Gronland

Every morning we start out work by sifting through a fabulous amount of documents, calendars, emails and project allocations. The task lasted until noon today as we are coming upon another busy flight week and so many crinkles and bumps in our information technology needed addressing so we can all be on the same page about so many scientists and field camp workers, their logistics and inventory. It is a humbling call to be a part of a so small group of people who are largely responsible for making research in Greenland possible. It is too easy to get caught up in the dust of the warehouse or the whirring of the hard drive, the declaration of hazardous material's, the counting of sleeping bags and insulated boot liners to recall the true objective; help create an environment at such and such place that is conducive to data collection, food preparation, radio comms and warm safe sleep.
The work of these researchers astounds me. A research scientist must not only go routinely into the challenge of the deep field, but are at home, professors actively teaching and lecturing while raising families, planning expeditions and always, applying for grants, posting web sites, publishing papers. I could dedicate all of my free time, which isn't much here, to pouring over their works. Inspired by their noble struggles for a better global acknowledgement of the importance of there studies, mostly concerning all aspects of climate change, they work for at least some acceptance, if only a small rise in the level of public understanding of what we are all up against in our undoubtedly dramatic future of incredibly awesome, very frightening, definately life changing global cimate flux.
The draw back is that it is difficult to integrate oneself into this already tiny, non traditional, airport worker community. I could start to play indoor soccer with the women's team, but I would much rather hike or ride bikes with Steve. I think baby sitting for a mom with children between the ages of 4 and 12 would be a great way to learn Inuit and Danish, but that's a weird boundary to try and cross with total strangers. We are meeting Danes who work here, some have become lifers, and they are very kind and patient with my Danish, but, are naturally, insulated from the true Greenlandic culture
I read in a tourist magazine, which are always printed in three languages, Greenlandic, Danish and English, that there are 10 golden rules to being a visitor in Greenland:
1. show respect 2. Behave as you would at your own home town 3. Talk with rather than about the people you meet. Try it! 4. Respect peoples private lives (property boundaries) 5. Ask permission before taking a photo. Hesitation means NO! 6. Cairns are trail markers, road signs. Do not disturb 7. Do not litter 8.Only camp in towns proper where it is allowed 9. participate in community life 10. Don't approach dogs. They are working animals not pets.
So I am forging ahead with my attempts to make conversation, at least in Danish to begin with. I want to talk specifically with the women about there lives here in this funny modern town. What settlement did they come from? Do they miss it? Do they enjoy working security at the airport? I want to ask the teenagers about their cell phones and punk rock accessories, what kind of music do they like, do they like school? Are they interested in science, do they ever go skiing, dog sledding, hunting?
In the setting sun of this evening's after diner stroll I watch a small girl slide down the playground slide. She screams with effervescent joy. A boy plays with a soccer ball demonstrating talent. A group of children nearby pull at things that are still frozen somewhat into the ground but are becoming very loose, like wiggling a baby tooth that wants to give. They cannot see me for I am standing in the rays of the last slanted light. Their laughter and play talk is so familiar, almost a memory. They play unmonitored by any adults or teenage siblings. I do not need any translation, nor would one suffice, for the meaning of their happiness.