Margaret Sharrow in Greenland

Greenland blog 19: A tale of one ferry

2011-02-04T21:01:00.002Z

Town just south of Sisimiut, Greenland. Image © Margaret Sharrow, 2008

Once past Hamborgerland, we stopped at or passed a few more settlements on the way to Sisimiut. Again, photographs show settlements clinging to an edge between steep mountains and the sea.

The ferry was gradually losing its tourists here and there, one man wearing army fatigues having gone ashore with a massive pack that probably weighed as much as I did. He was clearly equipped for wild camping. At each stop we collected an increasingly Greenlandic clientele, bearing enormous amounts of luggage including large electrical appliances and oversized children’s toys. By the time the ship turned southward on 31 August, it was clearly the end of the tourist season, as the only non-Greenlanders remaining on board were myself, a Danish woman who was having a tour of the country at the end of her time working in the Home Rule government in Nuuk, and, briefly, the man who had been wild camping. The ferry service used to extend further south, to Nanortalik, but now goes only as far as Narsaq and Qaqortoq; it also used to go much further north, to Upernavik, 72 degrees 50 north, beyond which there are hardly any settlements except Qaanaaq and its few satellites. And there are no ferries at all linking the few isolated settlements and the massive national park on the east coast; aside from flights from Reykjavík to Kulusuk (including a mad day-tripper service), all east Greenlandic transport is pretty well by helicopter, private boat, or, in season, dogsled. There are limits even for the mighty cargo ships; in Greenland, the weather ultimately determines everything.

What do people do if they want to move white goods in winter? Insanely, flying is the only answer. And yes, they do have refrigerators in Greenland.

30 August 2008 17:43 recalled 22 January 2011

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Greenland blog 18: Happy in Hamborgerland

2011-01-31T12:33:00.002Z

Cruising through Hamborgerland, Greenland. Image copyright Margaret Sharrow, 2008.

I soon realised that the next leg of my trip could easily qualify as one of the world’s greatest cruises. The route passes through a sheltered area between offshore islands and the Greenland mainland, Hamborgerland. The retention of a European rather than Greenlandic placename is unusual: most Greenlandic towns have replaced the old Danish names, so that Godthåb is now Nuuk, Søndre Strømfjord is known as Kangerlussuaq, and Holsteinborg has been renamed Sisimiut.

Hamborgerland, however unmodern in name, is timeless in rugged yet peaceful beauty. It was my first encounter with glaciers, tumbling like frosting through the bundt peaks rising up on either side of us. Breakfast over, tourists tumbled onto the decks to enjoy the spectacle - which inevitably means the frantic urge to preserve the moment in photographs. (I of course was doing more of this than anyone, although it was my raison d’etre.) An Italian couple asked me to take their portrait against the backdrop of peaks. I was, as always, happy to oblige, and then the man offered to take a photo of me. (This is not the photo I’m using on my contest entry page http://www.blogyourwaytothenorthpole.com/entries/166, which is a self-portrait, but another image slipped in amongst my 35mm contact sheets.) I wondered what other tourists might make of the scenery. As the sun rose higher it became increasingly warm, and people took over every available sun lounger. I really couldn’t get over the idea of Italians travelling to the Arctic Circle, to sit and catch the rays as if at a beach on the Venetian Lagoon.

30 August 2008 10:04 recalled 18 January 2011

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Greenland blog 17: a snapshot of industry

2011-01-26T19:18:00.004Z

The edge of Maniitsoq, Greenland. Image copyright Margaret Sharrow, 2008.

These storage tanks on the edge of Maniitsoq held oil and or diesel, I assume, vital resources that like so much else in Greenland, must be imported. (I didn’t know at the time, but Maniitsoq is the operational base for Polaroil.) The cost of food, especially fresh fruit and vegetables, was astronomical, and being a shoestring budget traveller required careful shopping. However, one surprise was the price of petrol and diesel, which was far less than in Britain, more on a par with the United States. Either it was little taxed, or state subsidised. In any event there wasn’t very far to drive, even in Nuuk, though it is true that people tended to leave their motors running during short stops. During the winter this is essential, because it takes such an effort to start a motor when the temperature is well below zero. However, it is a habit that carries over into the summer months, as I saw in Nanortalik.

Industry in Greenland is in the process of changing as new prospects open with global warming. This may be an unexpected statement in the light of global warming generally presented by the media as being nothing but a disaster for arctic regions. However, it was apparent from Suluk, Air Greenland’s trilingual inflight magazine, that new opportunities are presented by possibilities for Arctic Sea shipping routes from Siberia to Canada, which will inevitably dock at Greenland. Furthermore, new developments in mining in Greenland are on the cards, with new mines opened or projected to open to exploit resources such as lead and zinc. There are also possibilities for offshore oil drilling, though after BP’s experiences in the Gulf of Mexico, it will pose a huge technical challenge and must be approached with great caution.

Aside from fishing, there are other smaller industries in Greenland such as production of high-end fashion, particularly using local materials such as seal fur, and book publishing. And, of course, there is a substantial income from tourism, which I was contributing to in my small way.

30 August 2008 08:27 recalled 21 January 2011

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Greenland blog 16: Maniitsoq - life on the edge

2011-01-26T19:11:00.003Z

Docking at Maniitsoq, Greenland. Image copyright Margaret Sharrow, 2008.

My original plan was to spend a few days in Nuuk, take the ferry overnight to Maniitsoq, and spend two nights there until the ferry returned on its southward journey. However, once again I had a problem because I hadn’t prebooked my accommodation. No hostel beds were available, and the cheapest hotel single room that the helpful woman in the Nuuk tourist office could find cost £90 (about $140 US). At that price, I thought I might as well change my ferry ticket, spend two extra nights on board, and have the chance to make stops at Sisimiut, Aasiaat, and the elusive Ilulissat. Actually there is nothing elusive about Ilulissat, except in my previous budgeting, as it is the most likely place for reporters to be filmed ranting about climate change while standing in front of the glacier, which is less than a kilometer’s easy drive from the airport.

And so I found myself having an early morning glimpse of Maniitsoq dock for twenty minutes, not long enough to risk taking a walk. So what was I missing? Aside from being yet another beautiful sunny day...

Maniitsoq is a settlement on a small island quite close to the main landmass of Greenland. It is a top destination for fishing, snowmobiling, hiking and skiing. As with all outdoor pursuits in Greenland, a greater degree of preparedness is required than when venturing into the ‘wild’ areas closer to human infrastructures, such as many of the national parks in Europe or the United States. Venturing out without knowledge of, and respect for nature, is ill advised.

Maniitsoq itself, like many Greenlandic settlements, is perched on the edge between rocky cliffs and the sea. The bridge in the photograph leads to a road that winds perilously along this edge, cars and trucks parked along its length, before winding back to a higher level of houses, apartments and industrial buildings. It gave the simultaneous impression of nowhere to go, and limitless space, highlighting how much our modern sense of being able to move depends on human infrastructures, such as roads and rail (there are no trains anywhere in Greenland). It was natural to wonder what it would be like to live in such a place. Of course, from the perspective of having a small boat, horizons expand. And as we set sail past Maniitsoq, there was ample evidence of this in the form of several isolated houses scattered a few miles along the coast, fishing/hunting lodges with no other connection to the main settlement except these private boats. Places without neighbours, roads, electricity, running water, and possibly telephone signal. Just one or two people, tiny in the vast sweep of nature.

30 August 2008 08:15 recalled 20 January 2011

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Greenland blog 15: Dawn on deck

2011-01-22T18:36:00.004Z

Arctic Umiaq Line ferry heading north, Greenland. Image copyright Margaret Sharrow, 2008.

After four days in Nuuk I bid my landlady a fond farewell and bundled into a taxi to catch the night ferry north. Actually it was the only ferry going north that week, so if you’re planning to get round Greenland’s west coast by sea, careful planning is in order.

I had amassed a pretty hefty amount of luggage by this time. Sizing up the angle of the gangplank, I began to regret that in addition to my seriously unoutdoorsy large wheelie luggage and daypack (holding seven cameras, fifty rolls of film, battery charger, useless Danish primer, and all the extra thermal clothes I hadn’t needed) I was now cutting my wrist (enough to draw blood, as I discovered later) with several bags of shopping. I had spent the previous evening cruising one of Nuuk’s two large supermarkets, stocking up on food that required no cooking and didn’t necessitate taking out a bank loan. I was now toting tinned fish, heavy thin sliced rye bread, a little pricey fruit, two one-litre cartons of yogurt, a packet of the yummy mushroom spread I’d developed a taste for at my landlady’s, salami, and boxes of vacuum packed chocolate milk and orange juice. Oh, and the bottle of duty free white wine, and some caribou lasagne I’d gotten from the deli. No point in missing the local delicacies.

Some kind soul from the ship’s crew negotiated my wheelie luggage down a flight of stairs to the couchettes. At last, I was settled, with another four days of not needing to move my luggage, and not needing to spend precious docking time shopping. Yes, I was planning on staying on board for the journey to the furthest northern point of the route, and after a four hour stop, returning to the ship as it steamed (or rather dieseled) to its furthest point south. And why the food? I was determined to save my kroner, and not knowing how exorbitant the prices might be at the on-board cafeteria (quite reasonable by Greenlandic standards, as it turns out), I was taking no chances.

And so to couchette. The cheapest option with AUL (Arctic Umiaq Line, the ferry company) is an eight-berth single sex room, though a curtain separates the space into two sections with two sets of bunks each. I was grateful to be very close to the centre of the ship, to minimise movement, and not to be assigned a bed to the extreme fore, which was right by a fruit machine. I spread my sleeping bag, and in the womblike warmth and darkness was soon asleep.

And so it was that I awoke at 5 am, way too hot. Quite frankly this was not what I had been prepared for in Greenland. I pulled on a fleece over t-shrt and quick dry trousers, and went exploring on deck. After a couple of minutes this outift was not really sufficient to keep out the stiff breeze generated by our steady progress.

By then, I had made a discovery that made me wonder if I was still dreaming. In the surreal light of dawn, earlier than ever as we headed towards the Arctic circle, the bright orange deck sported a series of navy blue sun loungers.

30 August 2008 05:31 recalled 19 January 2011

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Greenland blog 14: arts centre med kaffemik

2011-01-22T12:50:00.005Z

Folk dancing, Nuuk arts centre, Greenland. Image copyright Margaret Sharrow, 2008.

I always like to check out galleries and arts centres when I travel, not just because I’m an artist (although that is the main draw), but also because they often have good places to eat with an interesting atmosphere. I must admit to being spoiled, living as I do with the Aberystwyth Arts Centre on my doorstep, with three galleries, an excellent and ﬁlling salad bar in the main café, and even better treats in the Piazza Café downstairs, such as the salmon and cream cheese wraps and tasty pizza. And no visit to the Tate is complete without either shooting up the elevator to the fabulous views of the Thames over a mocha at Tate Modern, or, ideally, savouring devilled kidneys on toast with a glass of wine at the Rex Whistler Restaurant at Tate Britain (to say nothing of the possibilities of a drink on the sunny terrace overlooking Porthmeor Beach at Tate St Ives!) So naturally, when I stumbled on the ultramodern arts centre in Nuuk, with its distinctive exterior, undulating waves of smooth wood simulating the face of a glacier, I had to investigate.

And boy was I rewarded: the interior atrium, with its soaring ceiling and glass walls, was as funky as its exterior. There seemed to be a full programme of cinema, mixing popular releases with a few more arthouse offerings. However I never made it upstairs in search of galleries because I was detained by the cafe. I chose something from the tempting array of cakes, a moist carrot cake I think, but the star of the show was deﬁnitely the hot chocolate. Served in a tall glass, heaped with whipped cream, the chocolate was rich, the cream was the excellent Danish silky dairy, and there was more than a note of nutmeg. I honestly have never had such excellent hot chocolate in my life, thick as a sweet soup without being in the least cloying.

The next day I was back, late in the afternoon, wondering what cake to choose to accompany other glass of heaven. In the kind of dumb luck that is often a tourist’s serendipity, I didn’t have to choose: it turned out to be a demonstration of Greenlandic folk dancing, accompanied by that wonderful Greenlandic tradition of the kaffemik, the coffee-chat, usually taking place in people’s homes and thus difficult for the foreigner to encounter without tourist office mediation. But here was something obviously laid on for families and friends who had come to see the dozen or so dancers, ranging in age from about thirteen to retirement. And what a spread! Tables groaning with the full range of the cafe’s best cakes, accompanied by endless ﬂasks of strong dark coffee. Here was a blessed chance to compare the fruit tarts, the rich chocolate cake frosted with dark chocolate, and the light heaven that was the raspberry pavlova (probably my personal favourite).

I just had time to settle myself into a corner with a good view of the action when the dancing started. The music was not dissimilar to what you would hear at a Scottish reel, a lot of jigs and toe-tappers in 3/4 or 6/8 time. They jumped, they jigged, they do-si-doed, they did a variant on strip the willow, they stamped, the held hands and galloped in a circle. And me? My hands ﬂew over my shutter and zoom, quickly rejecting freeze frames that captured people in the uninteresting junctions between movements in favour of an evocative blur. I’m still thinking of how to weave them together in a video. I know, it’s been over two years, I should just get on with it. But ﬁrst, I’ll need to track down suitable music. Luckily I know just the person to write to... but that will have to wait for another posting.

29 August 2008 16:37 recalled 18 January 2011

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Greenland blog 13: frantic construction and quiet hygge in Nuuk

2011-01-19T15:33:00.002Z

Candles, Timerlia, Nuuk, Greenland. Image copyright Margaret Sharrow, 2008.

Still enjoying lazy mornings in my landlady’s flat-cum-B&B in Nuuk’s trendiest suburb, I luxuriated in the views out all the large triple-glazed windows, looking at the ragged mountain overseeing the ‘motorway’ and the colourful scattering of apartment blocks, marvelled at the plethora of cranes, busy construction that reminded me of living in Toronto in the late 1980’s, when every day saw new bank and hotel towers springing up like bamboo. I sat on the sofa with its seal fur cushions, admired her collection of Greenlandic naive paintings of moonlit snowscapes with polar bears, peered at family photos taken at swimming pools in tropical places, and a single black and white photo of what was probably my landlady as a toddler, being held by her mother in front of a wooden house.

And everywhere, there were candles, on the tables, the window sills, the cabinets. In shops everywhere in Greenland, there were extensive displays of candles, with ample stocks even in the smallest settlements. This is a Scandinavian thing, best summarised by the Danish word hygge, which translates roughly as ‘cosy’. Hygge means that though the nights are long and the winters cold, inside it is warm, with plenty of food, and plenty of golden light from loads of candles. So there they were in Timerlia, waiting patiently through this end of the summer, for the nights to draw in so they could cast their healing glow again.

29 August 2008 09:26 recalled 17 January 2011

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Greenland blog 12: experiencing Ultima Thule via the telephone directory

2011-01-19T11:42:00.002Z

Complete listing for Siorapaluk, Greenland telephone directory. Image copyright Margaret Sharrow, 2008.

In a place where there aren’t a huge number of entertainments, everything available becomes interesting. The most extreme example of this phenomenon I have yet encountered was not in Greenland but in Shetland, where some years ago I stayed for several days on the remote island of Foula, where there were no public buildings aside from the shed that is the airport, and a brand new school-cum-community centre, which served two pupils and some thirty other year-round residents as well as a trickle of bird watchers and archaeologists. Each field, farmhouse, raggedly unshorn sheep, horse, child, angry bonxie (great skua) defending its oversized teenage young, puffin, waterfall and rainbow became precious, as did my domestic arrangements (an unrennovated summer hut where I spent most of my time drying my clothes, and eating the food I’d brought on the gut-wrenching two hour rough crossing). And I needed to have brought all my food: the island had no shop at all, except for one house that sold knitwear. It was there that I bought the beret you see me wearing in the photo that adorns my North Pole competition entry (http://www.blogyourwaytothenorthpole.com/entries/166). I took that photo on the Greenlandic coastal ferry, proving that the hat travelled with me round Greenland.

This digression should help explain, not just why I sported a tan mohair/wool beret on the ferry through Greenland’s coastal fairyland, known as Hamborgerland, but also why I found it interesting to look at the Greenland telephone directory at my landlady’s flat in Nuuk. Yes, the entire country’s telephone numbers are contained in one slim volume (the population is around 56,000 - that’s the population not of Nuuk, but of the whole country). And yes, Greenland (and the world’s) most northerly civilian town, Siorapaluk (population 68), boasts a listing that can be encompassed by a third of a column. That includes around ten business numbers, as well as residential numbers. I have a feeling that not everyone needs to have a land line. After all, if there was an emergency, one could always knock on a neighbour’s door... If I had been able to go to Qaanaaq, the town created when the US military displaced the population en masse from Thule so that a base could be built, Siorapaluk would have been a short dogsled ride, or, considering that it was summer, a fifteen-minute helicopter ride away. And why would I have wanted to do this? People in Nuuk, and points further south, all raved about the far north every time it was mentioned. Nuuk was not the real Greenland, I was told. ‘What are you doing staying here?’ said the bus driver who took me into town from the airport, peering puzzled through his reflective sunglasses, cool in his Manchester United shirt with short sleeves while I stood bundled in two pairs of thermal trousers and a mock-fur down lined jacket purchased in Wyoming. ‘You want to go to Ilulissat, go dog sledding.’ And another man in the hostel in Narsarsuaq went into a rapture of nostalgia, speaking the name like that of a lover, ‘Ah, Thule’, pronounced like a lapping brook, ‘TOOL ah’.

So, unable to journey to the Ultima, I had to content myself with seeing the telephone numbers of the people I might have encountered in near round-the-clock daylight, eager to talk to any unlikely visitor, offering hot dogs and sled dogs that were not packaged for tourists but part of daily life. And, yes, it also meant that although I would be achieving a new ‘personal north’, I would not have that feeling of having gone as far as I could go, before turning around with a feeling of satisfaction that I had seen all there was to see. Is it any wonder that I want so much to stand on the North Pole and feel the entire earth turning beneath me?

29 August 2008 08:11 recalled 16 January 2011

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Greenland blog 11: a fascination with cemeteries

2011-01-17T12:02:00.005Z

Moravian cemetery, Nuuk, Greenland. Image copyright Margaret Sharrow, 2008.

During my time in Greenland, I became fascinated, rather unexpectedly, with cemeteries. For an island with almost no trees, there was a surprising preference for wooden crosses rather than stone (which Greenland is full of) to mark the graves. Many of the crosses were very old, and in any case the wood was certainly imported. And there is always the fascination of the stories contained in cemeteries: even without being able to read, it was interesting to see the mix of Danish and Greenlandic inscriptions, or no inscriptions at all (not as much of a priority in a place where everyone knows everyone). Also the preponderance of Danish rather than Greenlandic names: it is very common for ethnic Greenlanders to have Danish rather than Greenlandic first names, and often surnames. I do not know whether this custom began with the missionaries in earlier centuries, or whether it is more to do with trying to fit in to a society where many of the top jobs were being held by expat Danes - I am just speculating here.

Whatever the names of the people buried within the wooden fences that enclosed the cemeteries, I enjoyed the quiet atmosphere there, both in the one squeezed between industrial warehouses and across from the internet cafe in the centre of Nuuk, or the one by the Moravian church overlooking yet another of Nuuk’s jagged sunset-facing bays.

27 August 2008 20:27 recalled 15 January 2011

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Greenland blog 10: humanity and nature

2011-01-17T11:57:00.002Z

Beach by hospital, Nuuk, Greenland. Image copyright Margaret Sharrow, 2008.

Here is an image that, for me, shows the relationship between humanity and nature in Greenland. We are tolerated, but on the edge, nearly invisible against an overwhelmingly enormous landscape. A short walk down a street branching off the main road through Nuuk brought me to the hospital, an enormous two or three storey building, buttercup yellow with dark red trim, three wings extending off the main structure in an E-shape. A large number of rooms faced the beach, the view extending into the bay with studded with small rocky islands, framed by distant mountains, occasional icebergs and fishing boats drifting by, a spectacular view of blue skies during the day and golden syrupy sunsets in the evening. If I am ever hospitalised, I want to come here. The views alone, even when covered with snow as they are for much of the year, are enough to make anyone feel better.

27 August 2008 13:51 recalled 14 January 2011

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Greenland blog 09: Time in Timerlia

2011-01-16T18:40:00.003Z

Greenland’s only ‘motorway’, Timerlia, Nuuk, Greenland. Image copyright Margaret Sharrow, 2008.

Yes, that’s right: Greenland’s only road with more than two lanes is right here, running from Nuuk’s town centre out to the airport and back, a distance of less than two miles. The airport bus runs the same route, back and forth and looping round the town centre, all day long. Number 3, I think. Of five (one of which is a school bus, and I never saw number 4). It is very hard to get lost in Nuuk, though the distances are greater than in other settlements.

On arrival I discovered that there was a flaw in my meticulous planning: although all my transport was booked, most of my accommodation was not, as I had figured it would be easier to deal face to face with the tourist office on arrival. What I hadn’t bargained on was a huge circumpolar conference that had booked out most of the hotels in Nuuk, as well as the hostel. I spent quite a while in the tourist office (the staff were excellent, and spoke fluent English) and had to come back later - the plan being to contact a lady who offered bed and breakfast, but it was necessary to get through to her at work, or to wait for her to come home, or something like that. So it was that I ended up in an ultramodern flat in the suburb of Timerlia, with a view out one side of the living room, through triple glazed fully insulated windows, as seen in the photograph. Mine hostess’ English was far better than my Danish, or my French even, and she was very generous and welcoming. I had the run of the fridge for my breakfast, which I got round to eventually after a slight hiccup that first morning.

Still on British time and excited after tumbling early to bed the night before, I woke up extremely early (well before six). Having watched the dawn light touch down from the summit of the mountain presiding over Timerlia, I crept round, desperate to figure out which door was the bathroom but not daring to try any. I even tried the door of what turned out to be a utility shed on the balcony outside the flat, as if a place blessed with underfloor heating would have some sort of Victorian British outside loo. I couldn’t remember if she’d said what time she had to go to work, but there was no sound from her bedroom. Finally I knocked, and she had indeed overslept. Needing to get a taxi to work instead of the bus, she kindly gave me a lift into town. In the coming days I came to realise just how much Greenlanders value their sleep - certainly this woman did. She spoke about how much she enjoyed weekends, when she could sleep as much as she wanted. (A woman after my own heart!) She could sleep for Greenland, I remembered thinking. So for each of my remaining mornings with her, I made sure she was up in plenty of time.

27 August 2008 08:17 recalled 13 January 2011

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Greenland blog 08: Housing old and new

2011-01-15T16:11:00.002Z

1960’s apartment blocks, Nuuk, Greenland. Image copyright Margaret Sharrow, 2008.

I spoke a bit yesterday about Denmark’s early colonial period in Greenland. One legacy of Danish colonialism, still very evident in Nuuk, is the apartment blocks that were built in the 1960’s, which are now increasingly run down. Again, the intention behind them was probably well meant: in the 1960’s many Greenlanders were still living in sod huts, often without plumbing or any modern conveniences. While perhaps more ecologically sound, they were certainly not as comfortable as the apartment blocks when they were new. Yet the traditional ways of life persisted, despite mass transplantation to ‘modernised’ dwellings: in this photo the balcony is transformed into a curing ‘shed’ for caribou antlers and an array of drying fish, bones, etc. However, bringing people together in single large dwellings was also a means of social control. Living in a place with mains services such as electricity and water requires paid employment, rather than a hunting and fishing economy, and in Greenland many jobs have an apartment included in the contract. This is why local newspapers frequently print photographs of employees who have worked for the post office etc. for over twenty years - quite young people who have obviously had the same job since they were teenagers. When I was there it was obviously people with better jobs, such as my landlady (an administrative assistant) who were living in flats in the new suburbs such as Timerlia - her building was less than three years old and obviously a model of energy efficiency. Those who are unemployed, in lesser jobs and/or succumbed to alcoholism (endemic in Nuuk) have been left in the crumbling blocks in the town centre. And yet there is no sense of danger - the few drunks I encountered were harmless and just wanted to chat. In fact the only thing approaching harassment I had on the entire trip was from a Norwegian pan-Arctic conference goer who had obviously been celebrating with large quantities of Tuborg on a boat outing. After I declined an invitation to join him at a party that evening his Marlene Dietrich-soundalike colleague actually said, without a trace of irony, ‘She vants to be alone.’

26 August 2008 15:47 recalled 12 January 2011

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Greenland blog 07: Colonial legacies

2011-01-14T10:54:00.002Z

Statue of Hans Egede, old harbour, Nuuk, Greenland. Image copyright Margaret Sharrow, 2008.

I mentioned about Greenland’s relationship with Denmark. Having lived much as they had for five thousand years (although there were several different native Arctic cultures over this period), the Greenlanders encountered various Norse and Scandinavian attempts at settlement, beginning around the tenth century, one of which failed spectacularly. However by the 1800’s the Danish had established successful trading, whaling and even farming settlements in a number of places. Denmark claimed Greenland as a part of the Kingdom of Denmark in 1814, having built up the colony under the leadership of such persons as Hans Egede, depicted here in a statue overlooking the old harbour of Nuuk, which he founded and named Godhåb. Denmark’s empire also extended to the Faroe Islands, which explains why both Greenland and the Faroes have characteristically Scandinavian architecture, Danish as an official language, and the kroner as currency. On the whole being colonised by Denmark was about as well-meaning a situation as possible under the circumstances, but Greenland has been in a process of growing independence since the 1970’s. Although it is still part of the Kingdom of Denmark, Greenland is now an autonomous country administered by a Danish home rule government - a situation roughly parallel to the process of devolution taking place in Wales and Scotland. Greenland is even the only country to have voted itself out of the European Union. And shortly after my visit, they voted for further steps towards self rule. Seeing the posture of Hans Egede thrusting his staff in gesture of progress and Protestant sobriety, I can’t help thinking there must have been reasons for the desire for home rule. Not everyone could have been so willing to accept Greenlandic culture on its own terms as the famous explorer Knud Rasmussen, known affectionately by the Greenlanders as ‘our little Knud’.

26 August 2008 14:40 recalled 11 January 2011

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Greenland blog 06: the inland icecap - time to adjust my sense of scale

2011-01-13T11:45:00.002Z

Inland glacier/icecap, between Kangerlussuaq and Nuuk, Greenland. Image copyright Margaret Sharrow, 2008.

Flying again over the icecap, I was struck with the present moment, as I would be for so much of my time in Greenland. And the present moment said: Greenland is big. Greenland is enormous. Before I had even boarded the plane in Copenhagen, I knew that Scotland had a far bigger feeling, space-wise, than Wales, and that Shetland had a far more remote feel than highland Scotland, each place having a feeling of bigness or remoteness about ten times more than the previous place. So if every landscape in Scotland felt ten times bigger than a similar landscape in Wales, I figured that the emotional impact of Greenland would be about ten times that of Scotland.

Flying over a white expanse that seemed to press right up to the window, an undulating sea of snow broken by dark peaks of mountains breaking through like rocky froth, I revised my scale of bigness. It was Scotland, times a hundred.
26 August 2008 10:39 recalled 10 January 2011

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Greenland blog 05: On Greenlandic airports, or, what to do in an emergency

2011-01-12T15:31:00.002Z

Dash-7 propeller, Kangerlussuaq airport, Greenland. Image copyright Margaret Sharrow, 2008

I should say here that my change of planes was necessitated not just by the convenience of the Air Greenland network, but by geography: the reason that international flights do not go directly to the capital, Nuuk, is because of an almost complete lack of flat land in Greenland. There are only two places on the entire west coast with enough flat land to create a runway long enough to accommodate modern jumbo passenger craft: the deep fjords at Narsarsuaq and Kangerlussuaq. Thus anyone wishing to travel to Nuuk from abroad must first land at Kangerlussuaq, then transfer to a smaller plane that can land at Nuuk’s smaller airstrip. Said airstrip, blasted out of four billion year old rock, is the largest that can be built at Nuuk, not because there isn’t more land (a new suburb is springing up beyond the airport), but because there isn’t any more flat land. Like all the towns in Greenland that I visited, the mountains rise up pretty sharpish behind the last rows of houses.

The prospect of the next leg of my journey was made a little odd by the abrupt termination of my view of the interior of the plane by a wall, two rows in front of my seat. Somehow on a plane seating only around sixty I had been expecting to see the flight deck, to have some sense of where we were going. My unease was compounded by the on board safety cards. These depicted fabulous scenes of what would happen in the event of a crash, how one was to be bundled up, Michelin man-like, and await rescue sitting on plane seat cushions in the middle of a glacier.

The engines started, the propellers buzzed into action, and I prepared my 35mm camera, one of my medium format cameras, and my digital. There was no time for panic or disappointment. Like an understudy thrust into the spotlight, I was on!

26 August 2008 10:11 recalled 9 January 2011

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Greenland blog 04: Scrum in the fjord

2011-01-11T12:48:00.002Z

Kangerlussuaq airport, looking down the fjord, Greenland. Image copyright Margaret Sharrow, 2008

Having landed, my perspective changed back to that of a land-dweller, and I was dealt my first and only disappointment in Greenland: it suddenly looked all too much like the Scottish highlands. Why had I bothered to come so far, at such expense, I thought peevishly, when I could have stayed in the country I love and call home, and seen much the same scenery? Now this narrative is not meant to be about my own psychological blips and foibles, but forgetting that I’d spent a less-than-luxurious night on a bench in the food court at Copenhagen airport, my perspective was a little skewed at the sight of ruddy snow-capped mountains rising up on either side of the airstrip, a fjord stretching away very much like a sea-loch in Wester Ross. What wasn’t obvious from my perspective was just how long the fjord was (190 km, nearly three times as long as 65 km Loch Fyne, Scotland's longest sea loch), which accounts for the climate in Kangerlussuaq being somewhat warmer and more stable than almost anywhere else on the west coast, except for the similar fjord at Narsarsuaq, which is much further south.

There wasn’t much time for negative thinking, as action was called for: we emerged down a staircase directly onto the tarmac (ah, this was what flying was like in the 1960’s) and walked less than a hundred metres to the terminal, passing a sign with fingerposts giving the distances to Moscow, London, Washington, etc. Once inside the claustrophobically tiny terminal there was no attempt at customs but an immediate scrum inside the duty free. Toblerones, cigarettes and especially alcohol flew off the shelves while staff at two tills stoically coped with queues bursting in and out the turnstiles. I was worried about my luggage in the hold, or missing my next plane, but needn’t have been; by the time I emerged clutching a single bottle of white wine (encased in some ingenious Scandinavian fishing-net type plastic mesh to prevent breakage) my bag had been magically transferred and it was time for a gentle stroll back onto the tarmac, and to board a Dash-7 standing ready, bound for Nuuk.

26 August 2008 09:49 recalled 8 January 2011

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Greenland blog 03: aerial perspectives

2011-01-09T20:37:00.003Z

River estuary, west coast of Greenland. Image copyright Margaret Sharrow, 2008

I am always fascinated with what landscapes look like from above, which reveals so much more than what we can see from our day-to-day perspective on the ground. The rivers that I saw were not places seen from a bobbing boat, or from the shore while scanning for abundant trout, or glimpsed indifferently from a bridge while sailing on to somewhere else by coach. (There is very little travel by coach in Greenland, as none of the settlements are connected to each other by road.) No, the rivers I saw on that first descent were unencumbered by boats or bridges or fishing-folk, but grand free silver bands, winding and braiding and unbraiding themselves as they slipped through a brown rainbow of silt towards the sea. It was the first of many occasions when I wished I had some knowledge, any knowledge, of geology, but somehow knowing whether or not this was an example of a terminal moraine would probably have detracted from the experience of pure joy at the colours, the shapes, the fluidity of it all.

26 August 2008 09:39 recalled 7 January 2011

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archive of posts

Greenland blog 02: How my art took me to Greenland, and a Danish tongue twister

2011-01-08T16:54:00.004Z

Parting clouds, west coast of Greenland. Image copyright Margaret Sharrow, 2008

I mentioned yesterday about the grant that allowed me to travel to Greenland, generously provided by the University of Wales, on condition that I was engaged in some sort of creative project (drama, cinema, creative writing, or in this case, fine art) with a further outcome to enhance my educational experience. I was at the time pursuing a BA at the Aberystwyth University School of Art, having hurried straight into the second year and begun experimenting with alternative photographic processes. This means that although I started out making some digital work, my main focus was in the darkroom, first doing traditional prints, and gradually moving into different techniques and chemical processes until it became photography, Jim, but not as we know it. By the end of the year I was cheerfully pouring bleach over multiple-exposure prints then wailing when I discovered that Sigmar Polke had already done exactly the same thing in 1971. To cap it all I’d been awarded a massive travel scholarship, which made for an interesting summer. After I finished marking a million media studies A level papers I had flown straight into preparations: daily study of Danish, in hopes of being able to speak Greenland’s colonial language, if not Greenlandic itself, which is difficult to find recordings for the essential comic attempts at mimicry. Now Danish can be difficult for the English speaker because of its range of guttural sounds produced at the back of the palette. Though Danish is reasonably similar to English in terms of word order, linguistic roots, etc., and I’d spent hours making vocabulary flashcards in my favourite cafe, I found that when confronted with actual Greenlanders speaking their colonial tongue I had my usual reaction - I froze (metaphorically, as it was still summer) and forgot everything I’d ever learned. There was one exception - I was able to amuse people by reciting the never-to-be-forgotten tongue twister taught to me years ago in Toronto by a Danish-Canadian friend. It employed a string of the guttural sounds, and provided guaranteed hilarity, by dint of my pronunciation: rød grød med flød på - which is red pudding with cream, as I remember.

Somehow I have diverged onto Danish tongue twisters and puddings, which throws up the whole question of Greenland’s relationship to Denmark. But more political thinking would leave us both up in the air, ignoring the spectacular views unfolding out the window of the descending plane. I can assure you unreservedly that at the time I took the photograph shown here, I was as fully present as I have ever been in my life, allowing for the fact that a certain detachment is inevitable when taking photographs at a furious rate. By the time we landed I was convinced that if I never took another picture over the next three weeks, I would still have enough material for an exhibition. The land was chiseled out of the green-blue sea, its elaphantine wrinkles washed with rusty red. And here I must say something about the colours I experienced, and have passed on to you. As with all my digital photos from this trip, I have made no alterations to saturation, contrast, density, etc., avoiding the current fashion in advertising and on Flickr for playing with these mechanics in Photoshop, producing supersaturated landscapes that anyone who has been to the place will recognise as overhyped, and setting up anyone who has not been for disappointment. Suffice it to say that with my photographs, as far as colour goes, what you see is what you get. Unless of course I have rendered the whole scene blue, by printing it as a cyanotype...

26 August 2008 09:32 (Greenlandic time) recalled 6 January 2011

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Vote for Margaret Sharrow to create ULTIMATE STILLNESS at the North Pole!

2010-12-31T22:13:00.008Z

On the AUL ferry, Hamborgerland, Greenland. Image copyright Margaret Sharrow, 2008.

The north pole is one of only two places on earth where the world stops turning. Can you feel the stillness?

My name is Margaret Sharrow, I'm an artist, and I'm so excited about my plans to share standing atop the world in a moment of silence. I'd invite others on the expedition to stand round the pole, dressed in red and bearing portraits of people who have brought peace and silence to the world. One by one they will stand on the pole, feeling inner and outer stillness as the world turns around them. They will also pass round the circle a plate of Italian crystal containing gold filaments, a work of art currently circling the world from one artist to another via FRAGILE - global performance chain journey.

Vote for me and I'll take dramatic photos of that event and everything else on the voyage, using digital and antique cameras. You'll see videos and share my stories and interviews on the blog. And I'll give you other ways to participate: I'll need nominations of people who've nurtured silence, to have their portraits carried to the pole. I'll organise silent circles round the world to experience stillness at the very moment the expedition reaches the pole. There will be a photo-book, and an exhibition that will tour the globe.

I've been in cold places all my life: born in Buffalo, New York (butt of American snow jokes) I drifted to Canada then Britain, traveling extensively in the remote north Atlantic. Best moment? A cherry red Air Greenland helicopter taking off from Qaqortoq, roaring rotors pulsing in my sternum, three cameras juggled on my lap, my tear-filling eyes stretched wide, not missing anything. The chopper rose, perspectives shifted, the world turned inside out. The harbour and jewel-coloured rows of Danish houses lining the bowl of hills. Sea glowing blue-green spotted with brilliant white icebergs running out of the fjords like a stately crowd dispersing. Jagged edges of fairy-pointed mountains against the horizon, pressing close as children at a sweet shop window. Sailing free in the skies until the stewardess, having handed round mints, sat opposite me. Oblivious to her daily tour of paradise, she happily leafed through a magazine.

Vote for me here! http://www.blogyourwaytothenorthpole.com/entries/166

There's more on my other blog margaretsharrow.blogspot.com,

margaretsharrow.weebly.com/greenland.html

andwww.fragile-global-performance.net.

Thanks for reading, and thanks for voting!

First of a daily series of new blog postings about my Greenland travels:

01 Flying high to Greenland

02 How my art took me to Greenland, and a Danish tonguetwister

more about why I want to go to the North Pole

more about Greenland

more about my art & photography

Greenland blog 02: How my art took me to Greenland, and a Danish tongue twister

2010-12-31T22:11:00.010Z

Parting clouds, west coast of Greenland. Image copyright Margaret Sharrow, 2008

26 August 2008 09:32 (Greenlandic time) recalled 6 January 2011

Want more? Then please VOTE FOR ME TO BE THE OFFICIAL BLOGGER & ARTIST ON AN EXPEDITION TO THE NORTH POLE! http://www.blogyourwaytothenorthpole.com/entries/166

and stay tuned for another episode tomorrow!

Greenland blog 01: Flying high to Greenland

2010-12-31T22:11:00.008Z

Air Greenland wing, flying over the west coast of Greenland. Image copyright Margaret Sharrow, 2008

I decided early on that the Air Greenland fleet was the handsomest fleet of airplanes I'd ever seen. They were all candy apple red, with a ski for a wheel (no, not that, I'm thinking of the Beach Boys) and just as lusciously shiny as a childhood treat, sprinkled with a logo of white dots forming a snowflake. In a rebranding that was the stamp of the dashing new CEO, the airline bent over backwards to give its passengers a first-class experience, which helped in a great measure to offset the first-class prices. In an ideal world I would have flown as far north as it was possible to go, Qaanaaq, but my entire grant wouldn't have covered the airfare. As it was, for the cost of the flight from Copenhagen to Kangerlussuaq, and from Narsarsuaq back to Copenhagen was more than a round the world ticket. But they were very generous with the food (quality, quantity, cutlery), the wine, the film (a Swedish drama that climaxed on the massive bridge spanning the Baltic from Malmö to Copenhagen), the courtesy. And overgenerous with the views on descent. Having come through rather unnerving turbulence over the icecap, the parting of the clouds alone would have resulted in joy. However, the ever-changing views of the rocky coast resulted in a sort of photographic ecstasy, of which more tomorrow.

26 August 2008 12:32 GMT -3 recalled 5 January 2011

Want more? Then please VOTE FOR ME TO BE THE OFFICIAL BLOGGER & ARTIST ON AN EXPEDITION TO THE NORTH POLE

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Greenland blog archive (new entries)

2010-12-31T22:10:00.022Z

Iceberg between Qaqortoq and Nanortalik. Image copyright Margaret Sharrow, 2008.

Vote for Margaret Sharrow to go to the North Pole!

01 Flying high to Greenland

02 How my art took me to Greenland, and a Danish tongue twister

03 Aerial perspectives

04 Scrum in the fjord

05 On Greenlandic airports: Or, what to do in an emergency

06 Over the icecap: time for me to adjust my perspectives

07 Colonial legacies

08 Housing old and new

09 Time in Timerlia

10 Humanity and nature

11 A fascination with cemeteries

12 Experiencing Ultima Thule via the telephone directory

13 Frantic construction and quiet hygge in Nuuk

14 Arts centre med kaffemik

15 Dawn on deck

16 Maniitsoq - life on the edge

17 A snapshot of industry

18 Happy in Hamborgerland

19 A tale of one ferry

Why I want to go to the North Pole: the full story

2010-12-31T22:06:00.004Z

My original proposal was limited to 400 words, so I think I'll write a little more to explain just why I am so drawn to northern places, and inevitably, the North Pole. But bear with me, midnight of New Year's Eve approaches... I'll have the full story tomorrow for the new year!

Vote for me to go to the North Pole! http://www.blogyourwaytothenorthpole.com/entries/166

Vote for Margaret Sharrow to create ULTIMATE STILLNESS at the North Pole!

2010-12-31T21:52:00.004Z

On the AUL ferry, Hamborgerland, Greenland. Image copyright Margaret Sharrow, 2008.

The north pole is one of only two places on earth where the world stops turning. Can you feel the stillness?

Vote for me here! http://www.blogyourwaytothenorthpole.com/entries/166

There's more on my other blog margaretsharrow.blogspot.com, margaretsharrow.weebly.com/greenland.html and www.fragile-global-performance.net. Thanks for reading, and thanks for voting!

more about why I want to go to the North Pole more about Greenland more about my art & photography

'Qaqortoq' published by Gwasg Oriel Press

2010-06-14T11:46:00.003+01:00

Gwasg Oriel Press announces the publication of Qaqortoq by Margaret Sharrow. Photos of this, the largest town in southwest Greenland, show it as 'a feast for all the senses'.

Browse and order now at the Gwasg Oriel Press website.

Qaqortoq by Margaret Sharrow

Review: Per Kirkeby at Tate Modern & 'The Accessible Arctic' exhibition at Canada House, London

2009-09-08T12:15:00.008+01:00

For me, there were two reasons to go to the Per Kirkeby retrospective at Tate Modern. One was a chance to see the work of one of Denmark's most important artists, including some of his watercolour sketches of Greenland, where I travelled myself exactly a year ago. The other, pedestrian, penny-pinching reason, was to make more use of my Tate membership. I wasn't prepared for the breadth of the work, from art school collages to pop art of his early career, to abstracts, sculptures, and a fascinating series of books he has published of both his own work, and monographs of artists who influenced him. The one of Michelangelo, in which his own work is juxtaposed with that of the master's, clearly shows the relationship between the two.

The Greenland sketches did not disappoint, either, coming as they did after my impromptu visit to 'The Accessible Arctic', Canada House's fine exhibit of Canadian Geographic photographs of the Canadian arctic, mostly in colour (and there's a great arctic film season coming up there in September/October!) Here I went through airport-style security (when trying to switch on my digital camera I had to confess to the attendant that my batteries had run down. After that he didn't look too concerned about me, correctly assuming that I was far to disorganised to be plotting some kind of a heist.) Even better was the display deep in the bowels of the ground floor, a magnificent room with columns and ornate furnishings and a full wall mirror (possibly two way, I mused, as two small girls pulled faces and showed off their dresses in front of it), which contained glorious colour enlargements of Robert VanWaarden's documentation of the the British Council's 2008 Cape Farewell project. This involved a group of high school students chosen from many countries, journeying by Soviet cruiser MV Academik Shokalskiy from Iceland to East Greenland, passing me in West Greenland when I was in Narsarssuaq / Nanortalik (could they have been the 'scientists' who were spending a couple of days up the fjord? according to Nils at the tourist office?) and on to Baffin Island in northeast Canada. Anyway it looked a tremendous experience, as the youth dashing bare chested into Baffin Bay seemed to symbolise. The photographs brought my own Greenland trip back to me, so my imagination was able to finish Per Kirkeby's wonderfully unfinished sketches, the wall of rock and water that move so far across the page and then stop, leaving a white void. The detail with which he renders mountains and morraines bely his early career as a geology PhD. He has been going to Greenland since the late 1950's when he was completing this postgraduate studies, and says that he doesn't feel right in himself if once a year he doesn't make a trip to Greenland, Iceland or the Faroe Islands. The north Atlantic / Arctic regions certainly have that pull. And the colours show up in his abstract or semi abstract work: the jewel blues and emerald greens that have a tawny, mossy quality; the swirl of grey-green like a fog descending on a fjord, the brilliant mustard yellows and hot pinks of the summer bloom. All these are in the wonderful abstracts with titles such as 'The Northernmost House', and even in one of the large abstracts which I must find the title of, which has obvious points of comparison in the palette and overall effect, if not the linear quality of the markmaking, to Monet's famous waterlilies at Giverny (which I had recently seen some of at the National Gallery).

Per Kirkeby has just closed at Tate Britain, London.

'The Accessible Arctic' exhibition continues at Canada House near Trafalgar Square until 30 October 2009, and the films continue there on Tuesdays until 20 October. A related exhibition, 'The Northwest Passage – an Arctic Obsession', runs at the National Maritime Museum until 3 January 2010. Read about the Cape Farewell project at http://www.capefarewellcanada.ca/.

Still on my mind

2009-07-24T10:54:00.008+01:00

It's funny how I cannot recall what I had for lunch yesterday, but I can, with the tiniest prompting, expound at length, with staggering levels of detail, on my trip to Greenland last summer. About how people get by, with the high prices, by visiting amongst the often large extended family without ever paying for a hotel, but filling every spare inch of floor space with sleeping bags at Christmas. About people taking advantage of the lottery in Kangerlussuaq to hunt the quota of musk oxen, and sharing the carcass, storing it in their immense freezers (yes, freezers are ubiquitous in Greenland). How everyone lives by the coast, and knows someone with a boat, who goes fishing. How the magazines feature awards given to loyal workers at TelePost, for ten, fifteen or twenty years' service by quite young people, and how people tend to hang onto jobs, often for life (not surprising considering many of them come with accommodation). How a small supermarket bag of cheap pasta, tinned fish, yogurt, three 'Viking steaks', milk, a bit of fruit and something green will easily top £20 (US $35). How the banks don't take UK debit cards because of Danish banking regulations, but the people working there are very friendly and helpful, and outside the capital, all dressed very casually. How the fog comes down in Qaqortoq and erases the top half of the hill with its staircased streets of primary coloured houses. How the rain comes down and it is never really very cold in August and early September (except on the top deck of the ferry at 5am) and I am a fool to be carrying around thermal trousers (most of the time!). How the spines of the books in the public library where I shelter from the rain are all rebound in jewel colours, pink and yellow and lime green, paperbacks to be treasured forever. How the fish market is selling whale but I am too late to see it and instead photograph the remains of giant ribs, chest high, sticking out of the rubbish bin. How the tables are cold steel and spread with fish and seal sliced red, gold mother of pearl eyes unseeing as the camera lens. A man, grey haired with a flowerpot shaped hat and glasses, wanting to shake my hand, talk, tell me he is sixty today. A museum, in an old hotel that looks like a red school house from pioneer America, where I steam around, drying out and looking at amazing tupilak carvings in creamy bone by father and daughter Aaron and Cecile Kleist. Where upstairs I photograph the room where Charles Lindburgh and his wife stayed, photographs of them and the seaplane floating on its pods in the harbour. Where the national costume is displayed, yoked neckwear that looks like Shetland knitwear in photographs but up close is composed of intricate beadwork in reds, yellows, white, indigo, purple and blue. Where a series of medium format square photos are displayed of life in the early 1960's, faces that tell of childhood, festive dancing and proud truck ownership but also of locals sat round the table with colonial bureaucrats who built the new concrete housing blocks that today are so run down. A woman, smoking a pipe, toothy and wrinkled grin challenging me to understand.

Greenland and Wales - Margaret Sharrow's Erwood show - general views

2009-06-01T14:52:00.008+01:00

A gallery and craft centre in a converted rail station, platform and carriages, this month featuring the work of Margaret Sharrow

My solo show, 'Greenland and Wales', has now opened at the Erwood Station Gallery and Craft Centre in Erwood, Powys, mid Wales, six miles south of Builth Wells. The exhibition is open seven days a week from 10:00 am to 5:30 pm, until 30 June. All the work is for sale, and many of the pieces feature local scenes from Erwood, the Elan Valley, Llandrindod Wells and even the Builth Wells bull.

I will be giving informal demonstrations / talks / workshops on Saturday 13 June and Saturday 20 June, from 1-4 pm both days. Drop by and find out how I made the images on display, have a chat, or just enjoy coffee and a cake in a pleasant atmosphere.

Margaret Sharrow - a solo exhibition of images of Greenland and Wales

2009-04-13T01:23:00.006+01:00

Ilulissat Icebergs, copyright Margaret Sharrow 2009

Margaret Sharrow announces her forthcoming solo exhibition!

An exhibition of images of Greenland and Wales, using historic photographic processes

Where: Erwood Station Craft Centre, Erwood, Powys, Wales
When: 27 May - 30 June 2009
Open 7 days a week, 10am-5:30pm
Tel: 01982 560674

Directions: Between Brecon and Builth Wells, signposted just off the A470 on B4567 near Erwood, 10 minutes from Builth Wells

More information to follow shortly.

map with Erwood Station Craft Centre marked

Erwood Station Craft Centre details on Welsh tourism board website

Erwood Station Craft Centre website

Greenland - Travels in an Amazing Place: a lunchtime talk by Margaret Sharrow

2009-03-20T15:40:00.022Z

View from the Greenland coastal ferry, heading north from Nuuk.

Thursday 26 March, 1pm
School of Art, Aberystwyth University, room 206

What is Greenland like?

Isn't it awfully cold there?

What is it like to stand by a glacier?

Can you really tell if global warming is happening there?

These and many other questions will be answered in a talk illustrated with photos and anecdotes, by third year fine art student Margaret Sharrow.

Last summer Margaret spent over three weeks taking photographs and travelling up and down the west coast of Greenland, the world's largest island and one of its most remote cultures. Located between Iceland and Canada, straddling the cultures of native Greenlanders, its Danish colonial heritage, and the global media culture, Greenland is also the home of some of the world's most stunning scenery.

For more information about Greenland, click around this website.

For more information about Margaret Sharrow, visit her art blog, online portfolio, or public Facebook page, or e-mail her at sharrow-art@hotmail.co.uk

For a map showing the location of the School of Art, visit here.

27 March 2009

Many thanks to all those who attended my talk, and asked such good questions. And also thanks to the people who apologised for not being able to attend: your good wishes were much appreciated.I have enough material for many more talks about Greenland, so stay tuned to my blogs!

Sisimiut views

2009-03-19T20:22:00.006Z

All images copyright Margaret Sharrow 2009

Alternative photographic processes portfolio

2009-03-16T02:38:00.005Z

Nuuk 2, mixed media

Nanortalik 4, Van Dyke brown print

Nanortalik 5, mixed media on paper

Ilulissat 2, mixed media on paper

Nanortalik 6, mixed media

Digital art photography portfolio

2009-03-16T02:30:00.002Z

Ilulissat 1

Nanortalik 1

Nanortalik 2

Nanortalik 3

All images copyright Margaret Sharrow, 2008

Nuuk's colonial harbour

2009-03-16T02:03:00.004Z

Flying in to Kangerlussuaq

2009-03-16T01:28:00.005Z

Nuuk apartment blocks

2009-03-16T01:15:00.007Z

Nuuk cemeteries

2009-03-16T00:51:00.008Z

A word on cameras

2009-03-15T22:17:00.011Z

Self portrait in Greenland, 2008, copyright Margaret Sharrow 2009

George Eastman as a young photographer

During my travels I was carrying around a load of cameras, though not the level of photographic equipment that early 19th century photographers such as George Eastman were lumbered with. Here is what I packed:

- Pentax K-1000, 35mm SLR with 28-70mm zoom lens

- Fuji Finepix digital SLR with fixed 28-300mm zoom lens

- Mamiya medium format camera from the 1960's, borrowed from my ever-generous tutor

- Olympus u-ju 35mm compact camera with fixed lens and flash

- 110 film plastic toy camera

- Kodak Junior medium format camera with bellows, c. 1910

- Russian retro light meter

I didn't carry all of these cameras every day. In fact, I took a 'day off' in Nuuk by carrying only the compact 35mm and the 110.

I had great plans for the Kodak Junior, which is small and slim and takes photos with great depth of field on negatives the size of Montana. Unfortunately, like all the great Kodak rollfilm cameras of the early to mid 20th century, it was designed to take 620 film, which is basically 120 film on slightly smaller spools (about 1mm difference, but enough to jam if you just load a modern 120 spool). So, the plan was to bring 120 film, two antique 620 spools, and a portable darkroom which is basically a black t-shirt with elastic sleeves and velcro closure at the bottom, in order to transfer the film onto the antique spools. Except it was only in Nuuk, in the bedroom of my B&B, that I realised I'd forgotten to pack the spare antique spool. Aargh! I tried trimming modern plastic spools with scissors, but they continued to jam. Lesson learned: double check all equipment before leaving home, and load all the cameras, too.

I took a significant quantity of each of the following films, as well as an 8gb memory card, and several memory cards of 2gb or less:

- Ilford 400 and 100 Delta (35mm and 120)

- Ilford 200SFX (the mock-infrared film, and its magenta filter, which I held in front of various cameras)

- Ilford ASA 50 film (a couple rolls of 120 only)

- cheap 35mm colour print film, expired for interesting effects, for the compact camera

- Fuji 110 colour print film (still available from 7dayshop) (4 rolls)

- Adox 100 black and white film, with the 1950's style chromatic sensitivity that makes reds, for example, very dark

- Three rolls of medium format colour transparency film (Fuji)

- Two leftover rolls of high speed 35mm film, expired (1600 and 800 ASA)

I estimate that in total I recorded somewhere between 7,000 and 9,000 images over 23 days, the majority being digital. I could have taken more, but I ran out of memory. I used up all my colour film and all the 35mm film except some of the Adox, and the 110 film. I had a fair bit of Adox 120 film and the ASA 50 film left, because it was usually impossible to shot the slower films without a tripod (mercifully left at home!), and the Mamiya being my only functional medium format camera and weighing in at 2 kilos, I was often tempted to leave it in my room.

One note on the photographs on this site:
Unless otherwise noted, they are digital photos and completely unmanipulated. So in terms of the light and colour, what you see here is pretty much what you would have gotten, had you been in Greenland on the day.

What (Not) to Wear in Greenland

2009-03-13T19:40:00.010Z

Approaching Paamiut, warmly dressed!

what I wore

thermal ski trousers
quick-dry thin trousers
puffa down jacket with a fake fur outer
ski mittens
fleece gloves
wool and cashmere knit beret purchased in Shetland
low-cut hiking boots (no ankle support)
long sleeved cotton tops by day, cotton t-shirts by night
thick cotton socks
sealskin insoles purchased in Nuuk
fleece
Buffalo sleeping bag

what I packed (and didn't use much or at all)

mosquito repellent (fortunately, it was too late in the season!)
thermal trousers (except on the deck of the coastal ferry)
thinly padded reflective camping mat (used in Copenhagen airport)
bivvy bag (thank God I didn't have to do emergency camping!)
camp stove without gas canister (what was I thinking? that I would cook outdoors?)
head torch (flashlight) (loaned by the same person who loaned bivvy bag and stove)
compass (but wouldn't have gone hiking without it)
mobile phone (used as alarm clock, but not for calls. The saga of telephones in Greenland deserves its own page.)

A radio programme of interest to those who love the Arctic

2009-02-26T20:30:00.006Z

Photo of Pete Abraham, copyright BBC, 2009.

This is nothing to do with my trip to Greenland, but the polar community is closely linked, from Greenland to Spitsbergen, from Kamchatka to Alaska. And I have recently enjoyed a radio documentary exploring the life and landscape of one man's life in remote Alaska.

BBC Radio 4's programme 'A Life With...' has recently completed a series on 'Tundra'. Presenter Grant Sonnex seems to have a genuine admiration for the Yupik way of life, if he sometimes seems unable to overcome his own cultural prejudices where Arctic attitudes to animals are concerned, in a way that seems unlikely had the programme been produced by the CBC. Nevertheless, Sonnex gives plenty of space for Pete Abraham to speak about his childhood memories of the traditional way of life.

For the next six days, you can listen to the programme at the BBC Radio 4 website.

Just touching down at Kangerlussuaq

2009-02-23T00:06:00.006Z

I wasn't going to stay. I was just passing through. I was on my way to Nuuk, the capital of Greenland, but it is not possible to fly directly to the capital, because the airstrip there is not large enough to accommodate jumbo jets on international flights. But the airstrip at Kangerlussuaq is, because the place was built as a US military base with an eye to catering for the supersized might of Uncle Sam.

And yet, it was to be my first moments on Greenlandic soil (or tarmac, to be more precise). After shooting enough aerial footage on the descent to mount an exhibition (there, I'd justified my trip already, I could relax [!]), the excitement levels were soaring way out of control, the closer we got to terra firma. And then we landed.

Hmm. The equipment on the ground looked much like any other airport round the globe, if the operators were definitely Greenlandic.

And those hills rising up along the valley - they could be anywhere in the north Atlantic, say... Scotland, where I'd been so many times? I had come to earth with a bump. Still, the airport was as tiny as any remote airport could be expected to be; and I had the duty free to negotiate.

The latter turned out to be far more arduous than customs and immigration (an empty desk). Having ascertained that my luggage was transferring from jumbo to Dash-7 of its own accord, I drew myself up and plunged into the scrum that was the duty free. Even with two tills working at full speed, it seemed to take forever until I could emerge, clutching my bottle of (relatively) cheap white in its peculiar string vest: a Scandi-invention that I realised provided grip when pouring while simultaneously preventing clinking in the shopping sack (should I have been so pecunious as to purchase more than one bottle).

Boarding the Dash-7 I thought again how handsome the Air Greenland fleet was, with its glossy candy-apple-red planes with the white abstract snowflake logo. Inside the single aisle terminated abruptly in a beige wall fronted by a row of seats facing away from the direction of travel. I figured that nobody would want to sit there, so I found a window seat opposite these but facing the correct way for my purposes. And I had plenty of room to open my day rucksack and pull out the first two cameras. The man next to me was lost in reading the paper (bilingual Danish and Greenlandic) and paid little attention to me, or, once we took off, the spectacular scenery. Which was just as well, because after a cursory look at the safety card (complete with nonverbal instructions on how to survive turning into an iceberg) I was glued to the window. My first journey with turbo props!

Greenlandic breakfasts

2009-02-22T20:29:00.011Z

Top: Up and about early in Nuuk. Below: Typical Danish/Greenlandic breakfast ingredients: heavy rye bread, margarine, and salami

'It's all about the food!' one of my friends once e-mailed me gleefully, in response to yet another detailed account from me of my latest gastronomic exploits. Yes, indeed, it seems I travel nowhere, from round the corner to my favourite cafe, to Tate Britain in London, to the Greenlandic coastal ferry, without constantly thinking about, assessing, and enjoying the food. Unfortunately Greenland is one of the more expensive places in the world to indulge this little daily pleasure, but I did manage to eat well and enjoy the experience, without going permanently in debt.

Breakfast rolls and cheesy mushroom spread

To begin, then, with the start of the day. If you've visited Denmark, Greenlandic breakfasts will come as little surprise. They're heavy on the salami and other cold sliced meats, served smorrebrod style on heavy rye bread, or on special breakfast rolls. The bread may also be spread with a variety of soft cheesy spreads flavoured with mushrooms, etc., or covered with cheese sliced with the Danish cheese-slicing gadget. This last, initially puzzling device, is like a small single-stringed violin - the string being a wire with which you peel a thin perfect layer off the top of the block of cheese, which may be lurking in packaging that makes it look like butter to North Americans.

The Danish cheese-cutting gizmo in action. Greenlanders would not make such a mess of the cheese!

Dairy features heavily in the Greenlandic breakfast, despite all having to be imported from Denmark, as although there are some sheep in the far south of Greenland, as far as I know there is no dairy industry. I certainly didn't see (or hear) any cows. So breakfast often typically includes a glass of milk, or yogurt poured from a carton. Coffee, yes, which is fairly strong if a coffee maker is used, and butter and jam or preserves for the breakfast rolls, which are toasted on clever countertop grill/toaster appliances that run on a timer.

Toasting breakfast roll

My landlady at the bed and breakfast where I stayed in Nuuk just let me get on with things, and once I learned where things were kept and what foods were for me, I got my own breakfast. Things were pretty laid back, and she wasn't really a morning person... After she went to work, I would potter around the apartment, enjoying the breakfast and the views.

Leaving Greenland

2009-02-10T19:36:00.010Z

leaving Narsarssuaq

Leaving is never easy, and it is more difficult when time has been altered by the experience of travel. I had been in Greenland for twenty-three days, but it seemed much longer - every four days or so had seemed like a month. So some part of me probably had assumed that I had moved here. There. You see, writing about it, I am back there.

The first flakes of snow were blowing on a very sharp breeze as I took my time boarding, then settled in my seat (last row, window again!). The large group of Russians from the airport waiting lounge were everywhere, including a man in the seat next to me. I couldn't help noticing he had a very large, up-to-date model iPod, that seemed to be photoviewer, games meister, mini computer, and whatnot all in one, with a large, sharp colour screen. I looked away in case I was about to be able to read his personal messages on the pin-sharp screen.

I was assembling my three cameras in preparation for the flight (Pentax K-1000 35mm, Mamiya medium format, and Olympus u-ju 35mm compact as backup - the Fuji FinePix digital was completely out of memory by this point) when a face appeared over the seat in front of me. It was one of the Russians, of course. 'I see that you have a window seat,' he began politely, holding up a compact digital camera. 'Would you mind taking some pictures for me, since I am not seated by a window?'

'Well...' I needed to be honest. 'I've been paid money to come here to take photographs. But I'll do the best I can. I'd be happy to.'

He thanked me very graciously, and I had a look at another nifty little piece of kit. The zoom lens was actually more powerful than my FinePix, although I suspected its outer range to be digital rather than optical. I took a couple of shots while we were on the ground, to make sure I could work the thing. And then, we were ready for takeoff.

more to follow...

I took these pictures with Vladimir's digital camera.

This last is one of Vladimir's photos, probably from somewhere completely different in Greenland, but I quite like it. But how do you know his name was Vladimir? I can hear you ask. All in good time... and I will look up his surname to credit the picture, as soon as I can.

photo by Vladimir Schuster, 2008

Languages in Greenland

2009-01-17T18:31:00.021Z

Street scene, Nuuk. Copyright Margaret Sharrow, 2009

'So what language do they speak in Greenland?' people ask me. The answer is: depends who, and where. Most people speak Greenlandic (Kalaallisut), an Inuit language similar to some of the languages of the northern native people in Canada, which is after all only thirty-odd miles away (if you're up beyond Qaanaaq). As a part of the Kingdom of Denmark, Danish is the other official language, especially of the large number of Danes working in the Danish Home Rule government.

Walking down the street, you will mainly hear Greenlandic spoken. As a visitor you will be addressed in English in the tourist offices, ferry offices and by Air Greenland employees - but not necessarily in the post office or in shops.

A propos of nothing, according to Wikipedia, 'Qaanaaq is the world's most northerly palindrome.'

On the Up: Helicopters

2008-12-22T15:33:00.019Z

Nanortalik airport

OK, this is one of those dumb journalistic catchy titles. But it got you reading, didn't it?

It would be a lie to say that Greenland was my first experience riding in a helicopter. In fact, I once rode in a charity helicopter ride over the small Welsh town where I live, accompanied by one of the local entrepreneurs and the Cambrian News photographer.

It was all very exciting boarding the helicopter - I felt like a shuttle diplomat, ducking my head under the whirling blades, seeing the grass blow down and feeling the wind as the machine idled. Once on board the four seater, we were strapped into black leather seats, and the roar increased as we prepared to take off.

What happened next I was totally unprepared for.

As we rose, my familiar world of buildings and trees, playing fields and river turned inside out as they changed from normal ground level perspective to the aerial view. There is no other way I can describe that sensation. It was as if I had been worming along, only seeing the sides of things, when here all along was this other view of the familiar, from above, of which I was intellectually aware, of course, but of which I had no true understanding until that moment.

It was as if I had suddenly switched from being myself, to being my higher self.

I emerged from that quick tour of the familiar hills and valley, roads and farms, feeling as if a profound transformation had occurred. Quick eye contact with Entrepreneur, as we again played diplomats, assured me that he had felt the change as well.

That experience, so apparently removed from Greenland, surfaced in my mind again as soon as I realised that it was no longer possible to reach Nanortalik by scheduled coastal ferry, and that I would have to book a helicopter flight. What a hardship! Actually the flights are quite reasonably priced. However, if you live there it seems hard that flying, so susceptible to the vagaries of the weather, is the only way to get around. And suppose you are carrying something substantial, say, sculpture... In fact, on my first Greenlandic helicopter flight, part of the cargo was a massive Greenlandic husky, who had been patiently stowed in the front with my large wheelie luggage. (Fortunately the only food in that bag was firmly sealed in tins.)

Once in Qaqortoq, it became imperative to find the airport to reconfirm my flight. This, in true time-honoured fashion, I did entirely by accident. I was out exploring, found a run-down children's playground area (bouncy animals on springs with the handles ripped off, a graffittied wendy house, lots of litter) on a small rise. And from my vantage point: behold! The airport! Actually it was just across the road, but the rise made it easier not to mistake it for some offices. In I went, and confirmed my flight, face to face, in English, in ten seconds, with a rather surprised looking Air Greenland employee. Obviously most people don't bother to confirm these chopper flights - in a way, they are the bus service of the far south. If the chopper is delayed (and there is just one for Air Greenland, any other chopper is a charter flight), it will come along, when it comes, after it has shuttled from Narsarssuaq and Narsaq, or possibly Aliutsup Paa.

Finally I was ready to leave Qaqortoq (that makes it sound as if I couldn't wait to leave, which was anything but the truth). My new friend from the hostel and I had agreed to share a taxi, which was good, because otherwise I would have attempted to walk down and uphill dragging my wheelie luggage and carrying an unfeasible number of cameras in my rucksack.

Off we went, in a bit of a flurry. She was worried that we would be too late to check in. On arrival we found that we were... having to wait four hours, as the weather at Narsarssuaq was bad, and things were delayed.

to be continued...

end of trip summary e-mail

2008-12-17T00:29:00.009Z

Arrived safely in Narsarsuaq on Saturday, and now am checked in to the flight to Copenhagen which doesn't leave for a few hours and it is sunny so hopefully plane will arrive & take off again on time.

Many more wonderful adventures here in Narsarsuaq, but will tell more later. Went on another wonderful 5 star walk yesterday. The big surprise here has been the fall colour, really bright. I didn't think there were any trees in Greenland, apart from a small forest tucked behind Nanortalik. But there are loads of shrub sized trees here, and a few real ones - they have an arboretum with trees with plaques saying they are from Colorado, Alaska, Kamchatka, etc.

Have met people and made not just contacts, but friends. It is surprising where artists and photographers turn up...

Well, I will be sorry to leave here but I am looking forward to term starting, and to getting going on the 10,000+ pictures I've accumulated. I have only 2 rolls of 35mm left, absolutely no more digital memory tucked away ANYWHERE, though I do have quite a bit of 120 film left, mainly because of problem with spool on the 1910 Kodak which I couldn't use, though I took Chris' large camera to some surprising places, including Year 7A at Nanortalik school, who loved looking through the viewfinder.

The best hostel was definitely Nanortalik, but everywhere I stayed was good, even the couchette on the ferry.

I've been all round the southern half of this country, by jumbo jet, Dash-7, 25 seater helicopter, ferry, bus, taxi, and even pickup trucks, and walking, walking, walking... Seen glaciers and icebergs (white ones, blue ones, and dirty dying ones), museums, artists' studios, the insides of peoples' homes, internet cafes with shouting boys, schools, a baby baptised in church, a photo of a 90 year old dying woman clinging to life, children, old people, Danes, Greenlanders, tourists from Italy and Argentina, seals, crows, gulls, trees draped over rocks, arctic cotton grass and bluebells, eaten wild crowberries and reindeer lasagne, been warm enough to run out in a t-shirt and flip flops to take a photo, cold enough to wear all my thermals, but usually OK without them. It's been a fantastic trip.

Nanortalik e-mail 2

2008-12-17T00:10:00.015Z

A little bear named Nanok has been keeping me company. He is attached to the keychain of the spare key to the hostel and was hanging in the entranceway when I came in. (Nanok is Greenlandic for 'polar bear'.)

I am finding the Greenlandic cemeteries to be very photogenic. The standard burial is a white wooden cross, extraordinary in a country where wood is so precious. Although near Nanortalik there is Greenland's only proper forest. I have seen trees growing, however, draped like a shawl over the rocks, the largest about three feet across, also some growing against the houses like bushes, about four feet tall. Anyway the cemeteries are colourful with loads of plastic flowers.

I met a nice couple from Bath at the cruise ship show and they were puzzled as to what the building was there for, not realising until I explained it was the community sports centre, and used by the school, just like the leisure centres in Britain. Other amazing / amsuing / interesting comments from tourists:

I stepped off the boat and thought, this is just like the Nortwestern Territories and Yukon with the Innuit. (a Canadian)

Did you make these yourself? (traditional clothes) Now is this embroidery? (touching her leg) And is this seal? (touching her waist) These are just lovely!

Can I have a picture of you? Can I take a picture?

(in the sod hut) This is so warm! This is so cute! This is so cozy! Watch your head!

One man looked at me and said, 'Hard livin'!'

Now do you wear these all the time?

This is just such a beautiful country!

Can I just have one picture of you?

We started in Norway, and sailed up the coast, then the Faroes, then Iceland, and now here.

Can I take your picture?

Nanortalik e-mail extract

2008-12-16T23:53:00.008Z

Hi, just taking the chance to e-mail you from Nanortalik, where I am installed in a lovely little hostel surrounded by the open air museum. On Monday the town's population doubled due to the arrival of a cruise ship full of mostly Americans who went to see a show in the sports hall performed by a bunch of schoolkids doing traditional dancing, and the town choir. The whole day was kind of a surreal experience. One of the visitors thought the man in traditional costume actually lived in the reconstructed sod house until I explained that he had a very nice house in town somewhere. Niels at the tourist office has been more than helpful. He is a retired teacher and head teacher who came to the area in 1969 from Denmark and has stayed ever since. I told him today I wasn't surprised to find out he had been a teacher (he had announced it to the throng of tourists before introducing the performers). He wondered why and I said it was something about how he walked tall and held himself. Also the way he dispatched two young boys fooling around outside the tourist office might have been a giveaway ("excuse me," he said this morning and made a beeline out the door as they starting clanging on the old post box. "Los dos banditos!" he said upon returning just as swiftly. No more banging was heard.)

This internet cafe where I am writing not only has a number of kids hanging about, it is staffed by a kid struggling to keep up with the demand for hot chocolate. This building is also the radio station.

Yesterday I went for a long walk to see the Norse ruins out along one part of the coast on the other side of the bay directly opposite from where I am staying. Nanortalik is on a small island about three by four miles and the original settlement was on that part of the coast - the original 19th century settlement, that is. The weather and light were absolutely stunning on Monday and Tuesday, though it was rather windy at times. Today it is perfectly still but the fog has come on little cat feet, so a better day to shoot in black and white.

I have my own television at the hostel and the three channels are interesting. One is the Greenlandic channel, which is on air only from about 1pm to 11:30 pm and shows a mix of indigenous programmes, in Greenlandic with Danish subtitles, Danish programmes, and US or UK imports, including, bizarrely, a sort of Eurovision Let's Come Dancing hosted by the very camp Graham Norton, that must have aired on ITV sometime last year. Then there is the Hallmark channel with 'heartwarming' dramas and films, and Law and Order, in the evenings but sadly is a horrible cartoon channel the rest of the time. The third channel is Nanortalik-TV, which is a sort of continual slide show of advertisements for local services, accompanied by a Danish radio-speech channel sort of like Radio 2. Oh, and the Greenlandic TV channel turns into the test pattern plus Denmark's answer to Radio 4, I think it is called P5, all speech, news and documentaries. It also shows a clock, which is good, though I can just look out the kitchen window to see the church clock, at least during they day.

Qaqortoq e-mail extract

2008-12-16T23:41:00.008Z

Ran up hill to hostel and back, have a couple more minutes to write. The library is very nice, people can drink coffee etc. here and most of the books have been rebound in a rainbow of nice colours. School is out but then kids seem to be wandering about the place most of the time. In Nuuk the school buses run all day, not just in the morning and afternoon but all day in between, and there are always kids going somewhere, or walking alone or in groups, in the most unlikely places, like way out by the airport, past the golf course (yes, there is one here, or rather, there!)

Tomorrow I have my first Air Greenland helicopter ride. Have already found the airport, by mistake, and confirmed my flight. Helicopters only, here, as in most of the small Greenlandic settlements. I may have to break off suddenly if the lady is ready to close the library.

In Greenlandic sentences are formed by adding more and more suffixes to just a few words, so the words are extremely long in print. People tend to read by running a finger along the line under the words. The purser on the ship handed out a questionnaire (not to me, it was only in Danish + Greenlandic) and all these elderly ladies were intently studying the first page, running a finger under the words. It seemed to take them a long time to read. The Danish lady at the hostel says this is typical. I have just had the librarian photocopy and article on the Greenlandic language issue for me from a new magazine called Greenland Today, new this year in Danish and English. Very interesting.

Much of the music on the radio sounds oddly like Radio Ceredigion, the Welsh middle-of-the-road stuff. I keep wondering why they aren't singing in Welsh! I have been eating kind of a lot of salami, at breakfast every day. I think I may get some pork chops tonight, for a change. Last week I got a slab of reindeer lasagne from the freezer deli section at the Brugsen supermarket in Nuuk. It was very good, made 3 portions. Sort of a more steak like hamburger.

Extract of e-mail from Nuuk

2008-12-16T23:28:00.008Z

Today I had a lovely tour by taking the bus heading away from the city centre on the loop through the suburb where I am staying and then out past the airport to the new development and back again. Nuuk is one huge building site. I haven't seen so much construction since I lived in Toronto; in fact per capita there is probably a thousand times more construction here. Of course they can't do much in the winter... Everywhere there are new brightly coloured apartment blocks going up, and office skyscrapers of 8-10 stories, built into the solid 4 billion year old rock. Where I am staying is only two or three years old. The population of Nuuk must be bulging, also the apartment blocks from the 1960's are getting quite run down.

Today it was the same bus driver as the first day, still wearing gold reflective shades but with a different t-shirt today. I said something to him in Danish and he gave me that "Are you insane?" look I often get from people when I attempt to speak Danish. Then I pushed my own sunglasses up onto the top of my head and said something in English. He recognised me, and gave me a big smile. Today the rap music that had been playing on the last journey was replaced by country and western. At every stop he paused, so as not to get ahead of schedule, and carried on texting on his phone.

Speaking of music, the stuff they play on the radio here sounds oddly like the Welsh pop music featuring on Radio Ceredigion and for sale in good electronic goods shops everywhere: middle of the road, slightly-to-very country. Except here it's in Greenlandic.

Nuuk airport bus

2008-12-05T20:10:00.006Z

Nuuk airport

Adventure from Day 1:

Margaret emerges from Nuuk airport and locates the bus stop, and then another bus stop. Soon a bus pulls up, to the other stop, and I race over through sandy gravel, trailing my wheelie luggage. (Everyone else on the flight had wheelie luggage as well, so not all sturdy backpackers as I feared.) The bus driver says he will be back in ten minutes, and to wait at the other stop. I say OK and go back.

A Nuuk bus stop

Ten minutes later, he reappears, having gone past the airport to Nuuk's second suburb, and back again. I board. He is wearing a blue Manchester United t-shirt and yellow reflecting shades. I am wearing a down puffa jacket covered in fake fur. We stare at each other. 'You have to put the coins there,' he says at last, indicating the stand in front of me, 'and then pull on the lever to get the ticket.'

'Where are you going in Greenland?' he asks, and when I tell him I am starting by staying four days in Nuuk, he says, 'Oh, don´t do that! Why would you want to do that? Nuuk is terrible. You want to go up north, and go dog sledding.' Meanwhile I am being driven past brilliantly coloured apartment blocks backed by spectacular mountains, all glowing in brilliant sunshine the likes of which I haven't seen in Britain, even in June. 'I don't know,' I say. 'It looks pretty nice here!'

Each bus stop in Nuuk has a handy individual number that co-ordinates with the bus route map.

Margaret's itinerary

2008-12-05T00:15:00.010Z

This page will contain a list of places I went to.

For starters, the bare bones:

London - Copenhagen (overnight in airport) - Kangerlussuaq (transfer) - Nuuk (4 nights) - coastal ferry (4 nights) landing at: Sisimiut - Aasiaat - Ilulissat - Aasiaat - Sisimiut - Nuuk - Qaqortoq (3 nights) - Nanortalik (7 nights) - Narsarssuaq (4 nights) - Copenhagen (overnight in airport) - London

Flights were with Sterling Air (defunct the month after I returned) and Air Greenland.

More details:

To London by National Express coach.
Flew from Gatwick (home of the charter airlines).
Decided ahead of time to spend the night in Copenhagen's Kastrup Airport, due to late arrival time / early morning departure.
Flew Air Greenland to Kangerlussuaq. Nuuk, although the capital, does not have enough flat land for an airstrip large enough to accommodate jumbo jets, so international flights arrive at Kangerlussuaq, a former US air base at the head of a long fjord about an hour's flight north of Nuuk. My transfer to Dash-7 plane lasted less than an hour.
Arrived at Nuuk airport a little after noon and caught the city bus to the tourist information centre, near the colonial harbour. Got a booking for a bed and breakfast in one of the suburbs, and ended up getting a lift there in the tourist office pickup truck. Four nights in Nuuk. Activities included walking, forward trip planning, bus tour, visiting Nuuk's beaches, cemeteries, harbours, shopping, cafes, arts centre. Oh, and photography!
Taxi to harbour to catch AUL coastal ferry. 4 nights on ferry in couchette (4 beds in shared room).

more to come...

Greenland links

2008-12-05T00:14:00.007Z

This page will contain some useful links about Greenland.

KNR, the Greenlandic National Broadcasting Company
Greenland.com, the main tourism site
Greenland Guide, an older website but with free e-postcards to send
BBC country profile of Greenland, for basic facts and figures
Greenland home rule (government) page. Yes, Greenland is part of the Kingdom of Denmark, and this is the Danish home rule government.

2008-12-05T00:11:00.032Z

I will be writing my entries as they occur to me. But on this page I will gather them together and order them chronologically... because some people really do like stories that start 'at the beginning'.

Narratives:

Photo galleries:

Other pages related to my trip:

Other pages related to things polar:

Margaret Sharrow in Greenland homepage

2008-11-29T15:19:00.008Z

Welcome to my blog website about my travels in Greenland. I am an artist currently finishing a B.A. in fine art at the Aberystwyth University School of Art. Last August and September I went on a funded trip to experience and record the Greenlandic landscape, having won a Geoffrey Crawshay Memorial Travelling Scholarship from the University of Wales . This blog will include narratives from my travels, photographs, works in my portfolio that have come out of this journey, and links and information about this enormous/tiny news-topical/little-known country.

For more general information about my art practice, including my current exhibitions, please visit my portfolio website (sharrow.mosaicglobe.com) and my artist's blog (http://www.margaretsharrow.blogspot.com/). You can also see my work at Saatchi Online, Flickr and Facebook.

Margaret Sharrow in Greenland

Greenland blog 19: A tale of one ferry

Greenland blog 18: Happy in Hamborgerland

Greenland blog 17: a snapshot of industry

Greenland blog 16: Maniitsoq - life on the edge

Greenland blog 15: Dawn on deck

Greenland blog 14: arts centre med kaffemik

Greenland blog 13: frantic construction and quiet hygge in Nuuk

Greenland blog 12: experiencing Ultima Thule via the telephone directory

Greenland blog 11: a fascination with cemeteries

Greenland blog 10: humanity and nature

Greenland blog 09: Time in Timerlia

Greenland blog 08: Housing old and new

Greenland blog 07: Colonial legacies

Greenland blog 06: the inland icecap - time to adjust my sense of scale

Greenland blog 05: On Greenlandic airports, or, what to do in an emergency

Greenland blog 04: Scrum in the fjord

Greenland blog 03: aerial perspectives

Greenland blog 02: How my art took me to Greenland, and a Danish tongue twister

Vote for Margaret Sharrow to create ULTIMATE STILLNESS at the North Pole!

Greenland blog 02: How my art took me to Greenland, and a Danish tongue twister

Greenland blog 01: Flying high to Greenland

Greenland blog archive (new entries)

Why I want to go to the North Pole: the full story

Vote for Margaret Sharrow to create ULTIMATE STILLNESS at the North Pole!

'Qaqortoq' published by Gwasg Oriel Press

Review: Per Kirkeby at Tate Modern & 'The Accessible Arctic' exhibition at Canada House, London

Still on my mind

Greenland and Wales - Margaret Sharrow's Erwood show - general views

Margaret Sharrow - a solo exhibition of images of Greenland and Wales

Greenland - Travels in an Amazing Place: a lunchtime talk by Margaret Sharrow

Sisimiut views

Alternative photographic processes portfolio

Digital art photography portfolio

Nuuk's colonial harbour

Flying in to Kangerlussuaq

Nuuk apartment blocks

Nuuk cemeteries

A word on cameras

What (Not) to Wear in Greenland

A radio programme of interest to those who love the Arctic

Just touching down at Kangerlussuaq

Greenlandic breakfasts

Leaving Greenland

Languages in Greenland

On the Up: Helicopters

end of trip summary e-mail

Nanortalik e-mail 2

Nanortalik e-mail extract

Qaqortoq e-mail extract

Extract of e-mail from Nuuk

Nuuk airport bus

Margaret's itinerary

Greenland links

Table of Contents

Margaret Sharrow in Greenland homepage