After stepping out of the plane, it was official; I had arrived in Inuvik, and I was officially (okay, maybe not officially) a resident of Canada living north of the Arctic Circle. Upon disembarkation from the plane, the few other passengers and I hustled into the airport where I was greeted by my new boss Joe, who I’m guessing was able to pick me out with relative ease. Having only spoken to my new employer over the phone and through email, he was nothing like I imagined him looking like. For some reason that I’m still not sure of, I had drawn up this picture in my head of a short bald man, when in fact he was about 6’6” and had a full mop of hair! Can’t say I was even close on that one. With my fictitious portrayal now blown to shreds, we loaded up my life possessions/two suitcases into his bright yellow Hummer and headed into town for the grand tour. Since Joe has been living up here for around twenty years, he was able to give me an ample tour of the town and all that Inuvik has to offer. We drove around for the better part of an hour and I was shown many of the businesses and amenities on tap in this, the hub of the Western Arctic. Since I have now been living up here for just under two months, I shall attempt to pass on the little that I have absorbed about the town so far.
The first thing that surprised me upon driving into town was just how sprawling Inuvik is for a town of 3,300 people. I must admit, I was expecting a town with a couple major roads and maybe one or two really small subdivisions. Well it is true, that there is only one major road, Mackenzie Road, it’s safe to say that the outlying houses seem to stretch for a fair distance in every direction. Many of the houses are brightly coloured and are of the modular construction variety. Apparently, the houses were first painted these colours because the powers that be felt it would increase morale and happiness amongst the Arctic dwellers during the long, dark winters. Now, maybe it’s just me, but seeing a purple house is generally not going to make me any happier. All it’s going to get out of me is a confused look and some self-questioning like, “how much weed did that dude smoke when he decided to paint his siding?” In addition to being brightly coloured, most of the building foundation structures are built on piles of rock, which prevents the permafrost from getting at them and turning the ground to mush. Another bizarre feature that you don’t see in your every day down south subdivision is large conduit boxes that run through the whole town and seemingly connect every home and business. The conduit boxes measure probably about two feet by two feet and sit a couple of feet off of the ground. Much like the foundations of the buildings, these conduits which contain various pipelines such as water, heat, and sewage are built above the ground to avoid the many problems that the permafrost poses.
Since Inuvik is considered “the gateway” to the Western Arctic and also happens to be the largest populated town in the area, it serves as both the commercial and administrative capital for the area. While it is a small town, it is remarkably the third largest populated town in the Northwest Territories, trailing only the capital Yellowknife (pop, 16,000) and Hay River (pop. 3,600). Since both of those communities are significantly further south, Inuvik is by default the capital of the Arctic region. It acts as the main hub for a number of outlying native communities, with such exotic names as Tuktoyaktuk, Aklavik, and Paulatuk. This in turn means we have a relatively modern and well-equipped hospital, a whole slew of government buildings, a library, a golf driving range/small course, cross country skiing facilities and a recreation centre that rivals and is in fact bigger and better than most of the ones you will see elsewhere in the country. The recreation centre has a hockey rink, squash courts, curling rink, fitness centre, various banquet rooms and bars, and the icing on the cake; a swimming pool complete with fake palm trees! And that’s just the stuff I know about. I’m sure somewhere in the complex they’ve got some sort of hidden bat cave or an evil petting zoo complete with sharks with freakin’ laser beams attached to their heads.
In addition to all of the social services on tap, the town is also home to a number of businesses. On a national front, the one bank in town is a CIBC, so your options on that front are pretty limited. Inuvik also has a Rexall Pharmacy, Home Hardware, and my personal favourite, a KFC/Pizza Hut Express. Other than that, most of the businesses to my knowledge are locally owned, or at least unique to Northern Canada. Some of my personal favourites, include establishments with names like Arctic Digital, Arctic Foods, and Shivers Lounge. There is definitely an underlying theme to a lot of the names, and it is a general rule that if the name of the business doesn’t relate to the cold weather, it has to somehow tie-in to the fact that in the summer we are known as “the land of the midnight sun”.
One business that is truly unique to Inuvik has no name (at least to my knowledge), but the man who runs it is somewhat of a local legend. He goes by the name, “Bill The Fruit Man”, and pimping produce to the locals is his racket. Now as I understand it through talking to co-workers and such, this fellow Bill drives his 18-wheeler big rig down to Vancouver (I think about 3500km each way) and fills his truck to the tits with a wide assortment of produce and groceries. It takes him about ten days to complete the round trip and when he gets back, he sets up shop in a parking lot on the main street and his truck is converted into a makeshift store if you will. The word on the street was that he had much better produce than the local stores and at far better prices. So one day a few weeks ago I headed down to visit “The Fruit Man”, and I must admit I was pleasantly surprised. As promised, his prices were much lower, his produce was respectable (a lot of it in this town is pure grade-A shit), and the novelty of doing my grocery shopping in the back of a big rig was pretty sweet, if not a little bit chilly.
On the opposite end of the fruit truck spectrum is the Mecca of all stores in Inuvik and many a northern community, the aptly named North Mart. Yes, it’s actually called North Mart. The best way to describe it is a poor man’s Wal-Mart. It sells a wide variety of stuff, from electronics to clothing to groceries. The only difference is that everything is about two to three times as much as you would pay for it in the south, and it is usually of two to three times poorer quality. Most of the shit you buy there, makes you realize why people shudder and gasp when they purchase products featuring the famous, “Made in China” tag. I purchased a number of household items there when I first arrived, and it’s safe to say that you couldn’t find crap this bad in the free section of your local Salvation Army back in Toronto.
One question I am often asked by the curious citizens of the south (everywhere is the south from here) is how much stuff costs up here. To put it bluntly, A LOT OF FUCKIN’ MONEY! It goes without saying, that the main staples of my diet are Kraft Dinner, Mr. Noodles, canned beans, canned tuna, and no-name Froot Loops. After scanning a recent receipt from my grocery shopping expedition to North Mart, here are a few prices:
Milk (2L) - $7.04
Apples- $5.69/kg
Bananas- $6.35/kg
Ruffles Potato Chips- $4.59
Pepsi Max (2L) - $3.69
Becel Margarine (454g) - $5.69
And these are just some of the things I actually do buy. Other things that are way out of my price range include things like Delissio frozen pizzas (almost $20 if I’m not mistaken), Tropicana orange juice (2L, goes for almost $10), and don’t even get me started on the name brand cereals. Safe to say, I now purchase cereal that comes in a bag, not a box, a bag. Yes, I have arrived in life!
Aside from North Mart, the next busiest place in town, or the busiest depending on the time of week, and one that I am fond of donating to is the Inuvik Liquor Store. Located off the main drag, the store is pretty unassuming, with not a single window and two steel doors that would not be out of place in Kingston Penitentiary. One can only assume that the lack of windows and Hulk-proof doors are to prevent break-ins. Drinking is seen as a professional sport up here, and well athletes need fuel to keep up their athletic endeavours (great analogy, right?). Or on the other hand, maybe they just don’t want people to see the price of beer before they get in the front door. My first visit there, I could hardly believe it, a 12-pack of Bud was $32! No, that’s not a typo. Beer generally costs just under $60 for a 24-pack of the cheaper varieties. If you feel like drinking something like Corona or Heineken, well my friend you better take out a second mortgage on your house! One other comical aspect was that if you want to buy cold beer out of their fridge they tack on a “cold surcharge”. This amounts to $3 for a 12-pack and $1.50 for a 6-pack. Clearly, I’m in the wrong business. Despite beer prices being almost double what they are back home, I was surprised to see that liquor, wine, coolers, etc were only slightly more expensive than they were in my past life. I have recently tried to drink more spirits and wine, but I almost always end going back to the barley. Safe to say that old habits die hard, or in this case die hard with a northern pricing premium tacked on!
Until next time, stay classy and much love to everyone…
~Brent~
Monday, February 28, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
Thursday, January 13, 2010- I Think I Took A Wrong Turn (Inuvik Part 1)
So, where to begin…that is the question. Let me first start by saying to everyone who has asked over the last couple of months that NO I am not crazy and secondly my fingers, toes, and testicles have not frozen off; yet. For those not in the know, I Brent Moreau aka BigIdiotStick have moved to what many people refer to as the end of the earth, or as it is formally known, Inuvik, Northwest Territories, Canada (population 3,300).
The first and most obvious question that people have asked me over the last couple of months is why move to one of the coldest and darkest places in the world when you have a perfectly good job at home in the Greater Toronto Area, and all your family and friends are here? The honest answer is, I really don’t know! After returning home in mid-November after spending a year in Australia, I quickly returned to my previous occupation in Toronto working as an Industrial-Commercial carpenter. Within a few days of returning to work (or possibly even a few minutes) I promptly remembered why I left for Australia in the first place; I hated my job and wanted to do something different! Now there’s nothing wrong with construction, in fact it is a very, very lucrative career depending on who you work for, but at the end of the day after five years of doing it I actually dreaded going to work. It was a career I fell into as a 21 year-old through a friend and subsequently became a job that was hard to leave as the money was good. Due to my not following up on my college education, I was left with very little other career options that paid well, with male prostitution clearly out of the picture as my balls were starting to sag. On top of my lack of job love, I was also newly single, coming out of a three year relationship and suddenly found myself with a lot of time to think about ME and what I wanted to do (selfish, I know). Add to all of this that I really had no possessions anymore as I had sold or got rid of most of them before I went to Australia and you have yourself a man with very little ties outside of his family and friends.
After deciding that a “life change” was needed, I started browsing internet job sites to see what was out there for a useless twat like me. Almost immediately I started looking at a few jobs in the restaurant-service industry, as that is the other area outside of construction where I have worked fairly extensively since I was a teenager. After visiting a few websites and looking at a ton of jobs both in the Toronto area and abroad, I decided that a move was definitely in order if I could make it happen. I thought long and hard about applying to a few upscale restaurants in the Caribbean that were hiring, but for some reason I kept going back to this job posting for the position of “Server” at a restaurant located in some place I had never heard of called Inuvik. After doing some quick research on the internet, I soon discovered that Inuvik was about as far north as you can go in Canada and still have some semblance of civilization and modern life. For some reason (still unknown to me) I thought this sounded like a fantastic opportunity to not only visit, but get to fully experience a place on earth, and in my own country, that very few people ever get to. So, with these visions of grandeur in my eyes, I sent off my one and only resume with the hopes of hearing back; preferably from a man who lived in an igloo and wore a seal skin coat.
Within a few days of sending off my resume for the position of server at a restaurant in Inuvik, Northwest Territories, I received an email from the boss, Joe, stating that he was interested in hiring me. After a few emails back and forth, mostly consisting of me asking ridiculous questions about living in the Arctic we arranged for a phone interview. The phone interview went according to plan for me, and I was offered a job after a lengthy conversation. Joe told me to think about it for a few days, but I already knew that I was going to go, as I was on the brink of suicide at my other job (3+ hours a day of commuting in GTA traffic will do this to a man). During our conversations and emails, Joe explained to me that I would be making $12/hour in addition to tips and would be subsidized half of my $1000 rent, meaning that for $500/month I would get my own fully furnished apartment in the building right next to the restaurant. This also meant that I wouldn’t need a car, which was a big bonus, as I am no longer a big fan of spending all my cash on automobiles. Also, I was told that on days when I was working, I would be entitled to free meals at the restaurant which would go a long way towards keeping the grocery bill to a minimum. Lastly, I was told that for every year you work, you are entitled to one free round trip flight (just pay the taxes) anywhere you want to go in the world, as the boss amasses a ton of Aeroplan Miles through the business and uses them to give his employees these flights. I immediately informed Joe that I would need to have some vacation time in April, as one of my best friends was getting married back home and he said that would be no problem. With the last of the small kinks sorted out and most of my questions answered, I saddled up for my last few weeks of construction work that would take me through to New Year’s Eve and started counting the days. Thankfully, before I left for the balmy -40°C winter temperatures of Inuvik on January 12th, my family went on a Caribbean cruise at the start of the New Year that served as a final farewell before Brent Moreau descended into what would probably be a cold, dark winter above the Arctic Circle.
When the morning of my flight finally rolled around, I gathered up the last of my belongings and had my Mommy take me to the airport. I had learned a day prior that the airline I would be travelling on from Whitehorse to Inuvik only allowed their passengers 44 pounds of luggage. This is a far cry from what most major airlines allow you to travel with (100 pounds), and does not lend itself well to people like myself who are moving or relocating. After some careful consideration (I decided I did not need to pack my solid lead balls and novelty cocaine bricks) I managed to get my luggage down to seventy-odd pounds and felt I could not go any lower. I knew I would be hit with a luggage surcharge, but the fact is a brother needs his clothes! With that in mind, I said so long to my mom and boarded the first of my three flights around 4:00pm, this one bound for Vancouver. After arriving in Vancouver, I had a layover for a few hours before my short flight up to Whitehorse, the capital city of the Yukon. I tried to sleep for a bit in the airport, but when this failed I decided to partake in my second favourite activity, eating cheeseburgers and drinking beers. Finally around 11:00pm local time (2:00am Toronto time), I boarded a 50-seater plane and headed further north than I had ever been in my life! We arrived with little fanfare as the last flight of the night coming into the small Whitehorse airport, and I had planned to just sleep in the airport, as my Air North flight to Inuvik was departing first thing in the morning. After everyone had collected their luggage and loaded into their cars and taxis, I was informed by the sole airport employee that they would be closing up for the night. At this point I started to have a slight internal panic attack, as I had no fuckin’ idea what to do and all other forms of human life were now long gone. Here I was in the Whitehorse airport at 2:00am with nowhere to go and my plans of crashing there for a few hours now foiled. The gentleman working not-so kindly informed me that there were two hotels about 800 metres away, and seeing as how I wasn’t exactly in south Florida, sleeping outside the terminal was not a wise option. Next thing I knew, there I was in all my glory, lugging almost 80 pounds of luggage down the road in the middle of the night to some overpriced hotel that I would only be staying in for a few hours. Oh, and did I mention that it was -35°C outside!? I ended up having to pay $120 for a hotel room that I spent a total of less than five hours in, and they didn’t even throw in a complimentary hooker service or even a continental breakfast! My first taste of “northern inflation” as I like to call it.
The next morning, I was up bright and early; although this time I was able to get a free shuttle to the airport and not have to worry about trudging through the cold with my luggage. After checking in and paying for my excess baggage, it was time to load the plane. I was not really sure what to expect, although it was safe to assume I wasn’t expecting a plane with personal entertainment units and flight attendants in revealing skirts. Low and behold, Air North apparently has the oldest fleet of turbo-prop planes still out there. The plane had space for about 25 people and came complete with interior wood paneling, ash trays, and the smallest seats you have ever seen. I’ve been on some pretty dodgy aircraft in my life, but this was definitely near the top of the list. The flight to Inuvik was a few hours, although we first had to stop off in Dawson City, Yukon, which at one point used to be one of Canada’s largest boom cities during the Klondike gold rush in the late 1800s. Now, Dawson City is a small town of just over a thousand people, but has established itself as a major tourist destination in the summer months, with over 60,000 people visiting it every year. Hell, the place even has a casino! Well the town may be booming in the summer months, the same cannot be said for its airport in the winter, which was the size of a large bedroom. It was official; I had arrived in the north. I’m not sure when it hit me first, when I was standing in the “airport” that was little more than a derelict log cabin or when I was sitting on the runway in Dawson City on a plane with no heat on and temperatures approaching -40°C. Despite both of those making convincing cases for my true arrival, I think it was upon departure from Dawson City, when I was on the plane with only six other people, consisting of a lady who worked with a dog sledding company and a family of five people who were travelling on to an even more remote Native community. Yes, I had arrived in the Arctic!
After taking in some spectacular scenery from the plane on the descent into the airport in Inuvik, I had feelings of both nervousness and curiousness going through my tiny brain. I had never been further north than Edmonton before and aside from a bit of internet research had no idea what to expect, as nobody I personally knew had ever lived in such a place. With that in mind, I stepped off the plane and headed out into the great unknown…
The first and most obvious question that people have asked me over the last couple of months is why move to one of the coldest and darkest places in the world when you have a perfectly good job at home in the Greater Toronto Area, and all your family and friends are here? The honest answer is, I really don’t know! After returning home in mid-November after spending a year in Australia, I quickly returned to my previous occupation in Toronto working as an Industrial-Commercial carpenter. Within a few days of returning to work (or possibly even a few minutes) I promptly remembered why I left for Australia in the first place; I hated my job and wanted to do something different! Now there’s nothing wrong with construction, in fact it is a very, very lucrative career depending on who you work for, but at the end of the day after five years of doing it I actually dreaded going to work. It was a career I fell into as a 21 year-old through a friend and subsequently became a job that was hard to leave as the money was good. Due to my not following up on my college education, I was left with very little other career options that paid well, with male prostitution clearly out of the picture as my balls were starting to sag. On top of my lack of job love, I was also newly single, coming out of a three year relationship and suddenly found myself with a lot of time to think about ME and what I wanted to do (selfish, I know). Add to all of this that I really had no possessions anymore as I had sold or got rid of most of them before I went to Australia and you have yourself a man with very little ties outside of his family and friends.
After deciding that a “life change” was needed, I started browsing internet job sites to see what was out there for a useless twat like me. Almost immediately I started looking at a few jobs in the restaurant-service industry, as that is the other area outside of construction where I have worked fairly extensively since I was a teenager. After visiting a few websites and looking at a ton of jobs both in the Toronto area and abroad, I decided that a move was definitely in order if I could make it happen. I thought long and hard about applying to a few upscale restaurants in the Caribbean that were hiring, but for some reason I kept going back to this job posting for the position of “Server” at a restaurant located in some place I had never heard of called Inuvik. After doing some quick research on the internet, I soon discovered that Inuvik was about as far north as you can go in Canada and still have some semblance of civilization and modern life. For some reason (still unknown to me) I thought this sounded like a fantastic opportunity to not only visit, but get to fully experience a place on earth, and in my own country, that very few people ever get to. So, with these visions of grandeur in my eyes, I sent off my one and only resume with the hopes of hearing back; preferably from a man who lived in an igloo and wore a seal skin coat.
Within a few days of sending off my resume for the position of server at a restaurant in Inuvik, Northwest Territories, I received an email from the boss, Joe, stating that he was interested in hiring me. After a few emails back and forth, mostly consisting of me asking ridiculous questions about living in the Arctic we arranged for a phone interview. The phone interview went according to plan for me, and I was offered a job after a lengthy conversation. Joe told me to think about it for a few days, but I already knew that I was going to go, as I was on the brink of suicide at my other job (3+ hours a day of commuting in GTA traffic will do this to a man). During our conversations and emails, Joe explained to me that I would be making $12/hour in addition to tips and would be subsidized half of my $1000 rent, meaning that for $500/month I would get my own fully furnished apartment in the building right next to the restaurant. This also meant that I wouldn’t need a car, which was a big bonus, as I am no longer a big fan of spending all my cash on automobiles. Also, I was told that on days when I was working, I would be entitled to free meals at the restaurant which would go a long way towards keeping the grocery bill to a minimum. Lastly, I was told that for every year you work, you are entitled to one free round trip flight (just pay the taxes) anywhere you want to go in the world, as the boss amasses a ton of Aeroplan Miles through the business and uses them to give his employees these flights. I immediately informed Joe that I would need to have some vacation time in April, as one of my best friends was getting married back home and he said that would be no problem. With the last of the small kinks sorted out and most of my questions answered, I saddled up for my last few weeks of construction work that would take me through to New Year’s Eve and started counting the days. Thankfully, before I left for the balmy -40°C winter temperatures of Inuvik on January 12th, my family went on a Caribbean cruise at the start of the New Year that served as a final farewell before Brent Moreau descended into what would probably be a cold, dark winter above the Arctic Circle.
When the morning of my flight finally rolled around, I gathered up the last of my belongings and had my Mommy take me to the airport. I had learned a day prior that the airline I would be travelling on from Whitehorse to Inuvik only allowed their passengers 44 pounds of luggage. This is a far cry from what most major airlines allow you to travel with (100 pounds), and does not lend itself well to people like myself who are moving or relocating. After some careful consideration (I decided I did not need to pack my solid lead balls and novelty cocaine bricks) I managed to get my luggage down to seventy-odd pounds and felt I could not go any lower. I knew I would be hit with a luggage surcharge, but the fact is a brother needs his clothes! With that in mind, I said so long to my mom and boarded the first of my three flights around 4:00pm, this one bound for Vancouver. After arriving in Vancouver, I had a layover for a few hours before my short flight up to Whitehorse, the capital city of the Yukon. I tried to sleep for a bit in the airport, but when this failed I decided to partake in my second favourite activity, eating cheeseburgers and drinking beers. Finally around 11:00pm local time (2:00am Toronto time), I boarded a 50-seater plane and headed further north than I had ever been in my life! We arrived with little fanfare as the last flight of the night coming into the small Whitehorse airport, and I had planned to just sleep in the airport, as my Air North flight to Inuvik was departing first thing in the morning. After everyone had collected their luggage and loaded into their cars and taxis, I was informed by the sole airport employee that they would be closing up for the night. At this point I started to have a slight internal panic attack, as I had no fuckin’ idea what to do and all other forms of human life were now long gone. Here I was in the Whitehorse airport at 2:00am with nowhere to go and my plans of crashing there for a few hours now foiled. The gentleman working not-so kindly informed me that there were two hotels about 800 metres away, and seeing as how I wasn’t exactly in south Florida, sleeping outside the terminal was not a wise option. Next thing I knew, there I was in all my glory, lugging almost 80 pounds of luggage down the road in the middle of the night to some overpriced hotel that I would only be staying in for a few hours. Oh, and did I mention that it was -35°C outside!? I ended up having to pay $120 for a hotel room that I spent a total of less than five hours in, and they didn’t even throw in a complimentary hooker service or even a continental breakfast! My first taste of “northern inflation” as I like to call it.
The next morning, I was up bright and early; although this time I was able to get a free shuttle to the airport and not have to worry about trudging through the cold with my luggage. After checking in and paying for my excess baggage, it was time to load the plane. I was not really sure what to expect, although it was safe to assume I wasn’t expecting a plane with personal entertainment units and flight attendants in revealing skirts. Low and behold, Air North apparently has the oldest fleet of turbo-prop planes still out there. The plane had space for about 25 people and came complete with interior wood paneling, ash trays, and the smallest seats you have ever seen. I’ve been on some pretty dodgy aircraft in my life, but this was definitely near the top of the list. The flight to Inuvik was a few hours, although we first had to stop off in Dawson City, Yukon, which at one point used to be one of Canada’s largest boom cities during the Klondike gold rush in the late 1800s. Now, Dawson City is a small town of just over a thousand people, but has established itself as a major tourist destination in the summer months, with over 60,000 people visiting it every year. Hell, the place even has a casino! Well the town may be booming in the summer months, the same cannot be said for its airport in the winter, which was the size of a large bedroom. It was official; I had arrived in the north. I’m not sure when it hit me first, when I was standing in the “airport” that was little more than a derelict log cabin or when I was sitting on the runway in Dawson City on a plane with no heat on and temperatures approaching -40°C. Despite both of those making convincing cases for my true arrival, I think it was upon departure from Dawson City, when I was on the plane with only six other people, consisting of a lady who worked with a dog sledding company and a family of five people who were travelling on to an even more remote Native community. Yes, I had arrived in the Arctic!
After taking in some spectacular scenery from the plane on the descent into the airport in Inuvik, I had feelings of both nervousness and curiousness going through my tiny brain. I had never been further north than Edmonton before and aside from a bit of internet research had no idea what to expect, as nobody I personally knew had ever lived in such a place. With that in mind, I stepped off the plane and headed out into the great unknown…
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