Dragon Tattoo a la Hollywood

I had a bit of a grand debate with myself yesterday whether or not to go downstairs and watch The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo at Astro Theater. After all, this is one of my all time favorite books ever and I wasn't too keen on witnessing how it would get desecrated Hollywood style. A movie is a medium totally different from a book no matter how you look at it. I mean if I say that the movie tried to be true to the book (it wasn't really)  that may not mean a good thing. Like Steig Larsson effectively managed to weave a story that makes you struggle with the first how many chapters in a slow, dragging uphill climb and then suddenly  you find yourself being pushed at the edge of the peak and you roll full speed you don't even know what hit you. It's true that pictures can paint a thousand words but there are times when only words can define, paint and create a story that you can't quite capture in (moving) pictures. That's why I love movies and I love books but as two separate media..I have never been a big fan of seeing a beloved book being made into film. And that's why I had a lot of misgivings about watching Dragon Tattoo. But last night I was still recovering from my holiday binge and I was happily being a bum, browsing through the year end special issue of People Magazine and I chanced upon some positive reviews on Rooney Mara's (as Lisbeth Salander) acting and I took that as a sign that I should go downstairs and watch the movie. If anything, it would only mean a $12 and 2h40min worth of regret and I talked myself into believing that I am after the entertainment value and I should not even attempt to make any comparison to the book. So 20 minutes before screening time I managed to drag myself out of the apartment, bought a ticket and consoled my anti film version other self with a large bag of popcorn and pepperoni stick.


First of all, Mr. Larsson, in all three books he wrote before his too untimely demise, never aimed to entertain but he seemed to be more concerned about making sure you are uncomfortably shifting in your seats and feeling disturbed while reading about the series of unfortunate events that befell the hapless, unlikely, atypical heroine that is Lisbeth Salander before finally providing a sense of vindication at the very few last pages of the last book. Which is a little too late for some of us who have already been consumed by all the darkness, injustice, perversion and what nots of the first two books and at least 90% of the last one. And with the way he tried to paint a picture of corruption and evil in a seemingly perfect Swedish system, your now paranoid self would even go as far as thinking maybe Larsson didn't die of a heart attack, maybe there was some foul play there since he was ruffling a few political feathers. That's why I came to love his The Girl..Trilogy, it sucks you like a whirlpool into it's pages, no matter how the first how many chapter drags, it moves you, it disturbs you and in the end it's one of those rare books that makes you want to do a standing ovation and cheer. And I think it was mainly due to how Steig Larsson chose how and when to slowly build characters, plots and background, when to suddenly go for the kill. To capture all these in film would be such a tall, tall order so as expected, the movie version failed in this aspect. To their credit though, the producers seem to respect the fact  that the author didn't really aim to entertain so they also tried to tone down on the drama, shock value, cliche or other Hollywood-ish formula and even managed to succeed in creating a dark, somber, disturbing mood.


The casting was perfect. And I am especially referring to Rooney Mara. If anything, she did give justice to the role although at times she's doing it too perfectly that you can feel her all too conscious effort to "be like" Lisbeth as opposed to "being" Lisbeth. I don't know how to explain this one but sometimes it felt like watching a two hours or so character interpretation monologue rather than watching a movie. But she's the perfect Lisbeth, I can't think of anybody else who can pull that one off. Thank God they didn't get Lindsay Lohan or Kristen Stewart. The rest of the cast were good too except that it's Hollywood so it's like one grand musical chair or recycling event so at some point I was half expecting Christopher Plummer to burst into song and sing "I go to the hills when my heart is lonely" or for Robin Wright to scream, "run Forrest run"! or yes for Daniel Craig to reveal that he is actually "Bond. James Bond".


It's hard to reconcile the book in two hours something worth of film so of course it can't entirely remain faithful to the print version, that's forgivable and expected - especially if you promised yourself not to judge the movie by it's book version. I just wished more emphasis was placed on demonstrating Lisbeth's genius methods for hacking computers (the way it was described in the book) because it was really a fun part of the story that I thought Hollywood would have wanted to magnify. And of course you really have to read the book so that you won't assume that the movie was just an excuse to advertise Apple and McDonald products. Unlike in Filipino movies, out of nowhere the leading man would have a headache and a well meaning supporting character will give him a certain brand of acetamenophen and proclaim it to be most effective for headache. Of course everybody in the audience know that the leading man is in real life an endorser for this brand of drug. How and why they resort to that kind of lame advertising psychology never fails to baffle me and annoys me like anything. Anyway, back to the Dragon Tattoo. I didn't like their version of how the Harriet thing was finally resolved but since I didn't provide a spoiler alert at the beginning of this post, that's all I can say about that one. Though I don't think the one or two faithful readers of my blog would mind (referring to mother and a friend I love to harass to read or else). I also thought it was weird watching Michael Blomkvist (Craig) being tortured to the ironically benign, light and breezy tune of Enya's Orinico Flow. I don't think I can listen to that song in the same way again! I don't remember that happening in the book though, maybe I should read it again. Or that part at least. And just in case there are Steig Larsson fans who happen to stumble into this post, go ahead and watch the movie but with no great expectations.

Hot Soup

I know I know. Post Christmas is the worst time to even mention food. Not while everybody's nursing a bad hang over or trying to get rid of the ham, turkey, fruitcake or other holiday foot aftertaste from their mouth. But I will talk about food nevertheless. I promise though that this is about the perfect antidote to all the fatty or sweet stuff we've been pigging out on for the last  couple of days.


So I wanted to eat something today that would neutralize the holiday fats, sugar, sauce/gravy, salt accumulation in my system. And I thought about making sinigang again..inspired by my successful first attempt a few days ago. Sinigang is a popular Filipino sour soup (usually tamarind based) and pretty much the same way you can adobo anything, you can also sinigang anything! Today I decided to go for salmon because I am out of chicken and pork and I am too lazy to go to the grocery store. To hear me talk or write about this you'd think I invented the sinigang! Actually I am just feeling a little smug about finally being initiated into the art of Filipino cooking. At 39 at that! When everybody else learned this from their mothers, grandmothers etc from when they were as young as 7! And of course I have to go the extreme end of the pole for this to finally happen! Anyway, let's go back to my to die for salmon sinigang.


I have all my support groups online to help motivate me or teach me how to cook so I turn to them like a drowning person clings to a lifesaver. For my sinigang today I decided to ambush my sister in law in Sweden..as soon as I saw her online (after she clicked "like" to one of my posts) I called her via Face Time and bombarded her with questions that would have evoked a lot of eyeball rolling and litany of "are-you-kidding-me" from other people who aren't family .. but my sister in law, God bless her, answered with a lot of enthusiasm and excitement that motivated me to make my perfect Salmon sinigang. So I took all her tips and instructions to heart and planned on a little "modification".


A backgrounder on the "modification". People who know me well know that I am notorious for having a very, very high tolerance for hot and spicy. My preference for hot(ter) and spicy(-ier) is not something I am particularly proud of since I have seen how it can either elicit some unwanted innuendos or cause people to ask really, really personal questions like if I have hemorrhoids already from eating all these spicy food..and I can really get defensive by enumerating all the medical benefits of eating hot and spicy. So again for my sinigang today, I planned to really make it hot..after all I am cooking just for one so I don't have to worry about taking anybody's hot and spicy meter into consideration. 


I am not the ultimate chef (yet) so my supply for ingredients are limited to stuff I can actually identify and spell but I do have different kinds of pepper and chili in my limited supply because I categorize them under food basics - so I have cayenne, crushed chili, chili powder, cayenne pepper sauce, long green chilis, jalapeno etc and the usual pepper (black, peppercorn). I used to swear by Tabasco and would add tabasco on anything but now it tastes like water to me. Not hot enough. And then a couple of days ago I was introduced to the ultimate form of chili powder that made everything else look and taste like placebo. I attended the first of two Christmas eve dinners I was invited to. This was at my neighbor downstairs. Turned out they were also hardcore hot and spicy fans. My neighbor is a Filipina living with her Canadian boyfriend and the Canadian boyfriend made this amazingly delicious, hot and spicy (my level of hot and spicy so it's actually deadly for everyone else) pork sisig (a favorite Filipino beer match). It was hands down one of the best sisig I've ever had! I guess they were watching me devour the sisig without even pausing to wipe a tear or soak my tongue with whatever I was drinking - so this was proof enough for them to believe me when I say I love hot and spicy and I am not just saying it to please my host! It was like passing a sort of test I guess. So my prize for that night was that they gave me a bottle of something called Bhut Jolokia Powder 100% pure and they said it is the hottest chili ever and made me sprinkle a little on my fingers so I can taste how hot it is..they were amused when I had to sprinkle twice before I can agree that well, it's hot. But then I drank two glasses of wine before that so it might have masked how hot the powder really was because I woke up the next morning with the tiniest hint of mouth sore right were the powder landed.


And that's the little backgrounder to my sinigang..I grabbed several long green chilis and sprinkled a hint of the Bhut Jolokia powder  and added these  with the sinigang mix, lime juice, tomatoes, onions, radish, greens that I used for the salmon sinigang.

While waiting for my sinigang to cook I googled on Bhut Jolokia powder and this is what I discovered:


The Bhut Jolokia, or Ghost Chile, so named for its ghostly bite, is the hottest chile pepper in the world. Also known as the Naga Jolokia and Bih Jolokia, or poison chile pepper. The Bhut Jolokia is twice as hot as the Red Savina Habanero and has a slightly smoky flavor. Imported from India.


                                                                                  - Firehouse Pantry Store

Well that was more than enough to "fire" up my excitement for the soup I was making and I was pleased beyond anything that I now have in my possession the hottest chili pepper in the world! My neighbor told me that this was more potent than pepper spray and I realized that's no exaggeration! So that means I can use it for self defense as well, in case there's a break in or something. 


The verdict? I was in food heaven with my comfort soup. I love how it warms the heart and satisfy my chili-specific taste buds. I am glad I added more than the usual amount of lime juice because the sourness of the soup was in perfect harmony with the hotness of the chili and the mildness of the salmon. Of course I might sound like I am bringing my smugness to a higher level by singing praises to my own creation but I am happy with my sinigang. And happier because I am now armed with this bhut jolokia powder!

A breather and time out from 1Q84

I read for different reasons. Sometimes it's because I want to unwind and escape from either a too sad or too drab reality. Sometimes it's to stimulate my senses by watching how words are joined together like patchwork quilts to create a picture, an image, a thought. Sometimes it's merely just to lull myself to sleep. Once in awhile, however, I would chance upon a book that transports me to another reality that's more unsettling and disconcerting than the one I am already in, that while it stimulates my senses - the effect is not that of a happy or fluffy feeling one gets from gazing at a patchwork quilt and it hardly puts me to sleep..and if it does, I'd end up having disturbing dreams. 1Q84 is that kind of book.


I may be one of the last few people in the planet to hear about Haruki Murakami and now I am beginning to understand why he has an almost cult-like following. If anything, I am this close to becoming a convert. I am still halfway through reading the book and one of the reviews did warn that it is a long 900++ pages novel. But it's one of those long novels that pulls me in two different directions. A part of me is dying to know how the story would end and yet there is this other part that, for the last few days, has become accustomed to the hypnotic, seductive, mesmerizing power of the book - like a drug with psychedelic or hallucinogenic  effect...that I don't want the book to end at all..if only to maintain that strange high. Rarely a book has the power to suck me into it's pages that I am actually given the idea of how it must feel to cross a parallel dimension or a very e=mc2-ish sort of alternate reality..especially since I now live in an out of  this world environment up north..in between reading the book, when I find myself gazing out of the window, I half expect to find two moons like the ones mentioned in the story. While I did say it is a mesmerizing read, I can't seem to finish the book soon enough. Sometimes when I am in a chapter or in a scene that is much too intense, I will myself to stop reading and start doing some mundane things that can remind me where my reality begins and 1Q84 ends - so I would wash the dishes, visit Facebook, write emails, feed myself..and with my reality well defined, I shut myself off from everything else and open my iPad's ebook app and start reading again.


I want to talk about intensity because I did say something about some chapters getting too intense. I've always felt that I am a person least qualified to give any form of book reviews. I have no technical know hows on form, style or writing technique. It's either I like a book or I don't but I don't feel the need to explain why..simply because I am not in the position to provide credible critique. This time, however, I will make a feeble attempt to discuss this particular book if only to detoxify and decongest my mind and spirit from it's overwhelming effect on me before I immerse myself further into reading and ultimately finishing it. Murakami is a Japanese author and the English translation of 1Q84 was released late this year. I am not an expert in Japanese culture or psychology but I've always found the Japanese to have this certain restraint and discipline on the surface that effectively masks whatever turbulence that lies beneath. In whatever structure (food, buildings, technology, words), they seem to have a penchant for projecting minimalism even if in that minimalist form there is actually a certain, unexpected heaviness. When I find it hard to explain something sometimes I tend to use too many words. It's hard to start on this premise because it's not easy to explain. But then as Murakami wrote, "if you can't understand without explanation then you won't understand with explanation"... so I am hoping that anyone who has ever watched a Japanese movie or attempted to dissect a haiku or even appreciated the elaborate simplicity of Japanese food would know where I am coming from. The mesmerizing power of 1Q84 does not come from any fast paced action, dramatic dialogues or colorful plots that's all too commonly seen in books written by Western authors. It's the quiet restraint of everything in the story - choice of words, pacing, characters' personalities that gives the readers the feeling that there is something ominous about the calmness and the stillness, something disturbing about the paucity of emotions from the characters (including a female lead who is incapable of using question marks!). To capture one's attention, you either create a lot of noise or in a quiet stillness you hold one's gaze and hypnotize. The book does the latter. And so far, speaking for myself, it has been very, very effective. For those who agree that Japanese or Korean horror movies although not as graphic and loud as their American counterparts are downright scarier, you would know what I mean.


These days, before I would buy a book or e-book, I tend to read the reviews first. This is mainly for my own economic and logistics justification. Interesting enough, those who were disappointed with this book happen to be hardcore Murakami fans. Most of them declared that his previous works were much better, 1Q84 just received more hype and attention based on the merits of the author's past efforts. As a novice, this didn't stop me from choosing 1Q84 as my initiation to the world and mind of Murakami. And I have no regrets. I have not finished the book yet but I have already downloaded two of his past works, the highly acclaimed Wind Up Bird Chronicle and at the risk of being accused of judging a book by it's cover or title, I also downloaded Norwegian Wood - mainly because it is the title of my favorite Beatles song (from where I got the name of this blog. Serendipity, eh?). Suffice it to say that it is totally inaccurate for me to declare that I am this close to becoming a convert of his cult-ish following, I believe I already am!


Having gotten that out of my chest, I will end this post and cross that parallel dimension that will take me back to 1Q84.

Steak

I am a happy carnivore. While I have deep respect for all forms of life, I also happen to know where I rank in the food chain. And I definitely relish my spot at the top. I realize the value of greens in a healthy diet and while I ingest these edible plants to sustain my needs at a cellular level, vegetables do not give me the same intense sense of satisfaction and gratification that I get from meat. When I was having one of my seasonal quest for losing unwanted pounds early this year, I was thrilled beyond anything when a new, popular diet endorsed by no less than a duchess' mother, called for unlimited consumption of most proteins - specifically beef, chicken and fish..and I wholeheartedly embraced this diet not just because it promised weight loss but more because it allowed me to eat meat. 


One of the many things that I appreciate about living in an arctic region is that this is a place where one of man's oldest instincts - hunting for survival is preserved. And when a hunter hunts his prey it's not to live out a violent game or killing for thrill. It's meant for the survival of a specie. Ours. A few months ago, I read a novel partly set somewhere in Alaska and there was a part that dealt a little bit about seal hunting..that seals know their purpose is to be hunted, killed and ultimately be fed to humans but it was a process that was done with great respect from the part of the humans that part of the ritual of killing seals is to get their bladder and throw it to the ocean to symbolize the release of their souls. I am not sure if I am retelling that accurately but my point is, with that kind of perspective on hunting for survival and eating meat, the arctic then is one of the best places to be a carnivore.


Today is Sunday. I was planning that after hearing mass I would take a leisurely walk and head off to the restaurant at Nova Inn because I heard that food was good there..and there where some items in the menu that I wanted to try like whale blubber and caribou salad. And after eating I was also planning to do more walking and go to Northmart to buy groceries. It was a little bit windy when I stepped out of the chapel and it made me rethink if walking would be a good idea. Fortunately, one of the Filipinos in church was also going to Northmart and offered me a ride. So I decided to put my plans for going to Nova on hold for now and just went straight to Northmart. This turned out to be a good move since I found out that they actually sell beef, chicken and fish there that does not necessarily move my wallet to tears.


And that's how I came to decide that today I was going to make steak. My friend in the US sent me some seasoning called Vegeta and she said it's a good sprinkle to add to steak rub. Since I got here I have used this Vegeta on most anything I make..from omelette to baked chicken but I have been dying to use it for steak using the recipe and technique that my friend's husband taught me. Until today, I have been buying groceries at Arctic Ventures and supply for meat, chicken and fish was limited and expensive. Happily, this was not the case at Northmart so I got to buy my (hopefully) one week's supply of chicken, fish (salmon) and of course beef I can use for making steak.


I was shaking with excitement when I got home and got all my ingredients ready. I didn't want any tinge of guilt cloud my ascent to meat heaven so for side dish I decided to saute some vegetables that I actually like (asparagus and mushroom) and I promised myself I will only have oatmeal for dinner. Now I am the kind of person who's got very selective retention for information and instruction. If it's something I am not interested in, no matter how important or crucial it is for me to retain the information - chances are I would forget. But if it's something I am passionate about no matter how trivial or unnecessary the data, I would store and super glue it to memory. So when I was visiting my friend a few months ago and her husband (who makes the best steak ever) gave me some pointers on how to make delicious steak, I had his instructions etched on my brain and it's now permanently tattooed there somewhere in my cerebral cortex. I watched and remembered how he did it, it's now a movie I can replay in my mind at will for future reference. And the bonus of course was that my friend was kind enough to send me that miracle seasoning that her husband uses for his steak.


Save for that few minutes when the smoke detector alarm went into frenzy, my first attempt at making steak here in Iqaluit is, I should say with all honesty and modesty, a hands down success! I followed all the dos and don'ts my friend's husband taught me..how long to cook it if I like it medium (and I like it medium, never ever over done - part of the thrill in eating steak for me is sucking the juice out from the tender meat), to never poke it with a fork or anything sharp just to check if it's done and to let it stand for a few minutes before slicing to trap the heat and juice and allow it to go towards the core of the meat - - I took all the minute details to heart and for that I was rewarded with a delicious, juicy, tender, melt in your mouth home cooked steak! Yes indeed, I am a happy carnivore!


Even if I wanted to devour it right away like a hungry hunter, I had to remind myself to let it stand for a few minutes. Patience is a virtue and I got my just reward!

Of course I made some effort to create balance, thus the mushroom and asparagus.

Unhappy Feet. Immortal Fail.

I was planning to watch Happy Feet 2 last night and ended up getting a little bit dismayed that the screening time was at 7PM and they were showing J Edgar and Immortals at 9PM. If I paid any attention at all I would have realized that the one and only movie house here have two theaters and two screening times (7 and 9) and there may be two different movies for each screening time. But this is what I get for assuming that I got it all figured out. After all the effort of getting dressed and going downstairs, I decided to watch a movie anyway. I didn't want to watch anything too heavy or serious or that would require my brain to be turned on.  So I chose to watch Immortals. Now there are very few things in life that I ever regret doing and watching Immortals just found its way to that very short elite list. 


First of all, I am not a huge fan of unnecessary gore and violence in cinema and this movie was just 110 minutes worth of butchering and slaughtering spree. It made Chainsaw Massacre, Friday the 13th and that C-section scene from Breaking Dawn look like Disney movies. It started promising enough with a Socrates quote and I thought since it has something to do with Greek mythology there would be some well founded plot. I waited for 109 minutes and found none. So I just sat there and watched tongues being cut off, human flesh, muscles and bones turned to ground meat, necks being slit, beheading galore and hope that somehow a justifiable story would surface from all the bloodshed. And I had to watch all these in unnecessary 3D. Before anybody can accuse me of being a queasy kill joy or prudish bore, let it be known that I enjoyed watching Drag Me To Hell and Inglorious Basterds.


At some point when I thought I have already become immune to all the graphic, computer generated gore and stopped flinching from the sight of blood, muscles and heads flying all over the place, I started to feel nauseous, with an intense desire to gag and grab a barf bag . . even if it means grabbing a bag of popcorn from somebody in the audience (good thing I didn't waste any money on popcorn last night). But this time it wasn't because of the macabre violence of the film but more on how the story was developing, the dialogues that can make your eyeballs roll with such intensity it can induce seizures and the way the actors take extra effort to act like the Greek statues featured in the movie (read: cold and lifeless). Well, Mickey Rourke, who played the overacting evil King Hyperion, did overcompensate for all (and I mean all) his co actors' lackluster performances. I think it was only when some character gets killed and blood is spilled that you realize that wow there was life there after all (but then it's too late)..Every time Henry Cavill (Theseus) was on screen I found myself saying, please don't let him be Superman. But unfortunately, he is going to play the part of the beloved super hero. Thus giving a whole new meaning to "man of steel". Half of the time I cannot understand a word he was saying but it was not really a big deal because most of the dialogues do not really have any relevance to the unfolding of the story. So he was like, mumble, mumble, kill, kill, blood and more blood. I almost reached my seizure threshold when prior to the big battle scene,Theseus delivered that highly formulaic pre battle Brave Heart inspired speech in front of an army who don't even know who in Zeus name he was. When he was shouting to the men to listen to him, one of the soldiers shouted back, "who are you that we should listen to you"? Which was actually a good and valid question. Anyway, he was able to calm this panicky, chaotic army by telling them to "think of their children, think of their future" and all other recycled words of motivation every leader of the army delivered to their men prior to every battle scene in all battle movies (where was the army leader anyway?) when there was never any indication in any part of the film that this was an army of daddies going to war for the sake of their kids and some unforeseen bright future since from beginning to end they just portrayed themselves to be a bunch of blood and meat thirsty men! Unless I did go into a seizure and missed that part. I can't help myself but I actually laughed out loud during this part of the film. And when the king from Theseus' company with a cameo appearance of two minutes told an approaching King Hyperion "We can negotiate" with all the dryness of a beef jerky and the evil Hyperion just kept walking and cut the poor king's head off I had to decide whether to waste my energy on a chuckle or roll my eyeballs or just sit still. I sat still. The film was approaching climax so maybe the worst was yet to come.


Even Thesius' finding of the highly coveted Epirus Bow did nothing to help the film take a turn of any relevance or significance. In fact he keeps dropping or misplacing the bow! I would have found it hilarious if I wasn't so annoyed. Ok so that bit of klutziness was necessary so that the bow can land in Hyperion's hands so he can free the Titans. But still. Anyway, there were a few dialogues here and there inserted in between all the killings, butchering and blood fest so maybe there was really a story unfolding somewhere. In the spirit of fairness, nobody was spared from getting their hands bloodied and their jugular veins dissected, even the supposedly immortal gods. Jupiter was killed by daddy Zeus (again unnecessarily) and Athena ended up with this perfectly vertical slit on her neck you are tempted to insert a tracheostomy tube on it to keep her alive (by life, of course, I am referring to her lifeless acting not to that actual scene where she was dying. To quote a line from another movie, the title of which escapes me now, "how can she die, she didn't even live"). Maybe it's because she was a goddess she was still able to deliver a very clear dying speech (clearer than a very much alive Theseus' monologue) to her grieving father Zeus even if the sword went straight to her vocal cords. To the mothers out there, if your kids tell you they want to see this movie for Greek mythology appreciation, don't let them. This is about as Greek mythology as Dora the Explorer is Latin Literature.


Another annoying and unnecessary part of the film was Freida Pinto's presence (as the virgin oracle). I'm still debating whether to even discuss her role at all. Okay I will. Her vision of Theseus' future was supposedly a crucial aspect of the story but again it did little to string or sew together a plot that was all over the bloody (literally!) place. Well it did serve as an icebreaker so that she and Theseus can make chitchat, let sparks fly and provide a love angle to the story. And speaking of sparks between Theseus and Phaedra (Pinto) . . well actually, there was none. The romance part was so fleeting, irrelevant and devoid of any chemistry that if you so much as blinked you would have missed it and would wonder in the end why all of a sudden this narrator is saying that there's this kid who's the son of Theseus. I think Freida Pinto's character was just inserted in the film to neutralize the testosterone overload with a little estrogenic presence. It didn't help.


My favorite part of the film was when it finally ended. Maybe I am just bitter because I had to watch this instead of Happy Feet but I was not too happy with Immortals. If I was not too disturbed by all that blood and gore I would have laughed at the silly premise of the film. But then again I got what I wanted - nothing serious and no brain required. So I should stop complaining then, eh?

Kitchen Confidential

There are only a few times in my life that I am proud enough to show off the product of my highly deficient culinary skills. And I know that since I got here I have insisted on justifying the merits of instant meals, eating out or take outs as valid methods of arctic survival. But there comes a time when I need to confront the truth that I have to hone some domestic skills in order to get by. And cooking tops the list. I was at Arctic Ventures today, just before sunset (which is just before 2PM) and as I was wandering aimlesssly at the canned goods and instant noodles aisles, I said to myself..enough is enough (though I did get a couple of Campbell's soup) it is time for me to grow up and get domesticated. I can only hope that at 39 it's not too late to have that kind of epiphany. So I headed straight to the fish/meat/poultry and vegetable section..got some stuff that I can recognize and give a name to. My argument is that, if I have this intense passion for food..somewhere deep within me there must be a chef waiting to be born. And even if it's clear that this life development is only in it's embryonic state, I have willed it to be conceived. So that brings me to this moment. Proudly posting a specimen sample of what I can achieve in the kitchen. Even if it is just as simple as throwing fish, spices and vegetables together, wrap them in foil and bake them in the oven. This required some form of critical thinking and took more effort than just opening a packet, pour in boiling water and simmer for 3-5 minutes. It tasted good. I am happy. And proud. I am only glad that no husband or kids are involved or harmed in the unfolding of this life chapter.

Breaking Dawn In Iqaluit

I have not read the book or seen any one of the movies. For some reason, I have a naturally acquired immunity to the Twilight Fever. I am not Team Anything or Somebody. Neither am I a hater. It's not that I am a Twilight snob it's just that I never gave myself the chance to form either a positive or negative reaction to it. But anyway, let it be known, the first movie I got to watch here in Iqaluit is Breaking Dawn. I am not about to discuss the merits (or demerits?) of the film because as a Twilight Ignoramus I don't think I would be a credible enough critic. This is all about the very interesting experience of movie watching a la Iqaluit.

Why I watched (a defensive non Twilight fan's argument)

When a couple of co workers decided to watch the movie and asked if I want to join them, it was hard not to tag along for (I believe) valid reasons: it's my day off and the highlight of my day was doing the laundry so I might as well season it a little bit with something a little more exciting than folding and sorting clothes, the movie theater is located at the ground floor of my apartment so all I really need to do to watch a movie is go downstairs, it is Thursday - so that means cheap night at the movies and the best advice I got before coming up north is to bring an open mind - so that would encompass all experiences including initiation to a pop culture franchise of phenomenal proportion even though, with all apologies, I'm one of the sorry few who don't really know what it's all about..and dive into it at the end part at that (sort of like watching Deathly Hallows without having a clue who Harry Potter is). And I heard the popcorn's good, so technically, that alone is reason enough for me to leave my laundry and watch the movie.

Popcorn and concession stuff

I have been told that prices up here are much, much more expensive than down south so I sort of braced myself for that and have, so far, successfully developed a psychological buffer that minimized the shock factor whenever I pay for groceries, fastfood, etc.. but I am pleased to report that the price of popcorn and other items at the concession stand is actually surprisingly cheap! Anyway, I got a large popcorn and sprinkled it with a generous amount of cheddar powder. To create a sort of balance, I also ordered one large Diet Coke and a pack of Dark M&Ms. And yes, the popcorn was good! 

Audience Profile and other interesting theater goings on

My co workers and I agree that the movie theater here (the only one in Iqaluit) reminds us of the movie theaters of the past. It's small with only two theaters. The lobby's equally small so it was pretty much jam packed with movie watchers waiting for the matinee screening (7PM) to end. And tonight being cheap night with Breaking Dawn as feature film, the place was more crowded than usual. It was a nice blend of Inuit and non Inuit crowd. When the usher announced that those watching Breaking Dawn can come in, my co workers and I went in and sat at the middle row. As soon as the title came up on screen there was a spontaneous chorus of OMGs from the female teens in the audience. Few seconds into the film when Taylor "Jacob" Lautner appeared there was again a spontaneous chorus of wolf whistles, hoots and sighs. Not quite the same reaction noted on Robert "Edward" Pattinson's entrance. I just figured maybe because we are in Canada, in Nunavut at that, there must be more "Team Jacob" delegates in attendance. It almost felt like watching a movie in the Philippines were the audience would make loud side comments during the entire duration of the film. An interesting thing, while the movie was in progress, this old usher guy was going around the theater announcing repeatedly "turn off your cell phones please or else it will be taken away from you". And maybe after the fifth repetition of the "turn off your cellphone" announcement, he just stepped out. One of my coworkers said that it is also common to see dogs running around the theater while the movie's going on. In the Philippines I have seen stray cats and rats inside movie houses but dogs? That I have to see! Well true enough, during that intense scene where Jacob tries to convince the very pregnant and emaciated Bella to give up the baby, the hushed silence inside the theater was disturbed by a very distinctive yapping of a puppy. Later we found out there were actually three dogs in attendance that night! I guess by virtue of their category in the animal kingdom, they must be delegates of Team Jacob as well. 

The movie

I lied. I am actually going to talk about the movie. I did say that I am least qualified to discuss the film but I think it's fair enough to say that I really enjoyed myself. The movie was visually stunning and I am not referring to just Taylor Lautner's physique in particular (guess which team I would be prone to join if given the chance), very good editing and cinematography, very glossy for a film that deals with the dark side and undead, I am thinking about downloading the soundtrack (love it!)but I have to check on my internet usage for the month before I do that (the internet plans here have limited usage per month so I have to be on a strict downloading/uploading/streaming diet), the film was able to effectively build a steady momentum leading to the climax that at some point left me involuntarily holding my breath even if I have no idea what this saga is all about. My co worker was a little bit concerned at first when she asked me if I've read the book or watch the first how many films and I answered no to both and she thought I might not enjoy it because I don't have even the basic background of the film. Of course I know there's this girl, there's this vampire, there's this werewolf and that's it. But I trust Hollywood movie psychology - they aim to entertain and not really to make you think too much. While the actors seem to be more concerned with aesthetics and good camera angles and not necessarily interested in Oscar winning performances, for entertainment value, this film actually delivers - I enjoyed myself and would even watch it even if it was not cheap movie night (oh the wonders that an open mind can do!). I got quite focused on the film I even forgot about my dark M&Ms. Some random takes on the film: I was quite amused with the running exchange of rhetorics between Edward's sisters (?) : "the fetus is not good for Bella" "It's a baby.. it's just a baby". Made me wonder if Stephanie Meyer was making a pro life statement of some sort. Loved the wedding gown, they should have included it in the cast of characters. That song they played during the exchange of vows made my popcorn taste a lot saltier..or was it because there were tears in my eyes? I should download the soundtrack. Some things I wouldn't think of in the same way again - blood transfusion, botched c sections, the importance of calcium in your diet in case you get pregnant with an immortisomething (maybe Breaking Bone would be an apt alternative title), 2 person cpr c/o a werewolf and a vampire. And no matter how comfy, it's not a good idea to use a down feather bed on your honeymoon. I'm such a sucker (no twilight pun intended) for any form of hype so after watching this second to the last installment of the Twilight saga, I'm actually looking forward to the final chapter. Who knows, I might even read the books (I can hear one or two friends moaning a slo mo nooooo!!!). 

I therefore conclude

I like the movie theater downstairs. And even if I don't, I really don't have a choice because it is the only theater in Iqaluit. I would definitely watch a movie there again. On a regular basis, I predict. It's conveniently located (no kidding) and they have good popcorn. Like their non pretentious but satisfying fast food, restaurants etc..there's none of the niceties and theater etiquette you might expect somewhere else but I mean that in a good way because it also defines the small town feel and laid back attitude of the people here so I don't really mind watching a movie with dogs around. I love watching movies. When I was still in the Philippines I would watch one or two movies a week. That changed when I arrived in Calgary because I got caught up with other things like getting a life and make a living but I have always wished I can get to watch more movies again. I guess I can do that again here! Nice! 

Food For Thought

It's a little bit of a challenge sometimes when you are a lazy cook but an enthusiastic eater. And that's one of my biggest problems here (er..for lack of anything major to worry about). Going on week two in Iqaluit and still unapologetic over the fact that my culinary exercise has not extended beyond the complexities of instant soups and tossing coin over sunny side up or hard boiled eggs. You might think that my gushing over the finer points of Iqaluit food is just a thinly disguised excuse for not attempting to cook a decent meal with more than one ingredient. Well, that's just too bad..for here I go gushing again.

For lunch today I decided to go downstairs to buy something for take out at Caribrew. The grilled roast beef sandwich looked good so that's what I had. And it did taste good! The baguette was delicious, there was generous amount of roast beef that was not even thinly sliced and I loved how the monterey jack blended with the tomato. I don't know if it's because I have chosen to simplify a lot of things in my life here or that I am stripped away of a lot of unnecessary dramas that I am noticing and appreciating things more or that even with a fulltime schedule I still find myself a lot of extra time to slow down and yes chew carefully or all of the above but I am finding myself easier to please these days - with the taste of food, how my day went, etc. I noticed that it has become a part of end of shift report that we ask the incoming staff, how is it outside - and when they say "it's very nice outside today" it can mean light snow, no blizzard, mild winds, temperature not lower than -12C, dark-as-usual-but-what-can-you-do..things that would be categorized as a miserable winter day anywhere else. I guess when you are up north you learn to recalibrate your appreciation meter somewhat. So going back to the roast beef sandwich, so yes..that was one of the best roast beef sandwich lunch I've ever had! And once again I tried to extract some form of metaphor when I accidentally poured more than just a tiny drop of very hot cayenne pepper sauce on my roast beef (see picture) . . and still ended up enjoying the meal. Somewhere along the line of - how an accident that would otherwise cause you to sting and burn makes you happier instead.

A funny thing yesterday, I was at the cafeteria to buy my lunch and thought that their sandwich special (shaved prime rib on croissant served with soup of the day - turkey noodle soup) sounded good (it was good, of course) and decided to get some. Then the cashier slash cook said to me, "what? you're not going to order poutine today?" I don't know if that's the downside of working in a small hospital where everybody knows everybody else and they can actually remember that I have been ordering poutine on a regular basis since I got here or my secret reputation as food fanatic is slowly coming out in the open. Anyway, I never thought I'd ever say this but I love hospital cafeteria food!

Working night shift tonight and looking forward to the night shift staff's free meal :)

A Lesson in Faith

I'm working this Sunday so I thought I'd attend anticipated mass this Saturday. I've made an ocular visit yesterday of where I thought the only Catholic Church here in Iqaluit was. I've googled on the church's website to check the mass schedule so I knew it was supposed to be at 5:30 but the Filipina who works downstairs told me that it starts at 5:00 so to be on the safe side I told myself I'll be in Church by 5:00. I thought I got that all figured out. I had my well laid out plans for this Saturday. Catch up on emails, chat with family, throw the garbage, go to mass. I was out of the apartment at 4:50, took a taxi because it was pitch dark outside although not necessarily cold at -8C. The lights were off at the church when I got there, the taxi driver even asked me if I'm sure there's going to be a mass, I said it was either 5PM or 5:30 so it must be at 5:30 then. I was ok with having to wait for another half hour anyway it wasn't that cold and the Church was in the middle of downtown so I felt safe. I think another 20 minutes must have passed and there was no indication that somebody would turn on the lights and there were no signs of other parishoners arriving to hear mass. So I was a little bit annoyed about having to stand there in the cold waiting for almost half an hour for nothing. Finally, I decided to just go home. Maybe the mass was cancelled or something (though I didn't see any note at the doors saying so). I took a taxi again because after standing outside the Church for half an hour I was not in the mood for a leisurely walk. I gave my apartment address to the taxi driver and he said he'll be picking up other customers first then he'll take me home (taxis do that here, expect there'll be passengers other than you and you can wave and hail for a taxi wherever you are). I said it was ok and started complaining how I had to wait for half an hour for the mass and turns out there's no mass after all. Taxi driver turned to me and said, "well, you will be rewarded for your good intentions". I wasn't too sure if I heard him right and so I asked him to say it again. And again he said my intentions were good, so even if I didn't get to hear mass I would still be rewarded. I answered with a half hearted, "I guess you're right", sounding as enthusiastic as somebody who just won consolation prize at some contest. And the driver kept reassuring me that my good intentions won't go unnoticed and he told me he is of the Islam faith and he believes this to be true - that whatever you're doing, even if you're getting ready to sleep or something like that if you offer it as a prayer with the purest intentions, it would be lifted up and rewarded as a high form of prayer - or words to that effect. And he reminded me of that old Muslim story, about a man who dreamed all his life to make that pilgrimage to Mecca and after saving his money for so many years he finally was able to afford the trip but on the way he chanced upon a family in need and decided to give his precious savings to them and headed back home because after giving away all he's got, he could no longer afford the said trip. But then his charitable act would be rewarded more than if he was able to make it to Mecca. I guess I felt better afterwards. I mean, to be honest I didn't have the purest intentions for going to mass other than the desire to fulfill an obligation but I didn't feel as bad anymore for having to wait in the cold. And I got a little lesson in faith on board a taxi. Indeed, God speaks in many ways...even through Muslim taxi drivers!

A Little Motivation

Many times, even after eighteen years, I would still question my worth and capabilities as a health care professional... so today I got to read this gentle reminder:

"God does not call the equipped, He equips the Called"

It is good to remember sometimes that we do what we do not because we are the best, the brightest or the greatest. Definitely not because we are the holiest, purest or most perfect. It's just simply because we are "called". I think that is enough motivation for me right now as I go through the process of starting over again, being a newbie, an orientee...unlearning and learning.

I'm getting into the habit of looking outside my bedroom window the first thing I wake up and for a few brief seconds gaze at that cross on top of the hill and remembering that little verse: I lift up my eyes to the hills from where comes my help . . . .

This is the Life

I am lounging in the comfy sofa, embraced by my purple plaid throw, reading a fluffy themed, feel good James Patterson novel on my ipad, I've turned all the lights off except for one night lamp, Johnny Matthis' Misty playing on the background. Yes this is the life!

Some people might think I gave up the convenience of the city, the warmth of the tropics, the comforts of the south in exchange for never ending winters, long nights and this strange land.

But if only for this moment alone - my peace and quiet, my books, my music ... I can say, this is what I need and this is where I would rather be. I will not trade this for anything in the world!

All About Food

A lot of people know that I am passionate about food. And when it comes to being a food critic my credibility among family and friends is dangerously close to zero. Because they think nothing tastes bad for me. The truth is, when I like what I eat I would gush about it, otherwise, I would stay quiet - not even complain. Right now I would like to write about my experience with food here so far in Iqaluit because somehow I've been thinking a lot about it. Again, this is something that doesn't come as a surprise to those who know me well.

First of all, the price of commodity (including food)here is definitely much more expensive than elsewhere in Canada. But I think it's just crazy to rant about that fact day in and day out because like the constant presence of snow, it is something one has to live with. So yes... First thing, I won't complain about the price.

I admit that I have always been a little too adventurous when it comes to food. I know for sure that I lack the DNA for queasy stomach. I am willing to try anything exotic even extreme. Eating exotic northern delicacies, however, is still a part of my wish list here. And this definitely needs an altogether different post. This post is actually about my day to day subsistence.

Hospital Food

I know the word yummy and hospital food can hardly be found together in the same sentence but here in Iqaluit I have found an unexpected exception. First day of orientation I was with another new hire and we had quite a late lunch at the cafeteria. I ordered a small poutine and coffee and she had the same. We were famished from all the information overload so we were eating silently for a few minutes. Then almost at the same time, although, neither one of us wanted to say it at first..we both asked ourselves, "are we just really starving or isn't this one of the best poutine ever"? Followed by, "wow this coffee is not just 'not bad', it's actually quite good!". Now if I try to rewind that scene a bit further, we were at first a little put off when we entered the cafeteria because it looked just a bit sketchy to the point of being scary but since we were hungry, we decided to look past appearances and got ourselves a pleasant surprise. Ok, so granted we were just really really hungry, for our second break that day we decided to go back to the cafeteria for another cup of coffee. Same verdict. It was good-atypical-for-hospital-cafeteria coffee. And during one of my shifts I got a large poutine and same thing- one of the best poutine I've ever tasted. Back in Calgary, I tried one of the haute cuisine poutine at one of the high end restaurants there and I wasn't really that thrilled. And I just said to myself how high end can you really go with a poutine when it's really more of a winter comfort food than cuisine. But I love the cafeteria poutine. The fries are done just right..not greasy, crunchy on the outside warm and soft on the inside..the gravy's perfect, not too salty with enough peppery taste that I like and the curds of cheese are just so good.

One of my co nurses' just crazy about the breakfast sandwich so one time I thought of giving it a try and again I was delightfully surprised about so unhospital cafeteria like the taste was! Then they had this dinner special one time where you get roast beef, mashed potato, veggies and choice of soup or salad ( I had the barley soup). It was arranged square meal/ barracks like so it wasn't aesthetically enticing but again the taste just surprised me! It was really, unexpectedly good! One perk we get when working the night shift is that we are provided with our night shift "lunch". And last night we had this yummy steak sandwich, with chunky and creamy mushroom soup, pasta, cookie, crackers and juice! Not a bad deal for working nights, eh? I was one happy nurse!

Grind and Brew

As I've said I am hanging out in this cafe at the hotel lobby called Grind and Brew. Mostly to avail of the free wifi but as a courtesy to the kind Filipina cashier who lets me stay here for as long as I want, I also buy myself something to eat and drink. Which is really not a supreme form of sacrifice for me because they serve good food and great local coffee. I first tried their veggie wrap and it was one of the best wraps I've ever had...overloaded with cheese, mushroom, eggs and pepper. Right now I am finishing my Thai noodle salad which is another delightful discovery for me. Yesterday, the cashier recommended their personal size pizza so I got one for take out. I thought I'd save some for dinner but I finished everything at lunch time!

Storehouse Bar and Grill

Right now as I am finishing this post, I am looking at the line up at storehouse bar and grill..the cafe where I am at is just outside the grill. It's Wednesday and it is wing night here at the grill... Where a ten piece chicken wings cost $5. Last night I asked one of the nurses, is wing nights so popular because the wings are cheap or because they taste good? She said, "both". Well, that's good enough for me. When I am done with this I will join the queue and get myself some wings for dinner.


I am planning to try the Northern Sunday brunch they have here at the inn when I get to have a Sunday off, I heard it's a must try too.. I am adding a lot of things in my gustatory wish list right now because so far I have not been disappointed.

Now for those wings....

Life Simplified

It's been a week. It also feels like forever. This place scares me. Not because of the harsh winter. Not because I am on my own. And definitely not because it is unlike any other place I have ever been. What scares me is that this place has this strange effect on me.. A certain pull. I feel like I might be staying longer than I first thought I would.

At the expense of being criticized for "overkill", I will confess that I was crying on the way home from work the other night. There I was a tiny speck in the universe walking along snowy hills surrounded by a vast tundra..open skies..wilderness of snow. The thought of being a part of that scene..or moment..moves me beyond anything and when I am in between being at a loss for words and overflowing with emotion I can't do anything but cry.

I love my work. Because I honor the privacy and confidentiality that surrounds my workplace I wish not to say anything more beyond that but know this for sure - when I say I love my work, these words weigh more beyond whatever form of material compensation. I just feel blessed that I have been given this opportunity to make a difference. That I get to go home at night with the peace and satisfaction that I have contributed something good and positive through what I do.

I love a lot of people- family, friends, relatives .. but I also realize that I am in a phase of my life right now where I prefer the peace and solitude that comes from being on my own. I can be in a crowded room and still feel lonely and isolated. Or I can be in this far and remote place and feel a certain connection and belongingness to everything around me. And that is what I am feeling right here right now. For the most part it might have been the work opportunity that brought me here. But after a week, I am finding the experience more as something spiritual. Like a sort of retreat. Like a time for going within. Again, words fail me now. But who was it who said..life is not meant to be written or read but meant to be lived?

I love that I am starting to establish my own little routine here. The moment I arrived I can sense the pulse, the heartbeat and the rhythm of the place and I wondered how I can inconspicuously insert my own rhythm..without disrupting the flow.. And I am proud to report that I am getting there..

I love the gears that help keep my mind off from the forces of nature and which in fact teach me to embrace these same forces as I need to live in this kind of environment anyway. I have never been the designer type of person. Unless there's a word "sale" or "clearance" attached next to the designer label but for my trip up north I had to rely on proven brands to help me get by. So I say - I love my Sorels because I have come to love my daily treks on hilly slopes. I love my north face backpack because it literally got my back, prone as I am to sliding and tripping, I love the snow pants I bought which initially drove my wallet to tears... Same can be said with my parkas (although I still have that Canada goose one on my wish list). I was walking home the other day and there was an impressive flurry in progress and all I can think of was...oh my God I love these snow goggles! All my life I have trained myself to look the other way when tempted to buy all those pretty clothes and nice shoes so I wasn't happy at first with having to buy the not necessarily cheap and not exactly becoming or flattering winter clothing but they have become my best friends here now. Yes function over fashion. That's what it's all about.

I love how my life has been simplified in the last 7 days. Even if a lot of people would argue that it's much to soon to make such conclusions. If you are living your life a day at a time there's no such thing as making conclusions too early or too late. Each day brings about a new discovery, new learning, new realization.. I might sound like I am looking at things with rose tinted snow goggles (and they are really rose tinted!) but that's how I am feeling right now on this my first week in Iqaluit. Who knows what tomorrow brings?

I guess that's it for now. Time to get ready for tonight's shift.

Before I go offline

I moved into my apartment yesterday. While it doesn't have the comfort and luxury of the hotel room I am actually glad I got to move sooner than I expected. For one, I needed to get things organized before I'm totally immersed at work. Another thing is that I want to get into the rhythm of things and try to see what kind of routine I can get to establish for myself. Staying in the hotel is the honeymoon. Moving into the apartment is real life. Obviously I'm not here for a honeymoon. And it's actually not bad either. I got a furnished one bedroom apartment and l am liking it so far. It is small but fairly new. It's easy to clean and maintain - and for someone like me who is the extreme opposite of neat freak, this is a huge thing! The appliances are working fine so far. Just a couple of outlets that are not working but I will let the landlord know about it. The funny (and also the lucky) thing is that the apartment is in the same building as the hotel where I stayed initially! So when I was moving my bags I would just discreetly make several trips from hotel room to apartment bringing one bag at a time. Only because if I hear another comment about my cannot travel light neurosis I just might scream. So when I actually checked out I was only tugging along two decent sized bags. And with the apartment being in the same building as the hotel, I still get to avail of the hotel's amenities: restaurant, fast food, convenient store, cinema and even fitness centre! So if the weather's particularly bad I don't even need to get out at all. Except when I am working of course! And there are always taxis waiting outside the hotel so I can just take a taxi to work during bad weather. Which is I think a two minute ride. Flat rate here is $6 to anywhere. On most days, one would rather walk going anywhere but I am talking about weather extremes.

I am not going to whine and lament about the Internet plan I chose ( which will be installed next week yet so right now I am just making use of wifi at the cafe here at the hotel lobby). I was thinking, since I don't have anything to splurge on here, I might as well avail of the best available plan for Internet. Although I heard that the best they've got is just 4x faster than dial up. That is totally fine with me. But I will be without Internet the next few days. It's ok though. I'll be working for four straight days anyway. And I have the chance to organize my new nest. And I get to catch up on my book back logs. I finished reading Paolo Coelho's the Aleph on the plane, right now I am reading The Four Agreements and I still have a line up of books that I am dying to read, Including the rest of the Games of Throne series (I am still struggling with book 2). So I think being offline for a few days won't be such a bad thing. And hey, who am I to complain? I am old enough to remember what life was like pre internet!

I got the chance to walk around town yesterday and I can't think of any apt word to describe the experience other than surreal. It's a totally different world. And I mean that in a good way. It's hard to explain but it's like I was transported back in time but also it feels like I was transported to an alternate universe. I emailed my mother and told her it's not easy getting lost here even if I tried! The roads just make a loop around and you just walk and walk and then find yourself back in the same spot you were before. And my apartment's one of the two high rise buildings here so wherever i go, whichever side of town I may be I can still see where the building is so yes I won't get lost that easily. I have the worst sense of direction so this works pretty well for me. I love looking at the beach - Frobisher Bay. I guess I should redefine what my concept of beach is. I am besieged by a tsunami or avalanche of sensation when I get to behold the magnificence of what I see before me. All so new to me. I realize that as long as I am properly geared, I don't mind the cold that much. What I am not so thrilled about though is having to walk through slippery slopes. I have the worst balance staying still so imagine what I am like in motion. Then again for someone like me with the worst sense of direction and even worse sense of balance, finding my way here up north is already some form of odds defying achievement! For that I can say, I am quite proud of myself.

So will be offline for a week. Actual work begins tomorrow. My so called life in Iqaluit now begins..

Iqaluit Day One

Who would ever thought that someone like me would ever get the chance to be in a place like this? Sometimes when you allow life to take you by the hand and believe that tiny voice telling you you'll be okay as you take a leap of faith... you'd get to do the things you never thought you can do... be where you never dreamed you can be -

Today was amazing and I just feel so blessed.

Tomorrow will be my first day at work. Time to see how I can fit myself in the rhythm and pulse of life in this place.

Welcome to the North!

Iqaluit Bound and a Good Omen

Ottawa Airport.

Here I am waiting for my flight. Looking forward to whatever lies ahead except for that part where I have to wrestle with my 6 piece luggage. Unfortunately that's the first thing I need to do as soon as I arrive, before I can even start musing about the meaning of life and my purpose for being. Starting a journey with too many excess baggage. There's a metaphor there somewhere.

This morning while I was waiting for the airport shuttle and having my prescribed dose of caffeine, a very pleasant lady sat next to me to make chit chat. She told me that she saw me yesterday at the airport wearing all my "warm clothes" and she guessed I must be going to Iqaluit. Not a few people have told me that I am quite transparent. I guess even through all these layers (yes I've been on semi full winter gear since I left Calgary yesterday.. Down to the Sorels) I still manage to exude some degree of transparency. Either that or a "to Iqaluit or bust" sign was suddenly tattooed on my forehead. Anyway, I told this nice lady that yes indeed I am going to Iqaluit and I asked her if she's from there as well. With a big, warm, happy smile she declared, "I've been working there for ten years"! Now, if somebody can accessorize a statement like "I've been working there for ten years" with a big, warm, happy -- emphasis on the happy -- smile.. that is enough good omen for me. It's like the universe giving me a reassuring push towards the north and telling me I'll be fine.

Everything's going to be all right.

Lightness is Unbearable. Still

Calgary airport.

It's the law of the universe. Those who don't learn from the past are doomed to repeat it. Someday I will get it right.. Someday i will travel light. I had this conversation yesterday with one of my room mates where we tried in vain to convince ourselves that our inability to travel light is in fact justifiable. It was of course an exercise in futility. A lesson that I realized today ( actually, it's a lesson i realize each and every time i travel) when I had to explain to the taxi driver and to at least two airport personnel that yes these are all my bags and no there's nobody else traveling with me. I tell myself that I am getting better at this when my heaviest bag weighed in at exactly the cut off weight of 50lbs and I got a "right on" compliment from the (thankfully) nice lady at the check in counter. I said in a previous post that when it comes to defense mechanisms I specialize in denial. Well let it be known that I sub specialize in rationalization.

Still I have to be thankful for little things. That the next time I get to see those bags it will be in Iqaluit (unless they end up in Siberia) and I get reimbursed for excess luggage but not for overweight bags -- and I got the weight part right at least. But I swear someday I am going to get this right!

Here We Go

Life is either a great adventure or nothing - Helen Keller


If somebody who cannot speak, hear or see can utter these words....what's my excuse?

Taxi arrives at 0745.

Let's go north!

In Retrospect

The movers arrived today. Nothing makes my upcoming trip more real than seeing my stuff being boxed and carried away. Five days more.

I am taking a break right now from all the packing and preparation and try to stay still for the remaining hours of the night. I am just taking all this in for now. And while I'm trying to take stock of everything that's happening, I remembered this post I wrote two years ago when I celebrated my first year in Canada. I also recycled some parts of this post in an article I wrote for a local magazine back home. My year in review. My mindset in 2009. Somehow it helped erase the few remaining doubts I may have about my crazy plan of going to Iqaluit. I am meant to do this.

Thought I would repost this here to serve as reminder and maybe a sort of baseline for me to monitor how Iqaluit can change my mindset and perspectives.


_________


Random Takes: 365 Days in Calgary
I've been told that my first year as an immigrant in Canada could be the worst time of my life. While I can easily conclude in a very Dickens way that my first 365 days in Calgary was the best of times and the worst of times, I also realize that I cannot just oversimplify my experience here by defining it as either of two extremes. Looking at the much bigger picture, we know that the best of times..though it makes us happy and fulfilled, also makes us prone to complacency and when we want to stay in a certain comfort zone or get stuck in a happy place, we cease to grow. And the worst of times on the outset can cause a lot of misery and suffering but it also pushes us to a certain limit that we thought we could never reach, we are motivated to do whatever's necessary just to extract ourselves from a not too pleasant life episode. And because all our senses are put on high alert level and because we are exposed to rough roads that cause us to trip, fall and rise again..we realize that in the end, these are the times when we learn, we grow and I can never say this often enough.."what cannot kill us, can only make us strong". Having said that, I can now reiterate that I cannot just label my first year as an immigrant as either the best or the worst of times.

Someone once said that "the purpose of life is to live a life with purpose" and that is the premise I would like to set as I attempt to finish my sort of "year in review". We are not born into this world with a complete manual of instructions that would tell us what to do with our lives or a map that would tell us where to go. The map and the manual would definitely make things easier for us but it would deny us the chance to experience the essence of being human - having free will, being able to make choices, make mistakes and realize that they weren't really mistakes but opportunities to learn, build a comfort zone and leave it to plunge into a deep unknown...and through the twists and turns of our lives we end up realizing why we are here in the first place..and though we traverse rough roads and highways, cross oceans and climb mountains..everything comes full circle when we become who we are destined to be.

One unfortunate hallmark of being human is constant discontentment..everything that is out of reach, distant, absent or unavailable is always better than that which is within grasp, real, already there. People back home may say, I wish I am where you are, have what you have or live the life you're living..while those who have left would always have the intense longing for home. People always ask so is it better there than here? It's amazing how we insist on comparing things that are devoid of common ground...what is with what has been or what is with what will be or here with there. And we always end up being miserable with the answers (or our self constructed conclusions)..and that's the desired effect isn't it? Because once we realize the futility of what we're doing..we have to face the fact that when we measure life in terms of where we are or where we're going ...where we are headed or what we have left behind..we are just, in a profound way, wasting our time.

After spending long hours by myself..on a train, on a bus, in an empty room...I have this realization about migration..or what it means to be an immigrant.

We all know that migration is a natural phenomenon that is vital for the survival of species. When I'm at the train station in Marlborough I would often watch birds in flight. Sometimes I envy how they can just escape winter and fly south. I would also think how the process of migration is much simpler for them than for us. I am pretty sure they no longer think about trivial things such as which continent would feed them best or from which river they would get much satisfaction. When we see birds in flight we do not question their motives in terms of lack of patriotism, or imagine the drama that comes from leaving home or starting over again. We know that it's their survival instinct that cause them to do this. And nature, true to form, takes care of its own. Maybe when we say, "free as a bird" it may not necessarily be just in reference to their ability to fly but more because of the fact that they can take flight..migrate..without looking back.

I always say, I am where I am ought to be at this point in my life. Every immigrant has a different reason for leaving his country of origin but whether it was an opportunity, a plan, a personal motivation, a perceived luck/chance/coincidence, an invitation..whatever stimulus it might have been..it was but an instrument..for a destiny to be fulfilled. I am now in Canada (for whatever reason) but if this experience is dissected down to its core I know I would understand that this has nothing to do with Canada at all. This place is not an endpoint or a destination..but a phase or that another life lesson I need to learn is here. If this is my final stop, let it be. If this road takes me back home, let it be. If it will lead me somewhere else, let it be. But I won't leave this place without finding out what I am supposed to fulfill here in the first place.

I have never been gifted with a scientific mind and there were times in nursing or medicine that I felt like an impostor make believing that I can understand a foreign language being spoken. The only time I can understand these scientific concepts is when I can see them as some form of metaphor. When that happens, I always feel that a window to another dimension is being opened..one that I find familiar..one that I can understand. That happened one time in medical school when I was reading about neovascularization and the example given was how retinopathy in the newborn occurs. That in order to survive, a premature infant needs to receive high levels of oxygen..and the body feels the need to accommodate this sudden increase in oxygen levels so it wills itself to develop more blood vessels..but when oxygen therapy is discontinued the new vessels could no longer be sustained..they eventually necrotize and become nothing more than fibrotic tissues that serve no purpose. It dawned upon me that the same thing can happen to us at a higher level. I was born and raised in Iloilo. I spent the last 36 years of my life there...it's a place I know like the back of my hand. The place I worked was also where I spent my life as a student...where I know my way even when I'm blindfolded..walking backwards. Every other random person I bumped into was somebody I knew..I was safe there..it defined my comfort zone. And with this familiarity I realized the absence of growth..there was the lack of motivation to be more than I was because I was already comfortable with who I was. When I became an immigrant there was a rapid onslaught of stimuli coming from all over and I felt new nerve cells growing overtime just to process these barrage of things - information, events, culture, experience, rules, policies, language etc - headed my way. I was sort of going through my own version of neovascularization. And I know that once this strange place transforms into a comfortable zone, with the absence of new stimuli - my own growth and process of discovering who I am would, likewise, cease...and that would be time for me to move on again. Not necessarily to another new continent but to the next level of learning. It's not making sense when put into writing..that's why life has to be lived not read.

Yesterday, I received a letter (among other things)that informed me I was now eligible to work as a Graduate Nurse after having completed the required courses needed for me to be "recognized" as a nurse graduate who can take the licensure exam for nurses here. I don't know why after having passed three licensure exams and after having taught in nursing school, this acknowledgment that I am now "eligible" to start all over again as a nurse still has an overwhelming effect on me. Maybe because I still have the notion that I am an alien needing recognition..or affirmation that I am competent enough to practice my craft here. Or maybe because this door was closed on me several months back and the acknowledgment is now the window of opportunity slowly being opened. It maybe only a year but disregarding the concept of time, it was still a long journey leading to this acknowledgment of eligibility. But still, I cannot define it as my "worst of times". I was reading a magazine the other day and one celebrity was quoted as saying, "happiness is enjoying the view on a detour". I was struck by this statement because this was precisely what I did these past how many months. When I was forced by virtue of technicality and policies to make a detour, I allowed myself to wallow in a few hours worth of semi despair before I did the things needed to be done to get back in the right track. And I realized that my oft worn out battle cry ("everything happens for a reason") still holds true after all. I had to go back to school and this gave me a small dose of "Canadian Education", I met people and listened to stories that connect with my own..forming a lovely, intricate pattern...the web of life. I loved the bus rides because I literally enjoyed the view...this detour that led me to the right path. Yes I am where I am meant to be at this time of my life.

365 days in Canada. You can call me an immigrant, a traveler, a pilgrim, a wanderer or even an accidental tourist..it would all depend on my story for the moment. If I were to be asked if it was indeed the worst (or best) time of my life, I would respectfully beg for the question to be rephrased for when you are living the life you are meant to live, with the hopes of discovering your purpose for being..it's never a question of being worst or best. It is because it is and it's meant to be. When all these roads I follow lead me to know who I really am and why I am here..then I can finally say, I am home.

Why Nunavut

Why am I going to Nunavut?

While it is not easy to give a crap-free answer to casual acquaintances, it's even tougher to convince people who think they know me well that 1. no I am not crazy and 2. seriously, I am not crazy! For the past how many weeks I have found myself loving those who right off the bat simply say that they are happy for me and they wish me well. Even if some of them are just saying it because they really don't care where I am going or they have no idea where Nunavut is, they have made my life a lot easier by not letting me have to explain myself. That's one reason why I chose not to talk about my plan (except to my family and very few close friends) - I don't want the noise of other people's opinions and questions drown out that little voice that's telling me to take this major leap of faith towards the north. I know, I'm trying too hard to sound Steve Jobish like with my musings - I just finished reading his biography and am still having little hang over from that.

Yes the pay is good and the work experience is great but if that's all there is to it, it wouldn't justify at all my having to extract myself from my just recently built comfort zone. Although I would be a hypocrite if I say that the practical aspect was not a part of the equation but it merely served as additional nourishment to a seed that has already been planted. A lot of people may not know it but I have always relied on my intuition when having to make major decisions. I agree with the late Steve Jobs when he said that "intuition is greater than intelligence". There is some check and balance, however, between who I really am, in essence and my upbringing that keeps me grounded. So when my interest on venturing up north was aroused, the often ignored practical and reality bound part of me told me that I was crazy. And that could have been the end of it. But then earlier this year I faced a sort of financial bump and team intuition grabbed the chance to use this unfortunate, though not necessarily earth shattering event, as a strong argument for their cause. That I should go north. Again, like all my intuition based decisions, as soon as I took the first tiny step to making it happen, things just started to fall into place.

But again, why?

Maybe I need to be somewhere that would lead me towards the core of who I really am. When I find myself stripped of all the trivial and nonsensical concerns, the dramas and all the other trappings of life and where layered clothing's the only layering I'll ever need, when I have to go back to the basics and rely on my survival instinct and when I am in a place so vast that I am confronted by how small I really am in the greater scheme of things...maybe, just maybe, the north can bring me a step closer to understanding who I am and my purpose for being. And isn't that what life is really all about in the first place?

I know that I sound like I am romanticizing something that requires a lot of planning, strategy and sound judgment. I know that it is naive and even foolish of me to talk about this when I am not even in Nunavut yet. But at this point in my life, my intuition has already attained a track record that I am willing to trust. For the longest time and through every different phases of my life it has gently whispered to me that I should not be afraid of starting over. Always. And that has been the recurring theme of my life - starting all over. Because of this I've had the opportunity to experience a lot of things I would never have experienced if I stuck with a single, safe formula. I may never know what it feels like to reach the top of the ladder but I get to run in a vast open field! I may have my limitations as a person but I make sure that my life experiences are not limited.