A bridge too far

It’s easy to get excited about new things, however mundane, when one lives in a small place, even if that small place happens to be the capital city and is locally regarded as a metropolis with its bustling population of 17,000. So it was one morning this week when, as the bus approached our stop, my son exclaimed excitedly,

“It’s the new bus! I went on it yesterday.”

I squinted through the soft, drifting snow, yellow in the headlights. It didn’t look any different to me. But indeed, as I boarded, I noted the distinct chemical smell of a new vehicle. And, taking a seat, I found myself smiling as I stroked the surface of the upholstery, visually identical to that in all the other buses, but distinct in its velvety newness. Only after a few minutes of this faint reverie did check myself. It was just a new bus.

A similar thing happened a while ago. A new supermarket was scheduled to open in the area we live. It would be the second supermarket in our suburb, indeed the second shop of any kind. The excitement was visceral. On the morning of the opening, my son burst out of the house, rushing to get in early enough to see the supermarket before school started. After school, he did another lap of the supermarket interior before he came home again. And as soon as he stepped in the door, he shouted up the stairs, “Can we go to the supermarket together now?” And we did.

Then there was the new bridge. It was a long time coming and there was great anticipation. The bridge would connect the new port area directly to the main road that led to the airport. It doesn’t seem like much, I know, and it is really not much to look at, nor is it very long. But it is new.

But the bridge did actually come with some real excitement, even by normal people’s standards. There aren’t a lot of bridge builders in Greenland. So instead it was built abroad, and then transported on a barge towed behind a ship from Poland, across the North Atlantic, to Nuuk. The North Atlantic can be rather unforgiving. And viewing the ship’s captain’s video of part of the North Atlantic crossing, it is surprising it even made it to Nuuk. But it did. The drama didn’t quite end there though. Once safely in the port of Nuuk, the bridge was lifted into place, where it was then discovered that it didn’t quite fit. The excavation at each end was not sufficient and another few days were required to dig about in the corners before it could finally slot into the designated hole. Then the concreting had to wait for the change in season. And finally, at long last, the bridge was open.

On a chill morning, I found myself in the back of a taxi, bright-eyed, forehead glued to the cold window pane, taking in the new vista of the harbour and surrounds from this different perspective as we crossed the short stretch of water. And again, suddenly, I felt slightly ridiculous when I noticed the degree of my own excitement at this incremental change to my urban environment.