At least ten children have been born in West Antarctica. The first was Emilio Marcos Palma, born on January 7, 1978 to Argentine parents at Esperanza, Hope Bay, near the tip of the Antarctic peninsula. In 1984, Juan Pablo Camacho was born at the Presidente Eduardo Frei Montalva Base, becoming the first Chilean born in Antarctica. Soon after, a girl, Gisella, was born at the same station. In 2001, National Geographic reported that eight children had been born at Esperanza alone.
As you might expect, a baby born in Antarctica doesn’t get an Antarctic passport–there’s no such thing. Instead, they receive their parents’ nationality. What happens if their parents come from different nations? I’m not sure.
Thanks to my recent illness, I’ve been spending a lot of time blowing my nose. Here in the hotel, I noticed an odd brand name on the tissue box: Angel Soft.
Is the implication that I’m wiping my nose with angels? That was my initial thought, but maybe it’s just the cold medication talking.
I got into Toronto last night and had an extremely satisfying evening. I ordered fish and chips from room service, and watched Hockey Night in Canada to stave off the jet lag. Happily, the Leaves [sic] lost and the Canucks won (Trevor Linden, I love ya buddy, but maybe it’s time to hang them up?).
Today I did some work, wandered around downtown doing some random minor shopping in the Enormous! Shiny! Malls!, and then went and saw the aforementioned Once.
And I’m a little chilly! Excepting recent dips in our increasing icy pool, I honestly haven’t been cold since late May. Not even a little chilly. It’s 13°C in the Centre of the Universe, and so I’m reveling in the very slight discomfort of being cold for a change.
