leave my last entry in Nunavut, with a photo taken of me last year in Pangnirtung. Fun times in a dry community...who would have thought?

I'm tired of seeing you bundled up in all those clothes...
I've definitely had an adventure here. It wasn't the swash-buckling, crazy marathon adventures some can claim. I never did get to see a polar bear, or sit in an igloo but I met some fantastic people and bonded with a community in such a way that it almost pains me to leave now. Countless airplane rides, frequent flyer miles and a grinning face no matter which way I turn. Yeah. It's been good, but I'm really ready for something else.


Next, please.



Mexico - Hawksley Workman

Labels: 'North', Arctic, Arctic Circle, going, Nunavut, travelling

December 13, 2008. 2:00 p.m.
get the wheel, lets go for a ride...
Jesus Fucking Christ. I love going to places. Staying in one spot for too long drives me a little batty. But the getting to the plane, being in the plane also drives me a little nuts. Sartre was totally spot on: Hell is other people.

Let me repeat: Hell IS other people.

No one has any consideration for anyone else. They are all just yackity yack at you no matter how engrossed you appear to be in your book. They listen to music (which in istelf is completely fine) but with ear phones that seem to be broadcasting the music to the rest of the plane rather than the person they are actually plugged in to.

I wasn't planning on pulling out my iPod to listen to music during the shorter flights because I've been totally lost in A Dull Roar by Henry Rollins (who, by the way totally gets what it is like to want to be alone) but the guy in the NEXT aisle over is listening to his iPod at some insane volume on the worst headphones, ear buds whatever...they are obviously not doing the trick. And I think it's old ACDC he's listening to. Great, the trailer trash music follows me everywhere.

go ahead, I said....erase
So, I'm sitting here, typing up a new entry on my laptop, trying to drown out the smells and noises of the people surrounding me. I guess I've been in the North too long, living it up on my own with too much relish, because last night I went into a bar to get a G&T and got a little twitchy for all the people in the place. All of them loaded, leering and loud. That didn't stop me from snorkeling down 4 drinks in 45 minutes before tottering out, but it wasn't the most enjoyable experience. I went back to the hotel room, listened to music, read and surfed the net.

I can see the airline ladies serving food ahead of me, and pouring drinks. They actually have wine. I wonder if I will have any. I don't think so. I am more hungry than anything else. It's a long plane ride (for me, anyway) of three hours, so maybe a bit of wine will help me conk out for a bit. Interesting to see my thought processes, isn't it?

Food time.

9:03 p.m.
are you still there? Yeah, I'm here
In Toronto. At a Perkin's restaurant next to the hotel I'm staying at. They lost my bag, which I expected. I don't know why. I just presumed that there would be an issue. Any time I am not dragging my luggage off a conveyor belt at each airport I ghost through, I just presume no one else will do it for me. And apparently I was right (this time). Luckily, I am used to travelling somewhat lightly, and packed everything essential in my backpack which comes on with me. Camera, laptop, sleeping clothes.

December 14, 2008. 9:08 a.m.
On a small plane to Sudbury, Ontario. Met up with Pam, a friend of mine from a few years ago. We keep in touch but so weird to run into one another just out of the blue. Took a photo. Will post later.

Bag found. All harmony restored to present state. Looking forward to landing and getting a coffee and having a long cigarette. This is only an hour long flight. Had one last night as well from Ottawa to Toronto. Watched a small part of The Dark Knight. I have a little thing for Heath Ledger. But we landed too quickly for me to get too far into the movie. Will have to pick it up at some point.

Almost 'home'. Where is home exactly...?

December 18, 2008. 10:32 p.m.
Updating journals. Alone in the house in Northern Ontario. Parents have gone to pick up one of the nephews in London. The christmas lights are on, the house must look like a beacon of sorts. The northern ontario winter is in full bloom and the snow falls while I'm outside smoking. Buckley and Marble in some sort of glory, with the treats I hand out and Beebs sleep beside me at night. I wish they were packable so I could bring them with me wherever I go.

Small road trip planned for tomorrow. Just me, music and the road. Black ribbons of it rising up in front of me. My mascaraed eyes and plumes of cigarette smoke.

Can you picture it, beauties?

Get the Wheel - Greg Dulli
The Lure Would Prove to Be too Much - The Twilight Singers

Labels: 'North', music, Northern Ontario, Nunavut, packing, pets, The Twilight Singers, travelling, Twilight Singers, writing

I have actually been working like the proverbial dog, so haven't had any chance at all to do my ordinary internet activities. That is not to say there haven't been journal entries floating around in my head like little story fruits. Fruits, not fishes. Fruit I can eat right away. Fish, I actually need to prepare and dig in.

Work, of course has been crazy. Today it's still busy, but not so bad I can't sit here and quickly type out an entry for your feasting eyes and brain.

Home life, not so awesome. I'm starting to miss things more intensely. Like sushi. The Vietnam Restaurant (really, the guy should be paying me, the amount of times I mention this place). I miss my nephews. I miss my mom, and even my cranky stepdad.

I've been waffling on whether or not to go home for Christmas, not because I don't want to see anyone, but because of the cost it involves. I've been lucky the past few times to catch a ride on a south bound plane, but this time, I'll actually have to pay. To the tune of over $2500.00. Depressingly, I noticed I can fly to Hawaii for that amount. And I've pretty much decided to do it, because really...I can easily get my savings back up again (the trip home plus an arctic winter parka that I have to buy for the coming winter, wipes out pretty much my entire nest egg) and the trip will be worth it, really. I just looked at the dates and it looks like I can get in almost 4 weeks of family and 'being in the South' goodness before coming back here and waiting out the dark winter months.

The parka. Ok. I bought one down south before coming up here, knowing full well I would be needing a more 'bells and whistles' type of jacket for the -60 temps that are the norm around here in January and February. So I've been shopping around. Two problems, the parkas I've been looking at aren't what are necessary up here, and I need a larger size (which I rarely see). So, not only do I never see Arctic-hardy parkas but I also need them in size gigantic.

But then I find one. Even one in my size. But it's over $700.00 and I just cringe at spending that amount of money on a jacket that doesn't say Prada on it somewhere. They have it in size Fat, but it's a purple colour, and it's pretty darn big (I just know it will weigh a ton, goosedown and all that). Which all just reaffirms my theory that the clothing industry is trying to shame/embarrass fat people into losing weight by making them wear hideous clothes. I did eventually find a place that sells them for 400 dollars instead of the full price, and after mulling it over for a few days, I placed the order today. It's a good brand, and I've heard nothing but good reviews about it, so I know at least I won't be cold when I'm out and about enjoying the -60 wind chill action come January. I guess I'm just cheap.

A self portrait I took a couple of weeks ago.


Had a good Thanksgiving. I went to eat dinner with a couple of the teachers but I ended up drinking way too much wine and barfing. I would expand on that, but something tells me you don't really want to hear that part. At the end of the night, I tucked up my leftovers on a tinfoil covered plate and listened to Matt Good on my walk home. I remember really hoping I wasn't being stupid, carrying food around with me when there are apparently polar bears all over the place. One bad dream, and suddenly the white furry bears scare the crap out of me.

Last night, the chronic insomnia returned with a very mean vengeance. I fell asleep at a reasonable 8-ish (long day when you're kind of hung over) and awoke at 10:30, not falling asleep until about 6 this morning. I got 2 more hours in before having to get up and get ready for work. For some reason this time around, I don't feel like death warmed over today. Maybe it will hit me at quitting time. I'm tired, just not so much so that I want to quit my job and go hide under the covers until the spring thaw.

So, that's it. On my menu this week, it appears to be shrimp. I just need decent seafood sauce and then I'm 'cooking with gas'. I bought another bag of shrimp at lunch time today, it's in a grocery bag hanging off the doorknob to the back door, so it stays frozen for when I go home. I can be smart like that sometimes.
Later,G
.p.s almost forgot. midnight or early morning phone calls to people you'd never normally talk to...are usually a bad idea. Food for thought.

Labels: 'North', alcohol, Arctic, Arctic Circle, how not to be an idiot, Matthew Good, theory

I use up all your forgiveness. Only Bailey continually forgives me for calling him the wrong name (usually Buckley). He doesn't seem to mind. He doesn't even mind when I change the furniture around and he stumbles from one road block to the next (he is blind, remember).

My desk is overflowing with paper. It's coming in from all sides. A form for everything. But there doesn't seem to be one to tell me when it's time to go home. Work is actually interesting today. But I'm not sure when I'll be finished for....the day, anyway.

I broke one of my only rules in the Gish Likes A Guy book. I actually waited for some guy to give me a call, after I had called and left a message. I don't really know what I was thinking, other than the fact that I have precious little else to do, and that I kinda thought I could really dig him. All this, even though I kept insisting to everyone (including myself) that he was SO not my type (he really isn't). Nuts to that, though.

I shouldn't be down about it (and I guess I'm not really) because men wash up on the beach with startling regularity. Pilots, lawyers, scientists of all sorts. But they don't really hold my interest. I'm the one that likes to be caught off guard. Not the kind to watch someone come out of the water, with a resume in their hands, and all their good attributes that steam from my stereotypical mind of what pilots, lawyers and scientists should bear. yeah, something like that.

I'm really looking forward to quitting time today. I'm hoping a bunch of books I ordered are at the post office, and I am really looking forward to buying a new pack of socks. Cold feet and literature.

What more could a girl want?

Labels: 'North', Arctic, blah, men

soldiers fill the hotels on the weekend...
It's snowing here again, today. It's the wispy, unsure kind of snow. It doesn't know whether it's coming or going. It falls in small waves, the wind buffetting the fragile flakes around like New Years confetti. I've been watching it through one of my office windows, while I attend to things at work. The appearance of snow tells my brain that I ought to be putting up christmas lights, and shopping for and wrapping presents. But my logical sense (which has been known to be faulty) kicks in and reminds me that it's only the middle of September.

Still, though. I've been thinking about starting to plan for the holidays. Not the buying and wrapping of presents, but booking airfare and the time off to go home. When I first got here, I said I wouldn't go home for Christmas. But now that I'm here, I think; why the fuck not? So, seat sales, and credit limits have been floating around in my head for the past week or so.

A couple of weeks ago, a friend and I had driven out past the village limits to take a look at the whale that had been caught in early August (while I was away on vacation). There wasn't much left to see, except for a few rib bones and the jaw bone. The jaw was angled on the ground so that it pointed towards the sky, the knuckle bigger than a basketball, completely picked clean of any flesh.

What was left of the whale, looked like industrial waste. What had once been shiny black skin stretched over a 44 foot Bowhead whale was now in tatters. It shrunk back over the blubber that was a surprising shade of orange, reminding me of insulation one puts in their attics. the bones that were left behind were scattered around, some parts of the vertebrae and others appearing to be rib bones which looked smaller than one would imagine.

I took some photos and noticed several hills of gravel marked with posts, all lined up in a row that went down the beach. I was told that is where the majority of the whale meat has been buried in order to ferment. The locals will dig it up at Christmas time. Fermented meat is apparently a delicacy in these parts.

When someone mentioned the annual whale hunt to me, pictures of the shiny black tail fin flipped up out of the water came to mind. Along with images of the body, beached on it's side. Complete. Whole. I was disappointed that I had missed this annual event, but am confident that I will be here next year for the hunt.

I just can't get the idea of the black tail fin, wet and shiny from the water, out of my mind. Like a hand, waving good bye.


Jacksonville Skyline - Whiskeytown

Labels: 'North', Arctic, Arctic Circle, snow, traditional hunting, weather, whale, whales

I have this little disturbing headache that has been rumbling around in my head for the past couple of days.

We have been fogged in for 4 days. FOUR. At first, I thought the fog was nice and insulating and pretty to look at when I went into the kitchen to grab a drink. Now, I just think it's creepy and stifling and for some reason I just wish it would go away. I don't know why, it's not as though fog has a whammy of some kind that can come and GET me. But bugging me, it is.

Thank God I have all 4 seasons of Rescue Me to comfort my poor little starved for 'something' brain. I think the brain is starved for take-out food. Anyway, I am totally hooked on Rescue Me. I have all of the seasons of The Office and I am just not digging it. For whatever reason. But Denis Leary and his long bandy arms and legs, and foul mouth...I grab my cigarette pack and Lite beer and I'm there. It's just good. In a bad kind of way.

Jack drove me around the other day, I grabbed some pictures of the huge communication satellites they have here. There are 6 of them, altogether. One set is so huge it's impressive how much steel it took to build it. And now they are just sitting there, blots on the landscape. It's said the locals are so used to having them there, they now use them as landmarks.
But here's a shot of one of them up close...


So, as you might have guessed I haven't been doing very much with my time other than the now standard dvd watching. I'm planning on a 2 week trip home next week but the logistics of getting from one place to another (without a car) is wearing on my head, so hopefully I get that straightened out. All of this could have been avoided if I just had an ordinary credit card like everyone else. Which I will likely never have because I am bad with money.

If you want to see more of my photos, there are tons at http://www.flickr.com/photos/i_am_gish/

The battery on my ancient 1983 Suburban burnt out so it's being recharged right now at the town garage (which is saying a lot, heh...town garage). So, truck being broken, I had to walk to work. Walking here is ok, it's about 10 minutes. I can handle that. But because of the fog, everything is wet, which means what was once dust is now muck. And I don't have any rubber boots. But who cares, thank goodness I have a washer and dryer in the house.

I also tried fishing the other day, from the ocean's edge. I didn't catch anything (thank god, because then I would have had to kill it) but I found it was very relaxing just casting the line out and reeling it back in.

After all the bitching about the fog, the thought of walking along the edge of the ocean in a heavy sweater and condensation dripping from my hair sounds so....nice.

Gotta run.

Labels: 'North', Denis Leary, fog, Rescue Me, weather

I woke up scared, in my bed last night. A bad dream that made me sleep the remaining hour with the lights on, and missing another body in the house so bad.

Helicopters are constantly thundering above my head, lately. I feel as though I'm in some sort of military state where flights are the norm and that I ought to be expecting soldiers to slowly re-enter the community like lost brothers. But the town has been quiet lately, a lot of people have left to inhabit their summer camps and enjoy being 'out on the land'.

It's just me and helicopters, I suppose. It's such an odd sound to hear...one would expect it to be very quiet.

I've been rather ambitious the past few days. Yesterday I decided to venture out on the land and get some photos of flowers and things that are growing. I was eagerly anticipating the growth of a common flower in the arctic called Arctic Cotton.

They resemble cotton balls on sticks, the flower itself feels and also looks like white rabbit fur blowing in the wind.


Then today, I decide I am going to find someone to give or sell me an Arctic Char which is a common fish and also considered a delicacy around the world. I'm not normally a fish person, the best I can usually do is tuna from a can, or maybe perch or halibut. Something that doesn't taste fishy, which sort of defeats the purpose, right? So, I was driving all over trying to figure out who were regularly fished, and who might want to part with a fresh one that I can cook for dinner tonight. A friend gave me two idiot-proof recipes, and I was anxious to try it.

The thing about the north is that nothing comes in a tidy little package. I ended up coming home with this gigantic fish in a grocery bag, with his head still attached. At least his innards had been cleaned. At least, I think I was supposed to leave the main blood line in there...eep.


So, I chopped off the head, it's sitting in the sink right now. I was planning on taking it over to one of the sled dog teams that are posted on the outskirts of the village, but one head for 7 dogs doesn't really make any sense. So it will likely end up in the trash. I can't stop looking at it's eye balls. I feel as though I want to keep it around for awhile, like a little friend.


I made some steaks, I guess you could call them and saved those for tomorrow (in the event this evening's dish turns to disaster) and the other half of the fish is currently wrapped in tinfoil and being baked in the oven. I seasoned it with salt and pepper, some garlic (because I like garlic), a tad bit of olive oil and wrapped it up and tossed it in there. The only thing is...umm, well, I couldn't get the tail fin off because my knives are crappy, and the tinfoil wasn't long enough, so it's sticking out of the pan. Clearly, and this should be no surprise to you, this is an amateur job.

Hopefully, that won't hurt the cooking of the rest of the fish.

And for the first time, I touched the water that was the ocean. Salty water on my tongue.


And it just amazes me, the view from the shore of my melting ocean...

Labels: 'North', Arctic Circle, cooking, dinner, flowers, photographs, photography

My plan for going to bed early and early to rise has thwarted me. I snapped wide awake at around midnight. I lay there in my dark bed, looking around at the semi-darkness of the bedroom. Also the cracks of light coming through the tinfoil on my windows, and the light that was sneaking up the stairs from the first floor.

It's all just trying to get in. To get to the thin skin that covers my eyes.

So I wandered downstairs to get a drink and shot this from my kitchen window.


Admittedly, not a great photo but I just wanted to get across that the sun really doesn't set around here, this time of year. I mean, I tell people that but they just can't comprehend it. I swear the sun just goes around the sky in a big circle, finally looking a little like dawn at around midnight.

Otherwise, you can catch me on my couch watching CSI reruns and smoking cigarettes. The weather has been too chilly for any outdoor activities, and honestly...I am a little afraid of going too far from the house because of the polar bear action outside of the village. I'm not ready to be anyone's dinner just yet.

In other news, I ran out of laundry soap the other day and had to buy a little box of it at the cost of $25.00. I bought about 5 big bottles of the stuff and it's waiting to be moved up here, but the laundry couldn't wait. Especially since I always want to wear one of two pairs of jeans. No fancy office suits for me, up here.

Maybe there will be some photos to be had this weekend. I was planning on rearranging the living room just because....

I can.

Labels: 'North', Nunavut