Tasiilaq is a small town (pop.2000), quite isolated, but the largest settlement in East Greenland. The east coast of Greenland is closed in by ice for more of the year than is the west coast . . . but the future of this is unknown as the arctic warms. Leading from the quay there are some tarmac roads in the centre of the town, with dirt roads elsewhere; but there are no roads leading out from the town to other places - to reach other Greenland towns you have to use a boat (but not when ice-locked) or a plane from the town's airstrip. There is little employment - some cruise tourism during summer months ("We've had seven ships this year", I was told proudly; in Kirkwall I was told that we were the 195th of the season); some dog-sledding for tourists when the snow comes; some craft sales from gifted Inuit carvers of bone and ivory, or traditional makers of gloves, footwear, etc, from sealskin or reindeer hide. There is subsistence fishing, but no export infrastructure. There is huge dependence on welfare from the Danish state.
But the town looks neat and well cared-for:
The Lutheran church is perched quite high in the centre of the town:
We were there on a Sunday and saw many people walking to church, quite early in the morning, dressed in white or in national costume. We discovered that there was a confirmation service happening. Some of my fellow passengers went into the church and sat through some or all of the service; they also took photos of people in national costume . . . I didn't feel comfortable with either of those, but others reported that they were welcomed warmly. National costume is a development of traditional dress, modified by European influence and modern materials (such as glass beads). These aren't my images:
It may be small and isolated, but the town has a sense of its place in the polar region!
One of my dinner-table companions told us that evening that she had seen an apparently Scandinavian woman pushing a buggy containing two apparently Inuit toddlers . . . she stopped to speak to her, and the 'apparents' turned out to be correct. This was a Danish woman, three months into a four year contract working in the orphanages of Tasiilaq. She used to work with refugee children in Denmark, but there are fewer jobs in that field since policy changes in relation to refugees . . . orphanages, plural? There are two in this very small town, caring for around 100 children, out of a population of 2000 . . . it seems there is a lot of depression, un- and under-employment, and a massive problem of alcohol misuse. All the dark, northern countries have issues with alcohol; here, combined with isolation and lack of meaningful activity, it leads to adults, of the age to be parenting young children, drinking themselves to death or taking their own lives. Spirits are prohibited, but beer is a sufficient hazard.
This is a sobering (no pun intended) tale for such a beautiful place. Many of us took the walk out of town towards the mountains along the Flower Valley; we were blessed with a clear, warm, sunny day. The walk took us past the town's cemetery:
And past the edge-of-town dog pound and campsite. The Greenland Dog is a distinct breed, not a 'husky'. However, they are sled dogs, and are used both for regular local transport in winter, and for tourist activities. The bloodline of these working dogs is fiercely protected.
The abundant flora were a delight. Arctic willow (first image); orchids in abundance (second and sixth images), arctic dandelion (protected from the cold by a hairy outer layer - third and seventh images); familiar harebells (central image); the ubiquitous northern cotton grass (final image) . . . and many more.
Returning later to the ship, the whole mountainside is now clear and fog-free:
And I spent some time on deck, exploring the varieties of ice on the ship's neighbouring tabular berg:
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