Very...Far From The Madding Crowd (Greenland, part I)

I was doing Garbo ...

Yes, it was summer in NYC, the Fourth of July holiday was approaching . . . the city was in the midst of a brutal heat wave, the noise, the smell, the people, I felt as if the city walls were pressing in on me.  I had an urge to get away, far away. I wanted desolation, a big landscape.

Like the luscious Swedish screen star . . . I too ached “to be alone.”

In my little cubicle, I had a map of the world taped against the wall. Constant inspiration, you know. My eyes wondered about the map searching for the right destination to fit my current mood.  From the Patagonia, up to Alaska, across to Russia’s Siberia, Mongolia, and then back across before settling on Greenland.

Greenland, it looked gigantic, as it took up a good three by two inches of white on top of the world map.  Greenland, even as a young boy had always fascinated me.  The size of it, the lack of people, who lived there, what did they do?

And then I thought of my friend Einar, who is the Director of Tourism for the Icelandic Tourist Board. Four years ago I traveled Iceland, a country of stunning beauty. I remember Einar saying that Iceland was just a “warm up” for Greenland. “If you want something really different go to Greenland.” But he added, “make sure you go to the east Coast, this has the more traditional Inuit culture, is more primitive, and with the wildest landscape.”

So while my co-workers had plans to splash in the surf of the Hamptons, or barbecue in the Berkshires for the holiday, I would be headed to Greenland’s east coast, to, well, not really sure what was going to take place.  The unknowing I found totally exhilarating.

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At 35, 000 feet I was fixated on the view below . . . White, white, and more white.  An endless carpet of white interrupted at times by splashes of vivid blue.  For nearly ninety minutes this view continued to enthrall as my flight flew across the glacier called Greenland, from west to east.

I was feeling better now.  Less anxious, more relaxed and hopeful that I was on my way to finding the Greenland that captured my imagination, the Greenland of massive landscapes, desolation, and traditional Inuit ways.

My brief one day stay in Nuuk (pronounced as in disaster) Greenland’s largest city, located on the west coast, with its drab Soviet architecture, Mercedes – Benz dealership, Benton, KFC, and seemingly a cell phone boutique on every corner had left me confused.  Yes, everything   seemed to be getting up to date in Nuuk, good for the locals I suppose, but for me, this was not the Greenland I had been seeking. I was disappointed.

I kept reflecting on Einar’s words about the east Coast and this is where I would find the real Greenland.  I hope he was right.

Suddenly my peaceful bucolic white landscape vanished as the small aircraft entered a dark cloud, the plane was jolted and rocked.  For a good five minutes the plane was engulfed by the cloud.  It was dark. Dark as in black. No visibility. The aircraft shook even more violently as it dipped and rolled.  Across from me was a very old Inuit woman who was crying and pressing what looked to be a picture of someone against the window. And then, just as I was getting concerned about the situation, there was a clearing in the cloud and down below rose jagged dark peaks.  The plane continued to duck in and out of the black clouds making for zero visibility and then at times it would open up with a brief view of the dramatic brooding mountains and revealing the sea what looked to be thousands of pieces of floating ice.

Checking my watch I knew we had to be close to arriving at Kulusuk.  There were a couple more quick violent shakes and then the plane entered a clearing, elevated, and made a very wide turn and began a route back which ran for a few minutes right over the snow capped mountains which sprouted directly out of the water with thousands of pieces of floating ice.  MAGNIFICENT!  Despite the anxiety of the ride, I was enthralled by the vista.  Then the plane entered into another dark cloud for about a minute, and then out of nowhere appeared a tiny landing strip and the plane dipped down aggressively and with a big thump.  WOW! WHEW! We had arrived.

Kulusuk Airport felt like the ends of the earth.  Surrounded by razor edged brooding peaks, the sky hung low and ominous, the wind cold, biting.  A stray dog walked the tarmac, a couple teenage Inuit boys watched me suspiciously from a distance.  And no cars anywhere, as there are no roads to Tasiilaq. The only transport was by helicopter, which was to arrive in ten minutes.   

The ride in the helicopter was fantastic!   The sensation was very cool, the revving of the blade, faster and faster and faster, and then just lifting off, straight up and out.  And what a ride it was!  The helicopter dipping down and flying so close to the mountains, that I felt I could reach out and touch them.  The mountains rising out of the still water were piercing in formation, and the endless pieces of broken ice, including ice burgs looking like large globs of whip cream.

I could not hide my enthusiasm as I kept saying “fantastic,” “beautiful,” out loud and gesturing to the pilot.  He seemed to appreciate my unrestrained enthusiasm and he responding by putting on somewhat of a “display” and making my flight as dramatic as possible.  And within twenty minutes we were now hovering over Tasiilaq. Its location was jaw dropping. 

As I worked my way out of the helicopter, feeling enthralled by the ride and attempted to give the pilot a tip which he kindly refused.  Looking up at the town the little wooden house painted in bright varied colors of red, yellow, green, blue, seemed almost toy like. I walked up the quiet paved road, this seeming to be the only road, as I looked out and could see it winding up and through the town.

I felt giddy with happiness as I threw on my backpack and walked up the steep road looking for the “Red House” where I was planning to stay.  According to my Lonely Planet Guide it was the only place for accommodations in the village.  It took me about 45 minutes to reach it, not that it was such a far walk, but because I took my time as I walked, turning around several times taking in the view and the grandeur of the setting.  Thoughts of Nuuk, with its Mercedes dealership now seemed very far away . . . Yes, now this was how I envisioned Greenland!

I spotted the “Red House,” it named for its color and not political ideology.  It was a simple bright red wooden house that was perched on the edge of a rock cropping.  The setting was spectacular.  However, I was not ready yet to check into the guesthouse, as I was enthralled by the beauty of the land and began to walk up and up, scrambling on the hill, and finally stopped and beheld the view in front of me.

Looking out across the colorful wooden houses stretched a long range of snowcapped dark jagged mountain. The mountains not that high, but extremely steep rising straight out of the  water, the water a dark blue, but so still like glass, and studded with broken ice and ice burgs. Some of the ice burgs looked to be at least 50 feet high, and they floated so slowly.  The setting was almost surreal in its beauty. I felt frozen from it.

For the four days that I stayed in Tasiilaq the Red House was my home.  It was an ideal place to stay.  The location offered breathtaking vistas, and though certainly not fancy, it was basic and comfortable.  I had my own room, a bed and not much more.  But it was all I needed. They also served a decent food, though pretty heavy on fish, especially cod as you can imagine.  There seemed to be eight rooms, but I noticed only three other travelers, two middle aged German woman, and an older gentleman from Scotland.

The Red House was run by an Italian man named Robert Peroni, who came to Greenland some twenty three years ago and fell under its spell.  He told me that coming from Milan, he was taken by its beauty, vastness, and the simple and real quality of the people.  He is somewhat of a legend in the town for his involvement and benevolence with the local Inuit. He speaks fluent Greenlandic, both east and west coast dialects.  So Robert was a terrific source of any questions I had on the area.

To give you an idea of the scope and space of Greenland, especially eastern Greenland, consider the following. In the entire country of Greenland, there are only 50,000 people. The town I am in Tasiilaq, which is the largest city in eastern Greenland, has a population of 1,200.  The locals refer to eastern Greenland as Ammassalik.  In all of eastern Greenland, (Ammassalik) an area of 154,000 square which is approximately the same size of Great Britain, there are only 3,000 people. I find that astonishing.  And of those living in eastern Greenland, 93% of the people are indigenous Greenlanders, or Inuit. (The Inuit is classified as Eskimo) Note, that on the west coast, (where the largest city Nuuk is located) the population is split 50/50 between Danish and Inuit.

And what is truly amazing and I did not know this till Robert told me, that the area of Ammassalik (eastern Greenland) was unknown to the world up until it was discovered in 1884 by a Danish sea captain named Gustav Holm.  At this time there were only 419 people making up this massive area.  The west coast on the other hand has been known since 1721 having been colonized by Denmark.

For the first couple of days I would get up each morning, and following a breakfast of a variety of surprisingly good cheeses and herring and go for long leisurely hikes on the trails drawn up by Robert.  The landscape was wild and open and desolate.  Just me, and a few chirping birds.  Several times I would just stop and sit and look out in awe at the majestic mountains, the floating ice burgs and taking in the stillness.

On one of the hikes I did come across an Inuit man of about fifty years old who was sitting off the trail seeming to carve a piece of wood. I greeted him with “Hilory” the Greenlandic word for hello. He padded the ground for me to sit next to him.  I joined him and watched him carve away, he then stopped and reached in his bag and brought out a necklace.  The necklace was a small perhaps half inch carving in bone of a polar bear’s face attached to a black string.  He placed it in my hand and when I gave it back to him he closed my fist as to keep it. I reached into my pocket to give him some money, but he shook his head no. The piece was very unusual and lovely. I pleaded for him to accept my money, but he was adamant. I would sit with him quietly for another hour or so as I had my lunch, cheese sandwich, which I offered him, and he accepted, while he chewed aggressively on some grizzly looking meat item…and then I left, hugging him and waving again from a distance.

Getting contact with the locals is so important to me when I travel, and I was fortunate to get this in my brief time in Taliisaq, from both the native Inuit and Danish people I met. 

One of my best encounters was with was a young Danish couple I met at 4am . . . No, I did not meet them at some wild late night party or bar but instead sitting on a rock not far from the Red House, watching the light play off the mountains water.  With this being July and Greenland situated above the Arctic Circle, the sun would never set.  I found myself each night sitting on the rock jut watching mystified by the sky and surroundings.  I got very little sleep during my Greenland visit.

Her name was Toril and his Sven, he carrying a sleeping baby on his front in a sling. They were the classic looking all-Danish couple. Both were in their mid 20’s, tall, blonde, and very healthy and athletic looking.  They were just returning from the town’s small medical center where she worked as a nurse part time and a mid-wife as well. They had been in Taliisaq now for nearly a year and planned to stay and work there for two years before returning to Copenhagen. Their eight month baby boy was named Evan.

Because of Toril’s employment at the medical center she got a close up view of one of eastern Greenland’s biggest problems, that being spouse and child abuse, much of this stemming from the chronic drinking problems that plagued the Inuit.  Toril informed me that there never seemed to be an evening go by that a woman did not enter the center with a “beat up look.” She also mentioned that sexual disease was rampant, and that up to 90% of the adults had some type of venereal disease. But despite seeing such hardship she and Sven loved the people their naturalness and the magnificent landscape and quiet. They both agreed hardily that they were in no hurry to return to Denmark.

We spent a couple late evenings again on that rock, midnight, 3am, 5am, I was never sure of the time. We would just sit sipping on Tuborg Beer and staring out at the majestic landscape in front of us. As mentioned before, the sun would never fully set, it would just soften in its coloring and at times a white cloud or mist would form above the placid water giving the illusion of cutting the mountains in half.  The view was not just beautiful, it was more than this, it was otherworldly.  It was a vista that made you speak quietly with a reverence.  And tuning to look over to the left the sounds of screams and laughter as a there was a soccer game going on, which I am sure would go on all through the night.

Sleep was difficult that night . . . sure the constant light streaming in my window certainly had something to do with it, but instead my mind buzzed with glorious visions that of these past couple of days in Greenland…the land, the sky, the people. This Fourth of July holiday I had hoped to find my Garboesque escape . . .in Greenland I indeed found it!

…To be continued