Finally, I have a moment of peace in which to write an entry. This week, I'm in Dawson City. Don't know where Dawson is? Well, look at a map of Yukon Territory. Find Whitehorse (near the bottom). Now, follow the highway north for about five hundred kilometres and you'll find Dawson. It's not very big, and it practically shuts down in the winter, but it's a beautiful place full of incredible history. It was first the fishing site of the Tr'ondek Hwech'in (People of the River) and then the home of the Klondike (a terrible mispronounciation of Tr'ondek) Goldrush. Gold was discovered in 1896 and the Rush was underway in 1898. At it's peak, Dawson was a tent city of anywhere between 30 and 40 thousand people, with only a few permanent wood structures in the central downtown. There were theatres, stores, nightclubs, hotels, you name it, Dawson had it. It was the capital city of the Yukon until the mid-point of the last century, when the population began to dwindle and it was moved to Whitehorse. Gold is still mined up here, and there is a lot of earthen scarring thanks to the mining activities, but that, along with the dilapidated, rustic buildings, adds to the charm.

So, what am I doing here? Well, Dawson City happens to be one of the hippest communities I've ever been in. No, I'm really not kidding. It's extraordinary. During the summer months, it hosts a myriad of festivals, arts and music (the Dawson City Music Festival being an international draw for performers and audience), and the kick off for the season seems to be the Dawson City International Short Film Festival. It commenced in 1999 and has been growing every year. This year, there are several films from around the world, a number from Scandinavia and at least one from the UK and a few from the States. So far, I haven't gotten to see all the films I wanted to, but I've seen a few really excellent works. I guess I'll get to them later. I still haven't explained what I'm doing here.

Essentially, the Exec Director of the Yukon Arts Centre sent me to Dawson as something of a gift-in-kind. For one week, I get to be the Festival Producer's slave. No, I'm not the coffee girl, nor the goffer, I'm actually serving a purpose and have authority. I'm kind of like a 'handler' for the important people as well as being the Producer's Exec. Asst. I feel important and have a fun role to play, and yet am still just part of the team. Also, I'm racking up so many hours, I'll have a pile of time off in-lieu ! The days are long, but fun, and I'm getting to see films, and I'm still meeting lots of people and making good connections with people from all areas of the culture and arts spectrum. The Festival is mainly held at KIAC (Klondike Inst. of Art and Culture), which is in the old Oddfellows' Hall. Mostly I work in the classroom area - kind of the nerve centre for the festival. The films are screened upstairs in the lovely Ballroom. KIAC also has the ODD Gallery, which is a funky little art gallery, currently run by the woman I replaced at the YAC. Wacky.

I've done everything from create award certificates for the participants and winners, to wrangle the jurors (haha, worse than herding cats, let me tell you), to deliver dietary needs to the caterers, to arrange private screenings, to ... well, you get the idea. Oh ya, and I wrote the Festival Statement. Can you imagine? Seven years in existance and they didn't have a mission statement. Well, they do now. Beyond that, I've been answering phones, taking messages, ordering peons - I mean 'volunteers' - around. I know, exciting. I'm mildly stressed today, but mostly, things are good. I'm enjoying myself. Some of the films I've seen have really impressed me.

There were two films screened last night that really made an impact on me, but the short drama works were all pretty high quality. The first one that really impressed me was filmed in Toronto and is called Big Girl. It's about a little girl and her single mother and her mother's boyfriend. The girl hates the men her mom brings home, more on principle than for any tangible reason. So, she and the boyfriend enter into a competition by which, best out of five, they vie for what they want. Should the daughter win, the boyfriend gets out of the picture. Should the boyfriend win, the daughter has to suck it up and be nice to him. It was surprisingly touching as well as being quite humourous and the acting was a real stand-out. The second film that I really enjoyed was by the Norwegian filmmaker, Egil Pedersen, called Vakenatt (Awake at Night). It's a very simple film, one location, two actors only with very standard cinematography. The acting and direction shines, though, making the pain of the moment come alive. It's about a couple, disfunctional after the loss of their infant, and a particular interplay between them after the man has been out drinking and the woman alone in the house, cleaning out the baby's things. Extremely powerful. The director is here for the festival, too, and he's my neighbour at the B&B where I'm staying. He's my age, very humourous and open and quite a bit of fun.

Although I'm working my buns off, I've had a few minutes here and there to enjoy myself. There are the drinks at Bombay Peggy's (named for the Madam who operated the brothel it once was), which is an inn and very fine pub. There are tasty breakfasts and good coffee from Riverwest Cafe. I've been to people's homes for dinner twice - Friday night's serving as a combined Easter/Passover/Birthday dinner. People are very friendly here and Dawson is an amazingly egalitarian spot. Seriously, Native, non-native, all walks of life; everyone treats everyone like an equal. There is a surprising lack of prejudice at all. In fact, if it weren't so damn cold, I'd call it utopian (some people, not bothered by the cold, already do).

One of the interesting things I've done has been to walk across the still frozen Klondike River to see "Caveman" Bill's dwelling. It's - you guessed it - a cave ! In fact, it's three caves. They're not natural caves, I don't think, probably hewed from the rock face back during the Goldrush days. Anyway, the central cave is about 12 feet deep, maybe a bit more, it was kind of hard to judge, and is set up with a little seating arrangement, a single bed, a wood stove and kitchen shelving. Outside the entrance is the cooking set-up. There is a storage-type cave is to the left and to the right is the Chicken Cave. Yes, it's where Caveman Bill keeps his chickens ! He has nine laying hens and one rooster and he sells his "Cave Eggs" in town. He's originally from Orillia, ON and lived in Toronto for ages where he was a street performer. He came to Dawson ten years ago, set up camp in the middle cave and as the season progressed, people started to ask, "You're not gonna live in a cave through the winter, are you?" His response? "Well, that sounds like an intriguing challenge !" And he's called it home ever since.

I'm not sure I'd want to live in a cave like his, it's a bit too rustic for my tastes, but it maintains heat far better than an exposed dwelling like a house and stays cool in the summer. It's just a little tricky to get to during river freeze-up and break-up. It was really amusing, because on our little impromptu tour was the MP, Larry Bagnall. On exiting the cave, as we crossed the river back to Dawson, he said, "Well, I can now say I've seen every constituent in Dawson." Which led to a discussion of a short film idea called: The Last Constituent.

Saturday nights are the hardest night of the week in terms of loneliness. For much of the week, I'm too tired and too busy to think much about home. Sure, there are moments where I feel my isolation keenly, but not like on a Saturday night. Maybe it's the fact that I'm relaxed, taking it easy... patterns of behaviour years old are broken. Saturday nights were nights for one of many things: hanging out with a video or movie on television with Mom, Dungeons & Dragons with the gang, or a date night with the boyfriend. Well, last night I got to experience D&D with a new and very different group, that doesn't really help my feelings of missing my friends back home. I have no TV and, well, no boyfriend here to cuddle up with. I don't even have a cat.

I miss people very much. I miss contact and love and things like that. I'm happy enough out here in the wilds of Canada's frontier lands and I know I'll make a good life for myself here. I have a job that is so far incredibly satisfying, and I'm connected to the world by many forms of media, but still, contact. Eventually, I'll be used to this place and it won't matter so much, but home is where the heart is, and mainly, that's a long way east.

Anyway, soon enough, I'll be heading to Dawson City for the Short Film Festival up there. That will be a strange and new experience and I'm looking forward to it. The folk up in Dawson seem really cool and quite with-it considering it's a town of something like 500 people in the winter and totally remote. Some in Whitehorse say Dawson is far more enjoyable and exciting than this city is. I guess I'll find out ! Then, the day after I return from the Film Fest, I'm off on a plane to Vancouver and then to Wales, via Amsterdam (ya, weird connector, I know). I'm looking forward to that trip even more. Not only will I visit with one of my very closest friends, I'll also get to head up to Leicester to participate in a learned conference hosted by the Uni of Leicester's Museum Studies Department. Gah, I can't wait ! This promises to be a very exciting month.

So, you can see how I can be filled with conflicting emotions about this whole living-in-Whitehorse thing. It doesn't change my strong desire to make a visit home in August, but with a car I'll need to buy and whatnot, I can't really see a way to afford it right now. Well, we'll see, we'll see.

I'm babbling. I guess I'll stop now and save you from any further ramblings.