| | Christmastime in Masset. There's a pine tree out by Cemetery Beach that the hospital staff sort of "adopted" as its own. As you'd expect from a community that respects nature and revels in the beauty year-round (it is the main draw out here, getting away from such things like chain stores and restaurants and traffic lights), instead of chopping down a perfectly good and healthy tree just to lug it home and dress up the dying foliage with tinsel and bits of plastic and metal, only to toss the lot into a shredder the next day, they actually go out themselves to the tree and celebrate:
It also gets the dogs out too:
I think Masset's a great place to be a dog. You (ie a dog) can go around leash-free, and the people being all nature-lovers they'll feel guilty if they don't take you out for walks, so you don't have to worry being locked in all the time. There's lots of beaches to run around on:
And there's lots of other dogs to play around with:
And deer heads - apparently dogs are all over deer heads when they find them on the beach:
My preceptor and his wife have a Talhtan Bear Dog, named Tooya:
It's one of a handful of breeds native to Canada. You probably know about Labradors, Eskimo Dogs, and maybe the Nova Scotia Duck-Tolling Retriever - you can tell by the names whereabouts in the country they're from. The Talhtan Bear Dog is named for the Talhtan natives of northwest BC who raised them; they're not a bear-dog hybrid (I thought that at first, like a liger or a tigon), but dogs actually raised to hunt bears. They're extinct according to Wikipedia, but if you know whom to ask around here, you can find one. You'll recognise them by their dark coats and pointy fox-like ears.
Pretty tough to face up a bear, but very people-friendly too - every time I've met Tooya, she always comes up and puts her paw on my foot, like a handshake. Until now I was never sure if I would be a cat or a dog person, but I'm pretty sure someday I'd like to have a dog like that. I'd love to now, but I don't think I'm ready for that kind of commitment. I can't even bring myself to getting a plant for my apartment yet. Much less figure out how to get into one of those "relationships" things I've heard so much about and seem to keep missing the sign-up list for.
Being an island I don't think there were any dogs indigenous to Masset and the Queen Charlottes, and there wasn't any mention of the Haida natives using dogs, but according to the display at the Haida Heritage Centre most of their diet is seafood and fruits and such, not so much game that would need dogs for baiting and hunting. In fact the deer that are on the island were introduced from the mainland just recently (ie the 1800s or so).
The Haida Heritage Centre officially opens next summer, but you can already visit now. It's on the Skidegate reserve, right in the heart of the Haida homeland - unlike most museums and galleries in Canada (and around the world, I guess), instead of taking artefacts away from their natural environments (and their people) to put them in faraway display cases for others to see, the focus here is repatriation, and interpretation right where the pieces are supposed to be.
Woodworking small and large has artistic and practical significance. There's weaving
and bentwood boxes
which have more in common with modern-day plastics than wood - instead of cutting and assembling boards into boxes, you take a single plank, notch the inside, and heat it up over hot rocks so you can bend it into the sides of the chest. Like this:
Being an island people, boats and paddles go without saying
and with the lush forestry around, tree trunks small and large make totems
The poles are a signature part of Haida architecture, fronting each longhouse, which are also signature of Haida design. The Heritage Centre itself recreates the form of a traditional waterfront village:
Some of the houses on the reserve today have their own poles too:
In fact, when you walk around the reserve you see that Haida culture and language are alive and well - a far cry from the stereotypical third-world-like depressed and forgotten parcels of land First Nations were sentenced to in the 17-1800s. There's street signs
local business
and most importantly - children (or at least evidence thereof - there happened not to be any when I stopped by)
and a school to keep language and culture (for they go hand in hand, you can't have one without the other) alive
Apparently the language school is open to everyone, Haida and non-Haida alike - another measure of a culture's vitality, whether or not it's within grasp of "outsiders". Especially working with stoic, skeptical elders, learning the language can open doors. Even if others remain forever closed, like at the Skidegate cemetery - no non-residents allowed, and no photography
In fact, aside from the federal-standard post office box module
the town probably wouldn't be too unfamiliar to its residents' ancestors
Even the long, shallow lines of the BC Ferries ships at the terminal nearby recall the lines of traditional Haida canoes
More photos on the 111-skidegate album. I wonder what the feeling's like, of living on one's "motherland", where everywhere you look and everything you touch, feel, smell, you knew your parents, and their parents before them, and so on, also experienced themselves. What does that sense of history feel like? To be grounded... to be "home".
Maybe it's how I felt coming back to Victoria - catching the last flight off the island before Christmas
delayed 'til nightfall, but in time to escape another 100mm of rain and 100km/h winds, and transfer to a weird rectangular-shaped airplane, with huge ceiling to seat windows
and sliding doors to the cockpit
landing at a newly-renovated Victoria terminal
and riding in a new Prius taxi!
Not only environmentally-friendly, but with the electric motor output display and the on-the-fly fuel consumption calculator, entertaining. Step on the gas, it shoots up briefly to ~20L/100km, before settling down at cruise to 0. Zero consumption! Damn! I've never been in one before: quiet electric motor + tight suspension + Victoria's butter-smooth roads (temperate weather = no potholes, ever!) = feeling like riding a private light-rail train. With leather seats! Lucky it was a good ride, because the fare's fifty dollars airport-Downtown.
Just a quick one-night stopover before going back home home Mum and Dad's for Christmas the next day. Finally cashed in my frequent diner stamp card at The Noodle Box - where the defining taste of med school was Cambodiana, in residency it would be the Singapore Cashew Curry (mild-plus heat, with tofu)
Stopped by the best bookstore anywhere, with the best bargain books collection anywhere - Munro's on Government Street, with its legendary Special Values shelves
and finally a quick walk 'round the Inner Harbour
After that pricey taxi ride the night before, taking the bus would be equally environmentally-friendly but a bit easier on the wallet
and up, up and away
powered on "Jet Fuel Rocket Chips / Destination chili-citron Grignotises qui donnent des ailes"
Whoopee, all of 14g! At least crappy airline snacks will make home-cooked Christmas feasts all the more yummy and satifying. Wonder what Mum and Dad are cooking up tonight. Kind of the traditional Christmas greeting 'round my place, I guess - "Merry Christmas! So what's for dinner?"
And to you, too - Merry Christmas! (What's for dinner?) |
| | Posted 12/24/2007 9:45 PM - 67 Views - 0 eProps - 0 comments
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