The jet’s wheels touched down on schedule, bringing us back to solid ground. A little part of me always breathes a sigh of relief as rubber meets the runway. Through the window lay a territory even further off the beaten path than the rugged Iceland we had just left. For reasons I didn’t understand, I had wanted to visit Greenland for years. Maybe it was simply to verify the silly saying “Iceland is green and Greenland is icy,” implying they were misnamed. They both can have significant amounts of ice, but it does seem to me that Iceland is greener than Greenland. Things like grass, shrubs, and trees help add color to a landscape, and Greenland is more challenged in that regard than is Iceland. More than caring about the quantity of green in Greenland, I wanted to visit it because I’d not yet been there. It was, for me, unexplored territory.
When landing on the east side of the country as we did, the arrival airport is a single runway, behind a tiny building located on a small island. A village of about 200 people lives over the hill from the airport, accessible by traveling an unpaved road. Because of this location, after arriving travelers generally take a ten-minute helicopter ride to the mainland where a larger village of about 2000 people awaits. I suppose there are reasons that planes don’t fly ten minutes further and touch down on the mainland, but no one explained the rationale to us. We were just excited to arrive at the airport, and equally eager to leave on the helicopter in order to reach our ultimate destination.
Despite what you might suspect, flight delays aren’t reserved for crowded airports like O’Hare or Newark. Even the smaller ones can keep you waiting for a while. Perhaps that is part of a sacred airport oath that every outfit takes before receiving its first flight. Maybe they just enjoy our company and can’t bear to see us go. Even though it was only to be a ten-minute flight, our helicopter arrived an hour late. That gave me time to people gaze, and to wonder about the group of Germans who were waiting for the flight after ours. What was their story? What brought them here? Were they curious about the ice vs. green debate too? There was also a local man in the waiting area, returning home after a trip abroad. He struck up conversations with various ones of us, demonstrating his knowledge about local history and customs. While we kept watch on the clock, he was unconcerned about his flight’s delayed departure – his father could send a boat for him if necessary, or he could stay with relatives in the village.
Our moment of departure finally arrived. As ten of us stuffed ourselves into the back of the chopper, the pilot gave a safety briefing. It ended with, “I’m going to try to get you to your destination, but fog is settling in. If I can’t see to land, I will have to bring you back.” We crossed our fingers and tried to ignore the knot that formed in our stomachs when we heard that news.
As we lifted off we were treated to an aerial view of cragged mountains, blue water, and floating ice, all of which made for a spectacular view. And, clouds and fog dotted the horizon. Our chances of arrival seemed iffy at best. Seven or eight minutes into the flight, we circled around the inlet beneath us. Was this to give a photo op for the scenery or to change directions? Pretty soon it was obvious. We were turning around. Based on the density of the fog just beyond the next set of mountains, it was no wonder.
Disappointment seeped in the moment as we realized we would be denied reaching our ultimate destination, at least on that day. That happens sometimes. At least we had made it to Greenland. That was a start; but how did we sort out this inconvenience?
As we landed, a bit of uncertainty crowded my thinking. Where do we stay tonight? This isn’t a big city with multiple lodging options located just beyond the airport’s perimeter. There is supposedly one small hotel somewhere on this island but what if it is full? Where will we find a hot meal for dinner? The little restaurant at the airport sold out of four of the five items on its menu earlier in the afternoon. We could be dining on crackers and granola bars stashed in our carry-on luggage. At least we wouldn’t go hungry.
One positive thing about traveling with a group arranged by a tour company is that those questions are their problems to solve. My part is to roll with the surprises and make the best of things. What happened next was an impressive response.
Apparently when the pilot radioed that we were returning to the airport, the tour company was notified. They, in turn, contacted the hotel. The fact they had a contract with them and our group was to return there in three nights probably didn’t hurt. They immediately assigned rooms to our group. A van pulled up to transport us to the hotel within 5 minutes of our return to the airport. When we arrived at the front door of the hotel, they were already preparing a meal of vegetable soup and fresh bread especially for us. We would sleep that night in a warm hotel room with appetites sufficiently satisfied.
It seemed like we jumped ahead of the German group. They were already sitting in the hotel lobby when we arrived but were unable to get rooms until after we were settled. And, there wasn’t room for all of them. Back home in the U.S., at least at large airports, you would be left to your own devices in a case like that. Not here. The good folks of Kulusuk, Greenland farmed out as many of the remaining stranded passengers as they could to local homes in the area. But even that wasn’t enough room to accommodate all the passengers. The remaining six individuals were given sleeping bags at the airport and provided with a meal.
The hospitality of this place and the ease with which it kicked into action was amazing. With an efficiency that far surpassed what might be expected, they made sure we all were accommodated for the night. I commented on how impressive this was, to which they shrugged their shoulders and said, “Eh, it happens all the time.” Just like that, we were all settled and cared for for the night.
I contrast that with our experience in Newark a few days later on our journey home. We arrived early and processed easily through immigration. Our connecting plane arrived early as well. It looked as though it would be a seamless flight home. Only it wasn’t. When departure time arrived, we had no crew. By the time we had a crew, we no longer had a plane. After an aircraft from an incoming flight from Philadelphia was assigned to us, it promptly remained on the ground in the city of Brotherly Love, delayed 4 ½ hours due to mechanical problems. The snags and snafus mounted. Fifteen gate changes and nearly six hours late, we finally departed after 12 hours between connections. One positive result of the ordeal is that we walked over 5.5 miles during the course of the gate changes. For a day filled with sitting and waiting, we managed a good amount exercise. We arrived in Indianapolis at 2:30 a.m. rather than the originally scheduled 8:18 p.m. Fortunately, our most excellent shuttle driver came back to pick us up within 20 minutes of our retrieving our luggage. She dropped us at our front door at 4:30 a.m. In my younger years that might have seemed like the end of a good night out, but not so much at this point! In the duration of that waiting game, we were given minimal updates and electronic links to vouchers that might entice us to go elsewhere or seek alternatives. In some ways, that was an efficient effort to provide but it was mostly devoid of human contact and left us to our own devices.
Though the options and resources were greater in Newark, we seemed better cared for in Greenland. The next day as we reassembled at the Kulusuk airport hoping for clear skies (which we had!) the would-be passengers were all recognizable from the previous day. We heard stories of how and where their evening had been spent. Each of the accounts echoed with the theme of hospitality. We were strangers and they took us in.
Remembering the experience, I still sense the appreciation felt toward those who worked to address our crisis. I feel the relief of knowing we had a comfortable place to sleep. And I am nudged to wonder aloud about the power of hospitality to make a noticeable difference in the world’s dilemmas.
Greenland struck me as a harsh environment to call home. Many resources are imported and can be scarce at times. I wonder if, perhaps, the lifestyle there influences the response we experienced? When you know what it is like to be in want, or can remember what a difference a helping hand can make, perhaps you are quicker to step up when opportunity knocks. Having been there before you know it could happen again. Does mutual interdependence heighten the commitment to hospitality? If so, even though I don’t relish the idea, perhaps we would all benefit from a little more disruption and hardship to remind us that foggy nights aren’t all bad!
