Today we stopped in the
land of buttercups. The town of Nanortalik is only 1400, yet probably one of
the bigger towns in Greenland. The people here greet us with smiles and follow
us like dogs. We are some strange foreigners to them. They take pictures with
us, and wonder where we come from.
The children run around in
the gravel roads with their dogs chasing behind. If you don't watch out, they
will jump on your backs. The land of buttercups is a calm one, but fragrant with
colors. The yellow grounds are only matched in beauty by the small houses which
radiate shades of blue and red. The reflections of the rainbow-colored villages
dance along the water below. Only the call of the raven disturbs the peace
which lays still on its bed of yellow flowers.
We, foreigners, peak
through the small wooden cabins which are sometimes hidden by the wild flowers.
The community may be small, but the history is intact- proudly preserved
through photographs and letters. Just beyond, you stumble into the graveyard.
There are a few tombstones remembering those who died, but slowly fading into
the background, as the sea of yellow prospers. The immensity of life is slowly
taking over the stumbling shadows of death. And with that lies the beauty of
the land of buttercups.
