The frozen north: that's where the purest kind of politics might be found, W. says. It’s only with other people that you can withstand the Arctic winter. Only huddled together for warmth – and what is politics but a huddling together for warmth?

W. speaks of the far north of Scandinavia, and the far north of Canada; of white expanses and trackless forests; of swirling snow and frost flowers spreading on the window. He speaks of the warm hearths of the far north. Of oil lamps hanging with crystal prisms. He speaks of Canadian laughter amidst the glittering light. Of Canadian merriment during the endless winters!

Canadians leave their doors unlocked in the frozen north, W. says. They leave their hearts open! The law of northern hospitality means that you have to take anyone in who knocks at the door. It's exactly like the Law of the Stranger in the Bible, which Celan found so moving: 'The stranger who dwells among you shall be to you as a home-born, and thou shalt love him as thyself'. Unconditional hospitality: that's what the Canadian house offers. Hospitality without condition!

You can know nothing of human society until you stamp the snow from your boots in a Canadian hallway, W. says. Until you've been downed a glass of vodka at a Canadian table. The storm gathers outside; but you are inside. The winds blow from the far north; but you sit warm by the fire. The snow lies deep; but you drink and sing with your Canadian hosts long into the night ...