A Lesson in Alaskan

A lot of people ask me what is different in Alaska -- aside from the outrageous cold. These were some of the first things that I noticed:

Late October, 1999

How to speak Alaskan:

ice cream = Crisco with berries mixed in. This is traditionally made with berries and whale blubber - Crisco is a lot easier to obtain if you live inland.

going outside = leaving Alaska

Lower 48 = all states excluding Hawaii and Alaska

going into town = flying into Anchorage

gussack = derogatory slag for white person. Derived from the Russian "Cossack."

"It's warm today." = it's above 67 degrees.

steak = unless specifically labeled "beef", it is reindeer or moose.

Real Alaskan = relative to whomever is in the room. Example: "Well, I've been here since 1987 and as a Real Alaskan I say-" "Sit down. I've been here since 1980 and as a Real Alaskan, I say....."

This week, I bought myself a Halloween pumpkin. As I sat down to carve it, the following conversation occurred between the two firemen presently living in my house:

Fireman #1: "Can I help you with that knife?"
Fireman #2: "She's from Texas."
Fireman #1: "Oh, sorry. Go ahead."

I'm not sure what this means.

It's snowing outside and this temperature has dropped to about -5 degrees at night. The river is frozen over but no one is driving on it yet. I was told no one drives on it until the day after the first car falls through the ice. Obviously, one moron must be the first. Hopefully, it won't be a cab in which I am riding.

Send food, books, men, toys, pictures, letters.

Night of the Albanian Cab Driver

This happened in the first week of my moving to Alaska:

October, 1999

Friday night I ate dinner with Fat and Crazy and her Quiet Because There's Not Much Going On Up There husband - big night in MONA: dinner and a movie. But there was excitement in town; the maintenance guy across the street was drunk and got in a fight. The police were called. Everyone in F&C's building was watching from their balconies while the cops cuffed him. F&C and I took a picture. The cops waved at us.

I called and cab and ended up riding with Louie, one of the many Albanian cab drivers in town. Louie knew I was new in town and so offered to show me MONA. We rode around for about two hours, listening to Bob Dylan, picking up drunken teenagers and, to my surprise, hunting foxes. As we were pulling through the mud on the outside of town, Louie screamed "There's one!" We raced through the mud roads of the tundra with a small red fox in the headlights. I asked him if he was serious about mowing down the fox. He said "Yes, I want the tail." I told him they all have rabies and that if he touched it he would have to get vaccinated. He believed me (I checked on this later and found out that I was actually telling the truth).

Sunday I moved into my new house. XX and XY bought a cactus for me to make me feel at home. My first meal in my new home: moose steak and green beans. XX is my age but I think she really wants children - she keeps making me tea and cookies and fixing my bed. (Later I found out just how creepy her attempting-to-treat-me-like-her-child behavior would get.)

Monday night I saw the Northern Lights, a green hand of fog, stretched over the sky, with fingertips touching the tundra. The silhouette of a giant raven's head looked up from the horizon, black against the lights. They move like clouds in slow motion and flash - not like lightening - more like a flashlight in the fog. We have an arched window that reaches the ceiling in the den. I lay on the couch and watched the stars and the lights. I saw a shooting star and made a wish.

The lights stretched out over half the sky, like someone put their fingers in them and pulled. I moved to my bedroom and watched the lights from my bedroom window and that's how I fell asleep. This morning, the first snow fell. It's still not very cold.

I marched with the Tundra Women Group against violence today. I met a cop who has promised to let me ride with him and give me a scoop on bootlegging.

Miss you all.

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Old but interesting e-mail

The following is my first e-mail back to Texas. I shudder in embarrassment for the ignorant views I had. Although, to my credit, I was just 24 and the only people I had met at this point were two of the creepiest yahoos that side of the mountains (and that's really saying something).

October 8, 1999

Dear Everyone:

I landed in Anchorage on Friday night and took a cargo plane into X (now called Middle-of-Nowhere Alaska -- MONA) on Monday morning. First snow was yesterday. The weird thing is, it doesn't feel cold. I have been wearing long-sleeved t-shirts and a jacket. The cold will be setting in soon, though.

I saw Mt. McKinley, the tallest mountain on the continent and today, I walked the tundra. Next week, I will be taking a Cessna to a village on the ocean for a subsistence conference. Yesterday, I signed up to be a volunteer firefighter. I will be moving into my new home on the 10th.

I am living with XX (later know as Crap-Eating Crazy Woman) and XY (later known as Creepy Guy). They are both 24. XY is a firefighter and XX works with native children. The natives here give away their kids a lot (how ignorant and racist did that sound? Sorry, I have since repented). They are considered community property -- more about that later.

The sunsets here are beautiful and you can hear the sled dogs howl at night. Everyone in town knew who I was within 4 hours of my plane landing. They call me "the redhead." I guess compared to the jet black hair of the natives, this makes sense (again, shut up, stupid redneck. Geez, I can't believe I said these things).

Everyone is very friendly but blunt. The natives are afraid of cats - they are supposed to be a bad omen. Reindeer is sold in cellophane packages in the grocery stores.

I have to go now but I will write more soon.

Oh, yeah -- IMPORTANT: The post office will not deliver to a physical address so please send stuff to my PO Box:

Naive Writer
Crappy Middle-of-Nowhere Paper
PO Box 001 MONA, Alaska 00001

with love,

She-Who-In-For-the-Shock-of-Her-Life