Nunavut notes - day 1 in Iqaluit

1530h, sunset, as I trudge up the long, long hill to the apartment. It's been a long day, it seems. I left Ottawa in the grip of an icy storm, with tree-tops heavy in snow-dresses, and leafless branches twisting to the sky. Twenty minutes of furious de-icing by the ground-crew, and we were off. The day was bright, and I could catch good glimpses of bright snow sweeping across the earth in every direction. Almost flat - an undulating ripple much like the swells of the sea. And my sense of scale and perspective all wrong - are we flying low, just above the surface of the treeless barrens, or far above, distance dwarfing rolling hills and rocky lands?

The run-way here in Iqaluit is just long enough that it has apparently been designated as an alternative landing site for the space shuttle. Probably overkill for our comfortable little jet. We landed, and after a short wait for the stairs (they were frozen, so was the back-up generator for the spare set), we disembarked. The air against my face, in my lungs, was cold, but I felt well-prepared with my new cold-weather gear: down vest, parka, 2 layers of mits, fleece hat, balaclava, long-johns... I missed my greeters at first, but then I saw Steve, dwarfed by his giant blue, borrowed parka with thick fur trim, and we gathered my too-full bags to take them to the apartment. First, we dropped off two optometrists preparing to head further north for a week of prescription-writing out in the community. There seem to be lots of people like us here - short stints of work in this remote piece of Canada.

Iqaluit in the sunshine is busy, with a steady buzz of SUVs, taxis and pickups to-ing and fro-ing, and a healthy crowd on foot. I joined the walkers for a few hours in the afternoon, wandering down the hill from the hospital, across town at the NorthMart, and back up again to close the loop to the hospital. Most of the big banks, many government offices, a few coffee shops are here, along with chools, a new, half-finished hospital, and even an electronics chain. The NorthMart has everything - $800 Snow Goose parkas, a small pharmacy, big-screen televisions, dry goods. Produce, fresh or frozen, is exorbitant, but the selection is impressive. Tomatoes - $9/lb, snow peas at outrageous prices, bananas $1.50/lb. But I found (of all things) an avocado I could afford, at $1.49, and bought a small package of tricolor pasta and a little bottle of pesto sauce for a grand, three-item total of over $11. Something to eat tonight if I'm hungry, at least. Will have to be careful not to get scurvy up here (!), and not to be taken-in by the promise of cheap calories offered by the bargain-basement prices on the bags of chips and other junk.

There are many Inuit wearing at least some recognizably traditional outerwear - knee-high skin boots, and babies in the hoods of brigthly decorated amautiks - women's coats with hood-pouches perfect for small children to be carried in. It's not uncool for teens to walk around in snowpants, or big parkas, either. Though there are enough people wearing far less than I can imagine wearing below 30.

Sitting in the apartment, warm roibos tea in hand, watching a calvacade of 13 little spots of light, like ants, crawling across the frozen surface of Frobisher Bay. Clear night, blush of the day's memories lightening the brow of the far-off hills, and steam rising from the houses dotting the hill below mine. No stars yet, but soon, I'm sure, along with dancing sky-light unique to the north, if I am lucky.