Adventures in Greenland
Discovering the wonders of the most sparsely populated country in the Arctic
Before visiting Greenland, I had a fairly superficial idea of what it might be like. Greenland, I thought. Stark, white expanses…giant icebergs floating in frigid water. In reality, Greenland is so much more, as I discovered during a week-long trip for work.
Although it has the lowest population density of any country in the world, Greenland has more than 60 communities. The capital, Nuuk, is home to nearly 20,000 people, along with large supermarkets, restaurants with global cuisine, and boutique shops. Due to Danish influence, there is a palpable European feel, particularly in the downtown core.
At the same time, Nuuk is distinctly Greenlandic. Today, 88% of Greenland’s population is Greenlandic Inuit or mixed Danish-Inuit. Walking the streets of Nuuk, one might expect to hear Danish or English. However, the sole official language in Greenland is Kalaallisut, an Inuit language spoken by the majority of Greenland’s population. Menus in Nuuk include traditional dishes like muskox, reindeer, and seal.
In colder months, residents of Nuuk (and Greenland in general) wear hand-knit items made from qiviut, the soft undercoat of muskox. In fact, these garments are so prominent and so uniquely Greenlandic that I can pinpoint who in my community has visited Greenland based on their qiviut accessories.
During my time in Nuuk, I visited Nunatta Katersugaasivia Allagaateqarfialu, the Greenland National Museum & Archives. There, I learned about Greenlandic Inuit culture, including kalaallisuut — the Greenlandic “national costume.” Today, this elaborate regalia is reserved for special occasions, such as baptisms, the first day of school, and weddings. The complexity of the kalaallisuut is astounding. Each “costume” is composed of several individual pieces, including an outer jacket (anorak), inner jacket (timmiaq) sealskin shorts, tall sealskin boots (kamik), and a beaded collar. Every piece is handmade using traditional techniques.
While in Nuuk, my colleagues and I visited Kittat, a small workshop owned and operated by Inuit seamstresses. Their aim is to revive traditional sewing and garment-making techniques that were lost when Denmark colonized Greenland in the 18th century. The seamstresses and beaders at Kittat create kalaallisuut that are available for rental, as most people in the community don’t have their own.
During our visit, we were given the opportunity to try on kalaallisuut. In the photo below, one can truly appreciate the minute details of this regalia.
The beaded collar is handmade by threading tiny seed beads onto a needle, carefully matching the colors to create an intricate pattern row by row. The sealskin shorts and kamik are made using different types of sealskin. The shorts are made using the entire sealskin pelt. Meanwhile, the bright white leather used for kamik is made by hand-scraping a sealskin hide, soaking it in a solution to minimize yellowing, then stretching and drying the hide in a cold, dry place.
The sealskin shorts and kamik are both decorated with colorful geometric patterns that are created using tiny squares of hand-painted sealskin leather. Each minuscule square is hand-cut and sewn into the surrounding fabric. Beaded cuffs, fabric details, and hand-made lace complete the look.
The amount of work that goes into creating a finished kalaallisuut is dizzying; each step is incredibly labor-intensive. I felt honored and humbled to be in the presence of such masterful artists and to wear the physical embodiment of their passion and dedication.
After three days in Nuuk, my colleagues and I journeyed south. The west coast of Southern Greenland is dotted with tiny communities scattered throughout a system of convoluted fiords. Inter-community ferries operate during months when the water is free, or nearly free, of ice. We took a scenic two-hour ride from Narsarsuaq (the main travel hub in the south) to the small town of Qaqortoq.
I spent two days in charming Qaqortoq, during which time my colleagues and I toured Great Greenland, the country’s only commercial sealskin tannery. As in Nunavut, seals are an essential resource for Greenlanders. Inuit hunters harvest seals for food (a nutritious source of protein that is high in iron, magnesium, zinc, and B12) and for pelts, which are used to make incredibly warm, water-resistant clothing ideal for Greenland’s Arctic climate. Great Greenland purchases pelts from Inuit hunters, then processes them at their facility in Qaqortoq to create high-quality, commercially tanned sealskins. The company employs a group of in-house seamstresses, who create accessories such as mitts, bags, and hats for purchase.
As someone who lives in the Arctic, I can attest to the fact that there is nothing warmer than sealskin mitts in -50-degree weather. I wouldn’t trust anything else to keep my fingers safe from frostbite. Visiting Great Greenland provided valuable insight into how a large-scale sealskin tannery operates successfully in an Arctic country.
After our visit to Great Greenland, I had some free time in Qaqortoq, which I used to wander around the breathtaking town and dine at a Thai restaurant with some uniquely Greenlandic specialties.
When it came time to depart Qaqortoq, I readied myself for the ferry back to Narsarsuaq. However, there was a last-minute change in plans. Just before the ferry was scheduled to leave, it was revealed that there weren’t enough seats.
I would be taking a helicopter instead.
Due to the inhospitable terrain in Greenland, it is impossible to travel between communities by land. Air Greenland, the country’s only airline, serves many communities with commercial aircraft and propeller planes. Sometimes, though, helicopters are used to transfer small groups of people between two nearby towns.
I had never ridden in a helicopter before, and truthfully, I had no desire to do so in my lifetime. Despite being an avid traveler, I have severe flight anxiety. I deeply dislike planes, so the idea of flying in what I considered to be a glorified drone was terrifying.
When our flight to Narsarsuaq was announced, I reluctantly followed other passengers to the helipad. The bright red Air Greenland helicopter sat with its blades whirring, creating a deafening noise and kicking up snow from the ground.
I boarded and was greeted by a surprisingly roomy interior. I sat down by the window (a strategic choice — seeing what’s happening outside helps me stay calm when I fly) and buckled myself in. The pilot handed each passenger a pair of yellow sound-proof headphones. Everyone put them on immediately, and I followed suit. After a brief safety demonstration, the captain closed the cockpit door.
I braced myself as the whirring of the propeller quickened, making the helicopter vibrate. I closed my eyes and waited for the familiar feeling of being lifted into the air. It never came. I opened my eyes, looked down, and, to my complete and utter shock, realized we were already off the ground.
Before I knew it, the pilot coaxed the machine forward and we were hovering over the bay. I must have looked terrified because several fellow passengers gave me encouraging smiles.
Our flight departed just after sunset. Everything around us was bathed in soft, pink light. The dark blue sea was smooth as glass, juxtaposed against tall, snowy mountains jutting from the earth. My muscles began to relax as my fear was replaced by sheer awe.
My eyes were glued to the window the entire time, except for a brief moment when I glanced at the other passengers to see their reactions. To my surprise, folks were chatting amongst themselves — some even napping. I couldn’t imagine this being part of someone’s daily life, but for many of these people, it was reality.
The view from the helicopter provided a perspective I didn’t even know was possible. Every picture I took looked like something out of National Geographic, and all I had was an iPhone.
We were in the air for 25 minutes. They were the most visually spectacular minutes of my life.
That unexpected helicopter ride perfectly encompassed how I felt about my trip to Greenland as a whole: surprising, magnificent, powerful, a once-in-a-lifetime gift. I know it is unlikely that I will travel to Greenland again. If I am honest, this piece is as much a way to keep my memories as it is an effort to pull back the curtain on a place that is, for many of us, unknown.
If you get the opportunity to visit Greenland, don’t hesitate. Take it. I promise, you will be thanking yourself for the rest of your life.
Author Note: In Inuit culture, “seamstress” is a standard word used to describe someone who works with animal skins and fabrics.
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