Greenland, 1872

Phileas Fogg, Greenland, 1872

As I sit here, scribbling my thoughts into my leather-bound journal, I find myself in the icy climes of Greenland, a land far removed from the bustling streets of London that I'm so accustomed to. My journey has brought me to this untamed wilderness, a place that stands in stark contrast to the predictable, punctual life I lead.

Greenland, the world's largest island, not counting the whole of Australia, is a bastion of nature in its most primal form. It is bound by the ruthless Arctic to the North and the vast Atlantic to the East. Its western shores look out upon Baffin Bay, while the Denmark Strait marks its southern boundary, a waterway as tumultuous as the terrain itself.

The landscape, a sweeping vista of icy white, is punctuated by the grandeur of rugged mountains, their peaks concealed within the clutches of perennial snow. Glaciers carve their way through these harsh mountains, leading to the sea, where they calve off as towering icebergs. It's a spectacle of nature's power that I'm privileged to witness, even though it is far from the comforts of civilized life.

A remarkable feature of this land is the ever-changing conditions of the ice cap that covers it. It's called the Inland Ice, a colossal sheet of ice that holds a frigid beauty. At its edges, one can find rushing rivers of meltwater, their flow fast and turbulent, indicating the summer's fleeting influence on this Arctic realm.

And the populace? Greenland is sparsely inhabited, with small settlements scattered along its coastal periphery. The Inuit people, resilient in the face of the harshest winters, have survived and thrived here for centuries. They hold a deep respect for nature, their livelihoods intertwined with the very essence of this land. They rely on hunting and fishing, adapting to the season's caprice with admirable determination.

One should also mention the ethereal spectacle of the Aurora Borealis that dances across the night sky, painting it with hues of green, blue, and sometimes red. It is a celestial ballet that the darkness of the Arctic night proudly hosts.

Indeed, Greenland is a realm far removed from the orderly life I am familiar with. It is a testament to the untamed, unyielding power of nature. It is a place of stunning beauty and challenging terrain, where survival demands adaptability. As I continue my journey, I will carry with me a deep respect for this land and its people.

Sincerely,

Phileas Fogg

Passepartout, Greenland, 1872

Oh là là, this Greenland, I tell you! It's nothing like back home in Paris, or even in the comforting routine of the Fogg residence in London. Cold? It's not just cold, monsieur, it's freezing! The ice is so vast, it makes the Seine in winter look like a warm bath. The sea is peppered with iceberths so large they could be their own islands!

We've settled here in a little coastal town, just a scattering of wooden huts really, where the Inuit people live. They seem to find my French accent rather amusing, and my attempts at their language even more so! But they are warm-hearted folks, considering they live in such cold conditions. Their daily routine is simple, dictated by the rise and fall of the sun, the coming and going of the seasons.

Fishing and hunting, monsieur, that's how they survive. I even joined them on a seal hunting expedition one day - a harrowing adventure, I assure you! One moment, I was standing on a seemingly sturdy ice floe, the next, I was knee-deep in freezing water, flailing my arms about. But luckily, an Inuit fellow, stronger than he looked, pulled me out. Now, I have become somewhat of a local legend, the clumsy foreigner who tried to swim with the seals!

And then there's the food - nothing like our refined French cuisine, but I've grown to appreciate the fresh fish and seal meat. You've not lived until you've tried whale blubber - trust me, it's a unique experience!

And oh, the Northern Lights! Words can't describe their beauty. It's like being inside one of Monsieur Monet's paintings - colours swirling across the sky, as if dancing to music only they can hear.

Despite the harsh weather and the cold, life here has a simplicity that's rather endearing. But don't worry, monsieur, I'm not trading my waistcoat for seal skins just yet!

Au revoir,

Passepartout

Aouda, Greenland, 1872

Namaste,

Here I am, in Greenland, a place as far from my homeland as one could possibly imagine. The stark contrasts are evident - the relentless heat of India replaced by the unforgiving cold of this Arctic realm. Yet, there is a sense of tranquility, an austere beauty in the silent dance of the icebergs, the whispering winds, and the ever-changing palette of the sky.

I am struck by the resilience of the Inuit people. There is a harmony that exists between them and their environment, a symbiotic relationship that has evolved over centuries. They lead a life of simplicity, but one that is rich in traditions, stories, and an intimate understanding of their land.

While I've always valued the opulence of Indian palaces, there is a humble beauty in their wooden huts, adorned with intricately carved bone and ivory objects that depict animals, spirits, and stories of their ancestors. Their clothing, fashioned from seal and reindeer skins, is as functional as it is beautiful - each stitch, each pattern telling a story, reflecting the life of the person who made it.

The modern world has started to leave its mark here, too. Traders come with their goods from Europe and America, bringing items the Inuit people have never seen before. Iron tools, rifles, even canned foods have started to make their way into the homes and lives of these people. With them come new opportunities but also new challenges. The Inuit adapt, as they have done for centuries, but there is a palpable change in their way of life.

However, what leaves a profound impression on me is their sense of community. There is an inherent sense of mutual assistance and cooperation, so essential for survival in such harsh conditions. They share the hunt's spoils, they celebrate together, and they weather the hardships of their environment as one.

Women here play a vital role. They not only manage the household but also contribute to the community by preparing the catch, crafting clothes and tools, and passing down their rich cultural heritage to the next generation. I find a certain parallel here to my own Indian culture, where the women, despite the societal norms, play a powerful, albeit often unrecognised, role in shaping society.

Greenland may be a realm of ice and snow, but within its people, there burns a warm spirit of resilience, community, and adaptability that the modern world could learn from.

Yours sincerely,

Aouda