Bear with me people, this last entry of the Chronicles of Nunavut is rather introspective, a bit melodramatic, and is quite long. What I’ll do to help out my busy friends and family is highlight points of interest.
So here I am, sitting in the Winnipeg airport, drinking my Tim Hortons coffee and eating my Tim Hortons muffin, (huzzah, the return of excessively available mass produced fast food!), suddenly feeling very “big city”.
As I sit here, waiting for a delayed flight to Calgary, where I will wait a few more hours for my flight to Abbotsford, I can’t help but notice the stark differences between Nunavut and the rest of Canada more sharply than ever (and I’m only in the Winnipeg airport, not quite downtown Toronto or Vancouver…).
As we were touching down in Winnipeg, this strangling sense of claustrophobia started to set in. I was literally nearly nauseous; I couldn’t look out the window. I’m only being slightly dramatic. Seriously though, so many houses, so many buildings, so many roads—not at all what I have become accustomed to.
Perhaps it’s the initial culture shock of returning to this world, but it’s quite stifling. People everywhere, everyone rushing, hustling and bustling, and such. To be fair, I’m in an airport—not exactly a stress-free environment. Nevertheless, it’s bizarre how quickly it comes back, that sense of anxiety, anticipation, you know the one. I remember when I first arrived in Rankin, I often had to remind myself to be patient with the slower, more relaxed pace (“Rankin time” funnily enough resembles “Ecuadorian time”, not to mention “Laos time” and other similar locales). Throughout my time there, I came to understand what that slower pace really stood for: real conversations, relationships, connections, and genuine friendships. Unlike some of my other travels, I was really able to not only adjust to the lifestyle, but for once truly embrace it. I cherished the nearly daily exchanges I had with the butcher, the produce guy, the different cashiers at the Northern and Co-op, who I would see working other jobs all over town, the cooks at the Sugar Rush, my neighbours and of course my colleagues.
Let’s be real—there really isn’t a lot to do in the North if you don’t have great relationships. I was fortunate enough to have met some extremely amazing people and develop some relationships that I will cherish always. Of course I had my moments where I felt a bit homesick or lonely (well, really just one—being the sole Canucks fan on the day of the Stanley Cup Finals was a bit depressing). Again, unlike anywhere else I’ve ever been, I had the time to develop these fantastic relationships—with people that I will in all likelihood never see again. When anyone heard I was leaving, there first question was “when are you coming back?”
Rankin isn’t really a place that you “pop back to”, and truthfully, there really isn’t anything that would see me return there in the near future. I was contemplating this again this morning, while in line to buy some char jerky and say goodbye to my favourite cashier, and feeling a bit low. When I reached in my wallet to pay, I found a few things in there that I hadn’t seen in months. The first was a decrepit note written from some of my law buddies containing a list of books that I was supposed to try to get through this summer (I made it through two of them…). The next was the picture of my niece Hayley bawling on Santa’s lap. I had one of those rare moments of clarity then, like, I know why I am going home. Life has been great here, but no matter where I go, when I go, for how long I go, home is waiting for me, and I want to be there.
I will miss so much about Rankin. I will miss the two guys in the red truck that waved to me every morning at 658 am as I ran by the north side of Williamson Lake and they drive to their job at the middle school. I will miss the way the air smelled when the light arctic breeze brought the ocean right into my office, the way it smelled right before it was about to rain, the way the air smelled after it rained, really just the air altogether. I will miss seeing entire families riding around on one Honda, small children waving furiously while grinning ear to ear as they zoom by. I will miss the free time that I had to journal and think. I will miss walking down the street and being more likely to know or at least recognize someone than not. I will miss the beautiful Inuktitut language, both hearing it and seeing it. I will miss the GAME! Never before have I eaten so well, with all the delicious char, trout, and caribou available! I will miss the novelty of small town life, how every day taught me something new about myself. I will miss the celebrations, the square dances, the parties, the singing. I will miss the radio station that cut into songs to remind a certain individual to bring home milk after work. I will miss the music. I will miss the reverence for Elders and traditional practises. I will miss the exciting challenges my work position brought every day. I will miss all the great friends I made.
The last few weeks of my time in Rankin brought some amazing developments, including witnessing the caribou migrations right along the outskirts of the hamlet when they haven’t come through in the past five years (terrible pictures to be added at some point), hikes to Thule archaeological sites, and the general beauty of the arctic tundra, not to mention my amazing circuit court experiences.
To be continued/edited when i'm actually home I suppose.
And so end the Chronicles of Nunavut. For now.
