Monday, July 30, 2007
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Wednesday, July 4 . . . Driving to Labrador
Today we are traveling up the lone road out of town, into Labrador. Our little car climbs up the huge hill, turning at the top as we round the corner of the cliff that we can see from our house. We pass through the first town then, ahead is a straight road with hills, valleys, and grass on our right and left. One long lake has a floatplane docked at the only house we’ve seen on the road. We climb up another hill and before us is the ocean. We can see a few icebergs of different sizes. The rays bounce off the ice and I can see the deep blue beneath the surface where the ice is more dense.
The land in Labrador is vast. Brown, grey, and green fill my eyes. There are hills, cliffs of rocks, and clusters of small trees. We travel parallel to the ocean. Each small village sits on its own separate bay, and although there are many curves, there is only one road that connects them all. The ocean always seems to reappear over the next great hill.
The land in Labrador is vast. Brown, grey, and green fill my eyes. There are hills, cliffs of rocks, and clusters of small trees. We travel parallel to the ocean. Each small village sits on its own separate bay, and although there are many curves, there is only one road that connects them all. The ocean always seems to reappear over the next great hill.
Tuesday, July 3 . . . Rain
Today, I come up with some activities for the kids at the local camp to do on Thursday. I look out the window, and I see the water is as still as glass. The sun is setting, however there is no water in the east so I look out on the cliffs and valley to see the sun go down through the clouds. It’s a brilliant pink and orange color that lights up all the clouds, except the ones in the far distance. Dark, black clouds tower over the citrus colors. The water is disturbed as it begins to rain harder and harder. I step outside and if I listen closely I can hear the water hitting each wave of the ocean. I go back inside before I get too wet, and I spend the night listening to the pitter-patter on the roof above me, eventually soothing me to sleep.
Monday, July 2 . . . Exploring
Today there is not much work to do so we decide to take a drive. We can still see the ocean but we are now traveling deeper into the hills. We pass by a little lake surrounded by hills. It is as peaceful as a sleeping baby. We approach a rushing river that is flowing into the low tide ocean. I look to see where the river is coming from, and I see we have been driving by a huge mountainside.
We stop the car and climb up the side to get a closer look. It appears that we could jump across the waterfall that cuts the slope in half, but as we approach the cliff the other side seems miles away.
We hike back to the car and drive for a little longer. The road dead ends, so we turn around and hang around at the house. When night approaches the moon comes out. I understand the myth about the moon being made out of cheese. Perhaps orange American cheese, however. It is so bright, like a jack-o-lantern on Halloween. The rest of the sky is filled with millions of stars. Between living right near the water, and the clear night sky, there is something twinkling all day.
We stop the car and climb up the side to get a closer look. It appears that we could jump across the waterfall that cuts the slope in half, but as we approach the cliff the other side seems miles away.
We hike back to the car and drive for a little longer. The road dead ends, so we turn around and hang around at the house. When night approaches the moon comes out. I understand the myth about the moon being made out of cheese. Perhaps orange American cheese, however. It is so bright, like a jack-o-lantern on Halloween. The rest of the sky is filled with millions of stars. Between living right near the water, and the clear night sky, there is something twinkling all day.
Sunday, July 1 . . . Capelins and Fireworks
This morning I do not wake up until late, but the sun is shining down on me in my room. As I go downstairs to eat breakfast, I see it. The sun reflects off the water, twinkling like diamonds. From the same window I see a point where the land ends. Everything is rugged. Greens and browns blend together to create a hill, and a gray road leads to another town over the hill. Our house is right on the bay, and behind our shed is where the ferry to Newfoundland departs.
We are in the town of Blanc Sablon, which consists of residences and a few stores, including a grocery. An inlet of water separates us from the rest of the town. I walk outside to feel the warm sun mix with the cool breeze. Shrubs and newly planted pine trees surround me. Right next to the deck bloom little white flowers; later on in the season, bakeapple will begin growing right in our backyard. Rocks, grass and flowers cover the ground and slowly give way to our dirt driveway.
A Minke whale skull and a piece of vertebrae lie in our yard like we were fisherman and these were the remains of what we had caught. Sophia calls my name to look out the window on the other side of the house. I see an owl, and at the moment it’s swooping through the hills and cliffs. Huge rocks dot the landscape and the owl flies toward them through the valley. Then it flies back toward our house and hides behind a rock across the road. As we look more closely, we see it’s eating lunch.
We take a drive back down to the beach. As we start down a hill we see more houses, but mostly the vast sea. We climb down to the beach. We are lucky today; the capelins are rolling. Capelins, to escape from the whales, come to the shoreline to breed. There are thousands of them splashing up with the waves. At first they look like a black cloud in the water, but then they shine like a mermaid’s tail. I stick my hand into the ice-cold water, and after a couple of attempts I finally grab a fish. It flops back and forth in my hand and I can’t stand to kill it, so I throw it back into the water with all the others.
We return home just in time to see the Canada Day parade drive by our house. Red and white decorates every car; drivers honk their horns as we wave. We hear music coming from in town where there are more festivities. We walk over to say hi to the locals at their barbecue.
On our way back we walk on the shore of the inlet. There are rocks in the water like stepping stones, and tiny waves break on the shore. One fisherman is suited up, and I wonder if he catches anything at such a low tide. We explore an old rusted ship stranded ashore, but there is not much to it. So we climb back up the bank, on the uneven grass and rocks. We must be careful not to fall into any ditches. That night we watch a small fireworks display from our porch. They’re not extravagant but are enough to light up the sky with pink, green, and white.
We are in the town of Blanc Sablon, which consists of residences and a few stores, including a grocery. An inlet of water separates us from the rest of the town. I walk outside to feel the warm sun mix with the cool breeze. Shrubs and newly planted pine trees surround me. Right next to the deck bloom little white flowers; later on in the season, bakeapple will begin growing right in our backyard. Rocks, grass and flowers cover the ground and slowly give way to our dirt driveway.
A Minke whale skull and a piece of vertebrae lie in our yard like we were fisherman and these were the remains of what we had caught. Sophia calls my name to look out the window on the other side of the house. I see an owl, and at the moment it’s swooping through the hills and cliffs. Huge rocks dot the landscape and the owl flies toward them through the valley. Then it flies back toward our house and hides behind a rock across the road. As we look more closely, we see it’s eating lunch.
We take a drive back down to the beach. As we start down a hill we see more houses, but mostly the vast sea. We climb down to the beach. We are lucky today; the capelins are rolling. Capelins, to escape from the whales, come to the shoreline to breed. There are thousands of them splashing up with the waves. At first they look like a black cloud in the water, but then they shine like a mermaid’s tail. I stick my hand into the ice-cold water, and after a couple of attempts I finally grab a fish. It flops back and forth in my hand and I can’t stand to kill it, so I throw it back into the water with all the others.
We return home just in time to see the Canada Day parade drive by our house. Red and white decorates every car; drivers honk their horns as we wave. We hear music coming from in town where there are more festivities. We walk over to say hi to the locals at their barbecue.
On our way back we walk on the shore of the inlet. There are rocks in the water like stepping stones, and tiny waves break on the shore. One fisherman is suited up, and I wonder if he catches anything at such a low tide. We explore an old rusted ship stranded ashore, but there is not much to it. So we climb back up the bank, on the uneven grass and rocks. We must be careful not to fall into any ditches. That night we watch a small fireworks display from our porch. They’re not extravagant but are enough to light up the sky with pink, green, and white.
Saturday, June 30 . . . Arriving in Blanc Sablon
I wake up at 4:30 a.m. and call a taxi. The airport is completely deserted. I sit, dozing, until a janitor tells me my airline doesn’t fly out on Saturdays. I wait until 7:30 a.m. and then call a taxi. As I’m getting into the taxi, another passenger informs me that the flight is leaving at 9 a.m. Somehow the airline had informed everyone except me. Exhausted, I walk onto the plane; I’m awake for our arrival in Chevry.
As I look down I can’t figure out if I am looking at lots of little islands or lots of little lakes right next to the ocean. As we take off again I nod off, sleeping through the next stop and waking up as we land in Blanc Sablon. My final destination.
My boss is in the hospital so Sophia, the intern with whom I’m living, is waiting to pick me up. As I walk off the plane, I see lots of different shades of green and rocky hills, very different from what I had seen in Sept Iles and Chevry. Sophia picks me out immediately, since I am the only one who has no family running to greet me. She helps me grab my bags and gives me a quick tour of the town as we drive to the house.
I am in a coastal village. When I landed I had not seen any water and was very confused. But with one turn we are driving along the shoreline all the way to the house. Sophia gives me a quick tour of the house but I don’t soak anything in; I see my bed and fall asleep for another six hours.
Sophia wakes me up for dinner. Later we head down to the dark shore in hopes we’ll see the Capelin, a small fish, roll into shore. Folks actually scoop them up by the bucket—or net—full. Tonight, we are unlucky so we head back home and fall asleep.
As I look down I can’t figure out if I am looking at lots of little islands or lots of little lakes right next to the ocean. As we take off again I nod off, sleeping through the next stop and waking up as we land in Blanc Sablon. My final destination.
My boss is in the hospital so Sophia, the intern with whom I’m living, is waiting to pick me up. As I walk off the plane, I see lots of different shades of green and rocky hills, very different from what I had seen in Sept Iles and Chevry. Sophia picks me out immediately, since I am the only one who has no family running to greet me. She helps me grab my bags and gives me a quick tour of the town as we drive to the house.
I am in a coastal village. When I landed I had not seen any water and was very confused. But with one turn we are driving along the shoreline all the way to the house. Sophia gives me a quick tour of the house but I don’t soak anything in; I see my bed and fall asleep for another six hours.
Sophia wakes me up for dinner. Later we head down to the dark shore in hopes we’ll see the Capelin, a small fish, roll into shore. Folks actually scoop them up by the bucket—or net—full. Tonight, we are unlucky so we head back home and fall asleep.
Friday, June 29 . . . Fog Delays
My first flight is simple. I take a Continental Express plane from Newark Airport to Quebec City. I leave the sticky, humid, heat of New York, arrive in Canada and encounter my first obstacle. Customs had not been warned of my arrival, so I sit, patiently waiting for them to figure out what the word “intern” means. After an hour they finally agree that I am to leave Canada by August 11 and I will not to be paid. I walk outside, where the Caribbean-strong sun beats down on me; a cold breeze sweeps by.
As I board a second plane, I realize I have entered the commercial version of a privately owned plane. I, along with everyone else, have a window and aisle seat. We take off, and before I know it we are preparing for landing. I look out my window to see the green mainland, and off to the side an island. With a strip of shore and hills of trees, it is small enough that I can see the entire town. I have arrived in Sept Iles.
I eat an early dinner and wait to board my plane. Then the announcement: It is too foggy to land in Blanc Sablon, and we are to return tomorrow morning for a flight leaving sometime between 5 and 8 a.m. The lady at the desk helps me get a hotel room and a taxi.
As we drive I see only the road and trees ahead of me. Suddenly stores, restaurants and gas stations line the street. I arrive at my hotel, where I discover the woman cannot speak English very well. She gives me my room key and offers no other help. I drag my heavy bags into the room and fall onto my bed. I’m tired and confused so I call my Mom to let her know I’m okay, talk to Tom who’s been helping me, and then talk to Andrew until I fall asleep.
As I board a second plane, I realize I have entered the commercial version of a privately owned plane. I, along with everyone else, have a window and aisle seat. We take off, and before I know it we are preparing for landing. I look out my window to see the green mainland, and off to the side an island. With a strip of shore and hills of trees, it is small enough that I can see the entire town. I have arrived in Sept Iles.
I eat an early dinner and wait to board my plane. Then the announcement: It is too foggy to land in Blanc Sablon, and we are to return tomorrow morning for a flight leaving sometime between 5 and 8 a.m. The lady at the desk helps me get a hotel room and a taxi.
As we drive I see only the road and trees ahead of me. Suddenly stores, restaurants and gas stations line the street. I arrive at my hotel, where I discover the woman cannot speak English very well. She gives me my room key and offers no other help. I drag my heavy bags into the room and fall onto my bed. I’m tired and confused so I call my Mom to let her know I’m okay, talk to Tom who’s been helping me, and then talk to Andrew until I fall asleep.
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