ARCHITECTURE AND DESIGN

I remember May 1, 1995, when I was with Inuit guides who were all really surprised that it was raining. They had never seen rain at the beginning of May. It was very unusual! I’ve experienced things like that, where maybe I didn’t personally have any benchmark for comparison, but other people I was with told me there was a problem. And now, in 2021, we have to go to the Arctic two months earlier than in 1990 to film exactly the same thing. I used to film bowhead whales on July 15 in the Foxe Basin, and now, I have to go there on May 15 to see them in the same place. The difference is huge!

Another major change is the arrival of freshwater. The glaciers are melting at an incredible speed, and climate change is raising the temperature of the water, so it’s getting warmer and warmer. As a result, many equatorial species are migrating to the Arctic and Antarctic, toward the poles, so they can live in water where the temperature is still cool. We’re ending up with species we’ve never seen in the Arctic before, but they won’t all be able to live there! There are conflicts, intra-species competition, particularly when it comes to food. There are species that have never met before, such as Atlantic and Arctic cod, which are living side by side for the first time. Everything is changing, including migratory routes. An increase of a tenth of a degree has the power to displace entire schools of fish, which are very sensitive to water temperatures.

This phenomenon will lead to the disappearance of some species, but the proliferation of others, such as jellyfish, which prefer warm water to cold. On the other hand, if polar bears don’t adapt to the new conditions quickly, they are at risk of extinction.

All marine animals are currently in the process of adapting to the new climatic conditions as much as possible. The only species that isn’t adapting right now is humans. What is intelligence, at the end of the day? It’s the ability to adapt to your environment, to live in harmony with it.”

Do these changes worry you?

“For my part, I try not to be too moralistic. I’ve chosen to talk about climate change from a perspective of beauty, because it’s absolutely necessary to preserve this beauty for future generations. Many go to restrictions, but that’s not my approach. But if you’re asking me the question, yes, I’m extremely worried. It’s late now, probably too late. But we can still try to do better, because if we do nothing, we just risk multiplying the number of disasters by ten or twenty.”

We often talk about the waste littering our oceans, but what about noise pollution?

“Sound travels four times faster in water than it does in air, so when we talk about the ocean being a ‘world of silence,’ it isn’t true! It’s quiet if nothing is happening, but if there is something, you can hear it four times louder! In water, humans hear with their whole skull, not just their ears, and the same goes for marine mammals. They hear much more than us, in fact, so the noises of boats, mining, or oil exploration totally disorient them, and many deaths are directly caused by noise pollution.”

Does fear really come up on a daily basis, or does habit make you not think too much about it?

“Fear is part of the job, such as when you’re diving with walruses or polar bears. And that’s good, because it guides all our senses and makes us take calculated risks. It’s not something I ever thought to push out of my life. Instead, I try to control it.”

Water is known for its soothing power, the sound it makes, its movement, its freshness. Does it have this same effect on you, despite the intensity of your work?

“Yes, it’s extremely soothing! I live by the sea, on the Magdalen Islands, and I’m incredibly lucky to be able to live so close to the water. Even when I’m diving, unless I’m really nervous and surrounded by dangerous animals, it gives me a feeling of total well-being. I come away calmed, much better in my head, body, and mind. We come from the water, so I think, unless you’re afraid of it, there’s no better place to be.”

Photo credit: Mario Cyr

A SEAL IN GREENLAND, CAPTURED BY MARIO CYR

Photo credit: Fuchs Photography

Photo credit: Selitbul

Going Against the Current

In Search of the Past

By Franck Laboue, Voyageurs du Monde — voyageursdumonde.ca

AT HOME PORT — In Quebec, we have an intimate, even mystical relationship with water. The river, the backbone of our living space, is also the lifeline to which we cling. We all have our own piece of river, stream, or lake. It’s an invitation to meditate, a mental coasting, but—above all—a call to escape. An invitation to take to the sea, set sail in a yacht, or survey the globe on the deck of a cargo ship. Rivers and oceans whisk us away to other ports, continents, and cultures that harbour unknown shores. It’s a particularly human characteristic to think of taming the elements, mastering the raging seas. Waves have this unique ability to recharge our batteries, from hotel pools to the beaches where we fill up on sea spray. Life connects us to this essential element; the liquid world invites us to ride the waves. In three stages, let’s explore water and travel, from Africa to the Ganges, passing though the streets of Rome.

TO THE SOURCE

Water is the source of everything. It gets everywhere: fjords, channels, deltas. It shapes the planet at its own pace, inexorably. It makes its way through and surrounds immersed lands. We’re nothing but helpless spectators to this indomitable element. First, we’re blissful in the face of its power at the Yellowstone geysers, then static before the spectacle of the tide at Mont-Saint-Michel. We dive into its heart sometimes, trying to unravel the mystery of this world of silence. Often, we isolate ourselves within it to forget and regenerate.

While sailing the mythical Okavango Delta in Botswana, the flow of life comes to carry us away. Its waters

spread out into an aquatic labyrinth of breathtaking beauty. Untouched islands on a sea of water lilies,

reeds, papyrus, green water palm trees, and canoes that glide slowly through the water. In the evenings, you can hear the leopards growling and the buffalo rubbing against the posts of the camps on stilts. In a mokoro, a delicate canoe manoeuvred by a long pole, let yourself be carried along flush with the water, vulnerable and fascinated, between lagoons of flowering water lilies. Look out for crocodiles, as well as the colourful kingfishers flitting about from one papyrus to the next. On the banks, watch the Lechwe antelope run and the baboons play. The eye wanders, the horizon melts away, and the vast sky hung like a sheet is pierced by the flight of the white egrets. We’d love to freeze time, but contrary to appearances, here too, it follows its course…

WHEN WATER SHAPES CITIES…

From lakeside villages to floating cities, the urban relationship between humans and water is eternal. Everyone wants to find their home port, from the canals of Bruges to the waves lapping against the red bricks of the Port of Hamburg, to the ancient village of Fort Cochin in Kerala. Misery and grandeur stand beside the same waves, from the palaces of Lake Como to the houses on stilts of Kampong Ayer.

Across Europe, people have made water the quintessential urban decoration. The invigorating fountains are like relays, embellishing both small villages like Raon-l’Étape in the Vosges and large cities like Rome, the Eternal City.

A true city of water, the Italian capital boasts no fewer than 2,000 fountains! Cinegenic or lucky charms, many of them also tell a part of Roman history. It was the Ancient Romans—whom the waters of the Tiber weren’t enough to cool—who came up with the idea of installing fountains. More than three centuries before Christ, statesman Appius Claudius Caecus built the first aqueduct to bring water to Rome from the springs beyond its walls.

The history of the city is therefore written through the fountains—and we walk from one to the next, in search of the cooling mist. But if there’s one fountain in Rome that embodies the city and draws crowds, it would be the Trevi Fountain. You have to go beyond the spectators to truly appreciate its beauty: very early, or at dusk, once everyone has left after taking a picture and throwing a coin in the basin, honouring the tradition and promising to return. In the middle sits the god Neptune surrounded by seahorses and two other statues: allegories of Health and Abundance. To cinephiles, the image of this monument gives rise to another: that of Anita Ekberg, slipping in fully dressed in the moonlight, facing a charmed Marcello Mastroianni. This iconic scene from Fellini’s La Dolce Vita (1960) fully affirms the fountain’s romantic potential. If, as the saying goes, all roads lead to Rome,

the fountains of the Eternal City extend far beyond Italy’s borders to open up to the world, taking the souls of travellers with them.

...AND TAMES SOULS

From the waters of the Jordan welcoming the baptized to the purifying ablutions at the entrances to mosques, water is a receptacle for our souls. What if drawing closer to God involved connecting with water, the quintessential comforting element? In Malaysia, the mosques float on the sea: praying takes place on the water. At MontSaint-Michel, the pilgrim’s access depends on the tide: nature subjects us to its whims, and this idea of inaccessibility fascinates us. In India, this mystical connection with water is perhaps at its most intense.

The Ganges: the sacred river. Nestled against an elegant curl of the left bank of the Ganges, the city of Varanasi experiences an intense relationship with heaven. Here, the story of India unfolds in a chaos of colours, smoke, incantations, bustling crowds, sacred mantras, feverish glances, and tears as well. Knocking on Shiva’s door means agreeing to lose your bearings and discovering an elsewhere you didn’t know existed until then. Once in their lifetime, every Hindu must bathe in the Ganges in Varanasi. The purpose? To wash away all these sins that perpetuate in the cycle of reincarnation, the samsāra, in the worlds of matter and imperfection, and therefore suffering. To achieve moksha (the equivalent of nirvana for Buddhists), the end of these damned resurrections, the river and Varanasi, founded over 2,500 years ago, are the solution.

On one hand, there is life. Singles, whole families, young couples—everyone performs careful ablutions. Throwing offerings and loose flowers into the current goes without saying, as does taking a dip to stretch your legs or coating yourself with the precious water. A joyful or collected atmosphere: yogis in full meditation, children splashing about. A herd of black buffalo join the crowd, saris of all colours spread out everywhere, and all is well.

And on the other hand, there is death. Varanasi is a much sought-after final journey. The body moves from the stretcher to the top of the pyre. All that remains are ashes, delivered to the waters of the river. The family’s joy is as extreme as it is sincere. Here is their deceased freed from their required rebirths, finally admitted into the state of full light with the masters of celestial harmony. Mission accomplished for a final journey to Varanasi.

Photo credit: Abir