What's so special about Greenland? I went there to find out

Herald Sun

11-07-2025

It takes around 30 hours to fly from Australia to Greenland but the timing of my arrival couldn't be better.
It's June 21, not only the longest day of the year but also Greenland's national day. So after touching down at the newly minted international airport in the capital, Nuuk – an eye-catching arrangement of crayon-coloured buildings anchored to bedrock beside the Labrador Sea – I head straight out to join the celebrations. There's nothing like crisp Arctic air and brilliant sunshine to banish jet lag.
I've arrived too late for the annual seal hunt and kayaking show but I'm just in time for the carnival at Nuuk Stadium. On a tiny stage beside the astroturf oval, performers alternate between Greenlandic and pop songs as children pile onto inflatable playhouses or swing from straps tied high up a light tower. Like a maypole but way more perilous.
National Day celebrations at Nuuk Stadium. Picture: Kendall Hill
In the city centre there's a band jamming on the balcony at Daddy's bar above a busy square where pop-up stalls sell hot dogs, fairy-floss and craft beer to revellers.
That evening I head out with US colleagues – just arrived on the new direct flight from Newark, New Jersey – to Foodlovers Streetfood, Nuuk's sole food truck, which serves local lamb, scallops and fish (and whale) with chips. Then we swing by a local hall to see veteran rockers Inua play to a crowd so packed we can't even squeeze in. Around 10pm there are fireworks but it's broad daylight so they appear as smoky explosions in a bright blue sky.
The national day celebrations are modest – Nuuk's population only hit 20,000 in January, around a third of the island total – but they feel uniquely Greenlandic. And I assume that this year they'd be more significant given Trump's renewed threats to simply annex the world's largest island. But Greenlandic sovereignty is far more complex than that.
Ice floes float past the colourful buildings and homes in Nuuk.
'We have just been a plaything or toy for the last 300 years,' explains Qupanuk Olsen, arguably Greenland's most famous person thanks to her viral social media channels. 'We are used to just being seen as an object that you can just decide over, as if we have nothing to say for ourselves.'
Olsen launched Q's Greenland, her viral education and travel series, five years ago after travelling to more than 30 countries and realising 'people know nothing about Greenland'.
When Trump declared last December that he needed 'full control' over Greenland for national security, Olsen says Greenlandic people thought it was a joke. He'd made similar threats in 2019 that came to nothing. 'He's so not serious,' she says.
But then Trump Jr visited Greenland in January, followed by vice president Vance. 'That's when we started to realise his words are not just words, they're becoming a reality.'
For Greenlanders, national day was complicated long before Trump stumbled onto the scene. Colonised by Denmark in the 18th century, they've officially been Danish citizens since 1953 – though Greenland's parliament is largely autonomous today. While polls earlier this year showed 84 per cent of islanders want independence from Denmark, very few are interested in becoming US citizens.
Olsen, elected to the 31-member parliament in March as a member of the pro-independence Naleraq party, used to be 'a huge royalist' – she even served in the Danish navy – and an enthusiastic participant in national day celebrations. But no more.
'How can you call it your national day when we're still under Denmark?' she says. 'There's not even any difference between Danish people and Greenlandic people. I cannot call myself an Inuk, an Inuit, on paper.'
Greenland still relies on Denmark to fund around 20 per cent of its annual budget, but the island's current tourism boom, coupled with its lucrative fishing industry and deposits of rare-earth minerals, are fuelling hopes for its eventual independence. The timing is the tricky part.
Olsen, the territory's only mining engineer (she earned her masters in Kalgoorlie, of all places), estimates it could be 20 years before Greenland's resources potential begins to be realised. 'Greenland is like a huge mine deposit just waiting for the right price. So right now it's not our way out.'
It will be a delicate balancing act between exploiting the island's mineral resources – mostly buried beneath an ice cap almost 3000km long – and the deep-seated Inuit respect for nature.
'What we value in life is going hunting and fishing, being one with the nature,' Olsen says. 'We'd rather be out in the wild and be one with the nature than anything else.'
When I ask about her hopes for the future of her homeland, her answer is simple but also complicated. 'I really want my children to grow up in an independent country where they know that that their voice is just as worthy as any human being on Earth.'
The writer travelled to Greenland as a guest of HX Expeditions.
Originally published as What's so special about Greenland? I arrived at the perfect time to find out