San Francisco Frontiers - The Asian workers keeping Greenland in business

Her family is among the roughly 1,200 Filipinos living on the vast Arctic island of 57,000 inhabitants, the largest foreign diaspora in the Danish autonomous territory.

"We're just looking for a greener pasture," smiled the 38-year-old, her eyes stealing a glance outside the window.

But behind the glass there was no greenery -- just the pristine white of a blizzard enveloping the streets of Ilulissat, north of the Arctic Circle, in the icy month of April.

- 'Teleported' -

Marinel was taking a break at the Nuka cafe where her husband works, flashing a contagious smile despite being tired from work, her long dark hair falling down her back.

In 2012, Owie Garciano left the lush landscapes of the Visayas and headed to Greenland for a job as a cook.

Marinel and their three children joined him in 2021, amid a tourism boom in the town known for its icebergs.

"It was like I had teleported," Marinel recalled. "From the tropical forest to here."

At first she worked in a warehouse, eventually landing a job as a receptionist.

Her 15-year-old daughter sometimes helps her, while her eldest son, 18, works as a kitchen hand in a restaurant.

The Garcianos are often tired from working so much, but it's for their future: Marinel invests "every penny" in real estate back home to give her children a better life.

"I want my kids to not grow up like me. You want to offer them what you didn't have," she said.

In between orders, Owie bounced out of the kitchen, gave her a quick kiss, then disappeared again, leaving behind an odour of fried food.

Since they never know how long their visas will be renewed for, they don't want to waste any time in Greenland.

Marinel keeps meticulous accounts, watching the children's spending closely, even going so far as to confiscate their money "for their future".

"In any case, it's too cold to go out and have fun," she said. "And if you drink, you just end up hungover and broke."

She squirmed on the red vinyl seat.

"I don't know... maybe I'm crazy," she laughed.

The next morning, she helped some Filipino friends clean the town's new airport, which is set to open in October.

- Labour shortage -

At dawn, life at the Best Western hotel begins to stir.

A Thai chambermaid disappears behind a flurry of sheets, a Filipino cook behind a burst of flame.

Here, a quarter of the staff is foreign.

"We want to hire locals, but it's hard," admitted manager Arnarissoq Moller.

"I don't know how we could maintain our high-quality service" without the guest workers, he said.

A town of 5,000 inhabitants, Ilulissat has about 50,000 visitors annually.

Tourism is growing rapidly but Greenland, whose population is in decline, has a labour shortage.

According to Greenland's employers' association, five to six percent of workers on the island are Asian, drawn by the tourism sector.

Their presence is needed, but sometimes misunderstood.

Marinel said she senses it sometimes, in lingering looks and harsh words: "Go home! Go home!"

"Like in any country," she said.

"We have to learn the language, and adapt to the culture... but it's not that easy."

She switches between Greenlandic, Danish and English all day.

At her side, her youngest child Neliowi, five, watched cartoons in English.

"In the mornings I always urge her to speak four or five languages."

- Not die here -

Marinel hesitated when the subject of happiness arose.

"I'm happy knowing that my children might not end up being poor again," she said.

She doesn't want to die in Greenland, she said, hoping to move back to the Philippines before she turns 40.

Night began to fall, and the tourists gradually left the Nuka cafe one after another. Outside, the blizzard raged.

Marinel pulled on her warm coat with a grimace, saying she dreams of "Trees. Sea. Sand".

Owie emerged through the swinging kitchen doors, looking tired.

A Filipino kitchen hand greeted him with a bloodstained hand. He was preparing reindeer legs for a panang curry, which has become the "in" dish at Ilulissat's restaurants.

In the dining area, a young woman laid the tables for the next day.

Ilulissat went to sleep beneath its blanket of snow, but the warm light and strains of Thai pop rock from the Nuka cafe hinted at another life still awake.

D.Robinson--SFF