…when laid aside may yield yurts, sea otters and car-camping on the spit at the end of the world.
It’s becoming more difficult to stay on top of updating this because the pace of life here just seems to be getting faster and faster. I usually only have one day off (or none) between runs, instead of the two I had a few weeks back. This week, I had 3 days off in a row because I requested Monday and Tuesday to join Hope, Caitlin, Nicole, Thomas, Blair and Matt on a cabin retreat somewhere near Talkeetna. Hope’s aunt has a cabin out there, a 3 mile hike through bear country.
As it turned out, this bear thing is pretty serious. We spent most of Sunday packing and preparing to get out there, only to get in the car and hear from Hope’s aunt that 7 teenagers had been attacked by a savage grizzly about 20 miles from where we were headed. The bear had a cub and was still out there. When we told Matt’s landlord this, he just calmly said, “You want a gun?” But ultimately we decided it was too great a risk, and spontaneously adapted the plan. We grabbed a tent or two from Lucy and Matt’s houses, along with a camp stove and started heading south on a 4 hour road trip to a place called Homer.
Hope and Blair didn’t make it out with us because they had stayed on the train through Sunday and didn’t want to do the drive Monday with uncertain sleeping accommodations, likely looking rain, and a need to return the next day. The rest of us discovered, once we had rolled onto the Spit at around half past midnight that the tent we had packed was actually just poles and a rain tarp. So Matt and Nicole slept in his tiny two-man and Caitlin, Thomas and I made do with sleeping in the Subaru, along with our plentiful belongings. We all continually marveled at that car’s ability to contain all our gear and needs throughout our brief trip. To be honest, only Caitlin and I slept in the car that first night; Thomas decided to stay up all night, tending to the fire and exploring the spit and the area, like a man possessed by some quiet inner mania. At least, that’s how I recognized his impulse, occasionally having similar ones myself.
It was a glorious little vacation. We took turns deejaying with each other’s ipods on the commute. The drive was beautiful. The Kenai Peninsula is extremely scenic, and one of the nicest places, perhaps in the world, for driving. It was rather rainy and overcast most of the way there, but there was a patch of clear sky just over Homer and it stuck with us for the next 2 days.
I fell abruptly in love with Homer. It feels like the end of the world, the furthest reach of human civilization, and in some ways, it is. It is populated by fisherman and hippies who live and sell their wares in yurts, or in converted beached boats or abandoned school buses. There are also many art galleries with magnificent land and seascapes (they have all the best material, after all), and everyone is incredibly friendly and approachable. There is a marine life visitor center that lent me binoculars for free, and without taking any kind of deposit. Admission to the preserve and their exhibits were also free. The scenery down there is…phenomenal, incomparable, fantastic to behold. We got to watch the extended sunset from the spit, a thin strip of land extending out between two vast blankets of water. We also had numerous excellent, up-close wildlife encounters on the way in and during our stay—a momma moose with two calves who unconcernedly munched grass for 10 minutes 10 feet from us, some bald eagles swooping just over our heads, and sea otters and sea lions floating about in the water just off shore.
It was also really nice and much-needed to conceive of the whole thing as a vacation. It was short, to be sure, but while there I was more wiling to indulge in delicious food and drink than I have been most of the time I’ve been here. It was great to get out of Anchorage and see a bit more of the state, and put the train from my thoughts for a few days. I’m getting far enough into the season that the novelty has worn off, and now it is decidedly a job. It is still a silly and whimsical, adventurous kind of job, but it is a work all the same. The getting up early and going off for two days and standing and dealing with people for 15 hours is wearing thin. But I’m halfway done, and it looks like the boss honored my request to put me on my friends’ schedule, which will be nice. The timing could have been better, as we’re about to launch into 6 consecutive days in which 2 of the 3 runs are 4:45 am arrival Northbound ship days. The worst kind of days. Still, there are less than 2 months to go at this point, and I’m determined to make the most of it.
Another highlight of the last two weeks is that last Tuesday I got a “day off in Denali.” It didn’t end up working out quite the way the powers that be led me to believe. I thought I’d get dropped in Healy Monday at 5, have that night and all of the next day to enjoy the area around the national park, and then go back to work Wednesday morning. I made plans to camp in the park with a newish friend named Josh and probably others Monday night. However, my carload of employees worked all the way to Fairbanks on Monday, and then were paid to ride the train for 4 hours back to Healy on Tuesday. This meant I really had only a half-day off in Denali, but I was determined to get some kind of trip in, and sure enough, at 2:15 I was heading off to take a flight tour to the summit of the tallest mountain in North America, flying over 70 miles of incredible glaciers and rivers and foothills and snow-capped peaks in a teeny little plane with 7 other people, including the pilot, whom I was seated directly behind.
It was absolutely unreal. I have no way to describe the sights except to say I’m really glad I got to do it. Princess employees get to take this $350 ride for free if there’s space, as long as we tip the pilot generously. Pictures also don’t do any of it justice, but it was awfully tempting to try. Unfortunately I forgot to bring my camera to the lodge from Healy. I did make friends with a gentleman from Georgia and his wife (even though he tried to claim I was his wife or daughter a couple of times) and they lentme their camera for the duration, promising to email me the pictures when they get home from their trip. I haven’t heard from them yet, but hopefully I will.
So off I go, into few weeks of rolling with the punches and various Alaskan adventures and surprises.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Another Illustrious Day Off
I didn't get up terribly early today. In fact, I was off to a rather slow start. Caitlin came over last night and we had a slumber party because she had to work this morning, and it's much easier for them to commute from Anchorage than from Wasilla before 6 am, as Wasilla is about a 40-50 minute drive away. We stayed up late talking and swapping stories. I was so tired from my run that I didn't even wake up when her alarm went off and she got ready and left for work at ass o'clock this morning.
Once I did get up, my day got interesting. I did some laundry and a bit of phone contact, and eventually made it out onto the Chester Creek bike path, in search of a frisbee game promised by my co-workers on the bus home yesterday. I know this is a pretty common day-off activity for many of the train employees, and I figured it was worth scoping it out, saying hi to everyone and perhaps getting a bit of exercise.
The weather wasn't terribly auspicious for it. It tends to change many times a day here, so it was sunny and warmish this morning, a little over-cast in the early afternoon, and shortly after I arrived at the appointed Valley of the Moon park, it began drizzling and then raining a little harder.
I was a bit torn about staying or going. It turns out I am better at throwing and catching a frisbee than I remember being. I used to toss it around casually a bit in high school, but I haven't done it much since, and I know so many people who play a lot (especially my little brother) that it seems everyone must by now be out of my league, and it's probably better for me to stay out of it.
In fact, most people have played as much or less than I have, so I was passably comfortable out there on the field, with the ~10 young men who had also showed up for the game and accompanying barbecue and beer.
Even so, I had intentions of doing some of my day-off stuff, and once it started to rain, I decided to head out and make for the library, and its accompanying internet and shelter. I got to take a new route here, which made me happy because I get rather tired of going the same way once I've done it more than 2 or 3 times.
On my way here, I noticed a woman trying to hail me through the noise of my earbuds and the speedy winds passing my bicycle. So I pulled up to stop, and put my ipod on pause to see what she wanted. She asked me if downtown was "that way," gesturing. I said yes. She asked if I had $1.75 I could give her so she could take the bus there. I said, yes I think so, and started to look in my backpack. After a brief inspection, it appeared that I had left my wallet at home, so I told her, sorry, nevermind. I did, however, have a little packet of shortbread, one of my favorite emergency ration supplies, pilfered off the snack pile on the train one day, so I offered her that. She took it, and asked how far away downtown was. She said she was from Barrow, another town in Alaska, rather far from here I think, though I'm too lazy to look up exactly where it is. I told her downtown was a mile or two from where we were. So she started walking.
I was pleased by this interaction. Anchorage seems to be a good place to try out different theories of doing good and living generously. It's not like New York or Mumbai, where the requests for money are so frequent it is practically impossible to respond positively to all of them. It seems to me, I ought to give as much as I can afford. If someone makes a request of me that threatens my ability to feed or house myself, or otherwise threatens my sense of safety or well-being, I can quite reasonably and guiltlessly say no. In most other situations, when someone needs to ask me a question, or needs money for a bus, or something to eat, and I have some time or resources I can spare, I'd rather say yes than no.
Speaking of eating, it's probably about that time. Time to head home and catch some leftovers. It's still raining, but the library is closing soon. I imagine the frisbee folks have dispersed by now, unfortunately. I may swing by the park again just to see. Or I'll try to catch them for longer next time.
Once I did get up, my day got interesting. I did some laundry and a bit of phone contact, and eventually made it out onto the Chester Creek bike path, in search of a frisbee game promised by my co-workers on the bus home yesterday. I know this is a pretty common day-off activity for many of the train employees, and I figured it was worth scoping it out, saying hi to everyone and perhaps getting a bit of exercise.
The weather wasn't terribly auspicious for it. It tends to change many times a day here, so it was sunny and warmish this morning, a little over-cast in the early afternoon, and shortly after I arrived at the appointed Valley of the Moon park, it began drizzling and then raining a little harder.
I was a bit torn about staying or going. It turns out I am better at throwing and catching a frisbee than I remember being. I used to toss it around casually a bit in high school, but I haven't done it much since, and I know so many people who play a lot (especially my little brother) that it seems everyone must by now be out of my league, and it's probably better for me to stay out of it.
In fact, most people have played as much or less than I have, so I was passably comfortable out there on the field, with the ~10 young men who had also showed up for the game and accompanying barbecue and beer.
Even so, I had intentions of doing some of my day-off stuff, and once it started to rain, I decided to head out and make for the library, and its accompanying internet and shelter. I got to take a new route here, which made me happy because I get rather tired of going the same way once I've done it more than 2 or 3 times.
On my way here, I noticed a woman trying to hail me through the noise of my earbuds and the speedy winds passing my bicycle. So I pulled up to stop, and put my ipod on pause to see what she wanted. She asked me if downtown was "that way," gesturing. I said yes. She asked if I had $1.75 I could give her so she could take the bus there. I said, yes I think so, and started to look in my backpack. After a brief inspection, it appeared that I had left my wallet at home, so I told her, sorry, nevermind. I did, however, have a little packet of shortbread, one of my favorite emergency ration supplies, pilfered off the snack pile on the train one day, so I offered her that. She took it, and asked how far away downtown was. She said she was from Barrow, another town in Alaska, rather far from here I think, though I'm too lazy to look up exactly where it is. I told her downtown was a mile or two from where we were. So she started walking.
I was pleased by this interaction. Anchorage seems to be a good place to try out different theories of doing good and living generously. It's not like New York or Mumbai, where the requests for money are so frequent it is practically impossible to respond positively to all of them. It seems to me, I ought to give as much as I can afford. If someone makes a request of me that threatens my ability to feed or house myself, or otherwise threatens my sense of safety or well-being, I can quite reasonably and guiltlessly say no. In most other situations, when someone needs to ask me a question, or needs money for a bus, or something to eat, and I have some time or resources I can spare, I'd rather say yes than no.
Speaking of eating, it's probably about that time. Time to head home and catch some leftovers. It's still raining, but the library is closing soon. I imagine the frisbee folks have dispersed by now, unfortunately. I may swing by the park again just to see. Or I'll try to catch them for longer next time.
A Most Excellent Birthday
I turned 23 on the train this past Wednesday. I have had to work on most of my last few birthdays, and usually this was a fact I resented and found quite frustrating. I am rather sentimental about things like birthdays, and holidays in general. I believe we ought to take more excuses than we do to celebrate things and people, and holidays are popularly agreed upon opportunities for this. And what better thing to celebrate than…me? ;)
Back in the good old school days, having a birthday in mid-July was the best. I could have my parties outside, at the beach, in parks, in a tent in my backyard. It’s usually not warm enough to do these things in Maine, but on my birthday the weather was almost invariably perfect. Plus, I didn’t have to go to school or do anything unpleasant, unlike most poor suckers.
Once I was away from home and most of my closest friends were at school with me, not being at school during my birthday became more of a bummer. I have been far away from most people I care about for most of my last several birthdays. This year I was in Alaska, last year I was in Italy, the summer of my 21st I was living in Portland, but journeyed to Providence to see a few friends, the summer before that I was in Burlington, Vermont (working on another train for tourists). My 18th birthday I was working for Environment Maine, asking people for money on the street. That was a terrible day.
This year, I decided to avoid the pangs of spending my birthday sad and lonely, far away from the people I love, by preemptively celebrating it every month, instead of just the once in July. As it turned out, I didn’t really celebrate it more than two or three random times during the school year, but I did at least nod to it and take an excuse to act silly on the 13th of most months. I threw a particularly good party in May, since it was my last chance to do it at Brown, and I had plenty of free time.
The 12-month birthday plan still strikes me as ingenious, and I will probably continue it this coming year. However, I am happy to report that it proved unnecessary as a consolation prize. I started really making friends out here just in the nick of time to have an abundance of people to invite over to my cute little yellow house in Anchorage and host a party. (I’ve discovered in the last year or two—throwing parties is something I really enjoy, and have a natural knack for. I am especially good at delegating so that all the necessary components come together.) For the first time in a while, timing worked out reasonably well, so Hope and Nicole and Caitlin were all able to make it, although they all had to work the next day. It was excellent to have some recurring characters from birthdays past, and those three girls played a big role in making my birthday wonderful. They came bearing cards, presents, a delicious chocolate raspberry cake, homemade humus (per a specific request), and Nicole even went out on a quest at around 11:30 pm to find me gin and ginger ale, because I needed them.
The party was low-key but lovely, my favorite kind of party, especially after two days of work. We saw some of the (Alaskanly-prolonged) sunset, had a brief fire in our fire pit/chimney in the backyard, and I even found an ideal tree to climb back there, which had somehow escaped my notice until then. Many of the people I invited weren’t able to make it, but there was still a solid crowd of 12 or 15 at the peak. Nicole and I attempted to teach the raucous pirate drinking song “Old Dun Cow,” and I said good night to the last few stragglers, most of whom were sleeping over, by serenading them with the beautiful Irish song “The Parting Glass.”
Even my birthday work run panned out exceptionally well. I had around 80 passengers all day on the 12th. The cars max out at 88. I told all those people it was my birthday that day; I figured it might help with tips, and make the day more fun. The morning group was fun. One 60ish year old Asian man had brought his guitar with him, along with some sheet music and lyrics. He was all about having a sing-along, which eventually we did. I, upon request, performed for the car a couple of times, singing the chorus of Northwest Passage (which is the most Alaska-related song I know) as well as Tell Me Ma (just because I like it, and know it well.) We also got pretty much the whole train car to sing Country Roads, and I joined the guitarist in singing Stand By Me. It was all very silly.
That night I hung out with some of my newer friends, fellow bartenders Jason and Charles. They are both much more experienced (and a few years older) than I am, and it was kind of cool to pick their brains and try to pick up some bartending savvy. First we had a decadent feast, compared to the usual microwave or granola bar Fairbanks fare. We pooled our resources and had a mini-dinner party, complete with avocado, humus, tomato and olive bread. We also went out to a local bar in Fairbanks (my first time doing that) a little after midnight because I figured, why not? It was my birthday, and we were all only “live” for breakfast the next day. I had two drinks, a Washington Apple shot courtesy of Jason, and a shot of honey whiskey on the house because I guess I made friends with the bartender. I was also out in full Shana style, wearing my favorite silk green pajama pants.
Generally, everyone was exceedingly nice to me throughout my two-day birthday extravaganza, especially my co-workers on the train. Another friend, Robin, made me a birthday crown out of three purple flowers we usually put in vases on the dining room tables. One of the on-board managers, my friend Chris, was taking bets on how long a certain dog would chase the train if we slowed down to 20 mph in his area. Apparently, he always tries to chase us but we’re usually going too fast for it to go anywhere, and the engineer for the day, “Animal,” had agreed to help with this experiment. My very cool friend Sandra spotted me for my wager. I put my dollar on 23 seconds. It seemed like the most auspicious number. Unfortunately, the dog failed to appear that day, but we’re hoping we’ll be able to settle the pot the next time we’re going south with that ARR and management crew.
I wanted to sell tons of delicious drinks the morning of my birthday, and was all gung-ho, offering Woo-Woos and Sex on the Beach as the day’s specialties. Didn’t have any takers, though. It’s hard to get people to drink before noon, it turns out. Still, I was determined to have a good day, and I was extremely perky (perhaps also a little caffeinated, running on about 3 hours of sleep) and had some great conversations with passengers. I made friends with one guy who had traveled to many of the same places in Europe that I have. He even said he would vote for me if I ran for president, when that came up, which is something I have never gotten tired of hearing, particularly from relative strangers. Finally, I capped off the morning by testing my Bloody Mary mix, which is delicious. There were other vices (like being barefoot) I was hoping to enjoy on the train that day, but some upper management came aboard so I mostly just napped and made and handed out party invitations.
And, of course, July 13th was a beautiful, sunny, clear-skied day, even out here in Alaska.
My post-birthday Thursday was also delightful. I had the day off and spent a good chunk of it checking in with friends from afar. I was biking downtown when my friend Alli called, so I serendipitously arrived in a beautiful garden outside of the Anchorage Museum. I was far enough away from traffic that we could converse with ease, and I sat surrounded by flowers and sunshine. I wandered accidentally to the coast because my pirate feet naturally always lead me to water, and then I backtracked to a lovely coffee shop with free wireless, where I set up for much of the remaining afternoon, reading through birthday wishes from people I love.
I ran a few more errands, including buying myself some small presents at Fred Meyer: envelopes, scotch tape, a new journal, some new pens, hand soap and granola. I stayed up a bit too late chatting with my roommate Blair, but the birthday luck held and I didn’t have passengers on Friday, so I was able to catch up on some sleep then.
All in all, I’ve been on a cloud of joy and well-being and gratitude for the life I have and the people in it. I have nothing but hopeful and exuberant anticipation for the year and years ahead of me. I have many choices to make, but I know I can’t go too far wrong as long as I keep paying attention and living, loving and enjoying.
I’m on the schedule to have a “Day off in Denali” this coming Tuesday. Hopefully this means I will get to do some camping and awesome expeditions. Will report back shortly.
Back in the good old school days, having a birthday in mid-July was the best. I could have my parties outside, at the beach, in parks, in a tent in my backyard. It’s usually not warm enough to do these things in Maine, but on my birthday the weather was almost invariably perfect. Plus, I didn’t have to go to school or do anything unpleasant, unlike most poor suckers.
Once I was away from home and most of my closest friends were at school with me, not being at school during my birthday became more of a bummer. I have been far away from most people I care about for most of my last several birthdays. This year I was in Alaska, last year I was in Italy, the summer of my 21st I was living in Portland, but journeyed to Providence to see a few friends, the summer before that I was in Burlington, Vermont (working on another train for tourists). My 18th birthday I was working for Environment Maine, asking people for money on the street. That was a terrible day.
This year, I decided to avoid the pangs of spending my birthday sad and lonely, far away from the people I love, by preemptively celebrating it every month, instead of just the once in July. As it turned out, I didn’t really celebrate it more than two or three random times during the school year, but I did at least nod to it and take an excuse to act silly on the 13th of most months. I threw a particularly good party in May, since it was my last chance to do it at Brown, and I had plenty of free time.
The 12-month birthday plan still strikes me as ingenious, and I will probably continue it this coming year. However, I am happy to report that it proved unnecessary as a consolation prize. I started really making friends out here just in the nick of time to have an abundance of people to invite over to my cute little yellow house in Anchorage and host a party. (I’ve discovered in the last year or two—throwing parties is something I really enjoy, and have a natural knack for. I am especially good at delegating so that all the necessary components come together.) For the first time in a while, timing worked out reasonably well, so Hope and Nicole and Caitlin were all able to make it, although they all had to work the next day. It was excellent to have some recurring characters from birthdays past, and those three girls played a big role in making my birthday wonderful. They came bearing cards, presents, a delicious chocolate raspberry cake, homemade humus (per a specific request), and Nicole even went out on a quest at around 11:30 pm to find me gin and ginger ale, because I needed them.
The party was low-key but lovely, my favorite kind of party, especially after two days of work. We saw some of the (Alaskanly-prolonged) sunset, had a brief fire in our fire pit/chimney in the backyard, and I even found an ideal tree to climb back there, which had somehow escaped my notice until then. Many of the people I invited weren’t able to make it, but there was still a solid crowd of 12 or 15 at the peak. Nicole and I attempted to teach the raucous pirate drinking song “Old Dun Cow,” and I said good night to the last few stragglers, most of whom were sleeping over, by serenading them with the beautiful Irish song “The Parting Glass.”
Even my birthday work run panned out exceptionally well. I had around 80 passengers all day on the 12th. The cars max out at 88. I told all those people it was my birthday that day; I figured it might help with tips, and make the day more fun. The morning group was fun. One 60ish year old Asian man had brought his guitar with him, along with some sheet music and lyrics. He was all about having a sing-along, which eventually we did. I, upon request, performed for the car a couple of times, singing the chorus of Northwest Passage (which is the most Alaska-related song I know) as well as Tell Me Ma (just because I like it, and know it well.) We also got pretty much the whole train car to sing Country Roads, and I joined the guitarist in singing Stand By Me. It was all very silly.
That night I hung out with some of my newer friends, fellow bartenders Jason and Charles. They are both much more experienced (and a few years older) than I am, and it was kind of cool to pick their brains and try to pick up some bartending savvy. First we had a decadent feast, compared to the usual microwave or granola bar Fairbanks fare. We pooled our resources and had a mini-dinner party, complete with avocado, humus, tomato and olive bread. We also went out to a local bar in Fairbanks (my first time doing that) a little after midnight because I figured, why not? It was my birthday, and we were all only “live” for breakfast the next day. I had two drinks, a Washington Apple shot courtesy of Jason, and a shot of honey whiskey on the house because I guess I made friends with the bartender. I was also out in full Shana style, wearing my favorite silk green pajama pants.
Generally, everyone was exceedingly nice to me throughout my two-day birthday extravaganza, especially my co-workers on the train. Another friend, Robin, made me a birthday crown out of three purple flowers we usually put in vases on the dining room tables. One of the on-board managers, my friend Chris, was taking bets on how long a certain dog would chase the train if we slowed down to 20 mph in his area. Apparently, he always tries to chase us but we’re usually going too fast for it to go anywhere, and the engineer for the day, “Animal,” had agreed to help with this experiment. My very cool friend Sandra spotted me for my wager. I put my dollar on 23 seconds. It seemed like the most auspicious number. Unfortunately, the dog failed to appear that day, but we’re hoping we’ll be able to settle the pot the next time we’re going south with that ARR and management crew.
I wanted to sell tons of delicious drinks the morning of my birthday, and was all gung-ho, offering Woo-Woos and Sex on the Beach as the day’s specialties. Didn’t have any takers, though. It’s hard to get people to drink before noon, it turns out. Still, I was determined to have a good day, and I was extremely perky (perhaps also a little caffeinated, running on about 3 hours of sleep) and had some great conversations with passengers. I made friends with one guy who had traveled to many of the same places in Europe that I have. He even said he would vote for me if I ran for president, when that came up, which is something I have never gotten tired of hearing, particularly from relative strangers. Finally, I capped off the morning by testing my Bloody Mary mix, which is delicious. There were other vices (like being barefoot) I was hoping to enjoy on the train that day, but some upper management came aboard so I mostly just napped and made and handed out party invitations.
And, of course, July 13th was a beautiful, sunny, clear-skied day, even out here in Alaska.
My post-birthday Thursday was also delightful. I had the day off and spent a good chunk of it checking in with friends from afar. I was biking downtown when my friend Alli called, so I serendipitously arrived in a beautiful garden outside of the Anchorage Museum. I was far enough away from traffic that we could converse with ease, and I sat surrounded by flowers and sunshine. I wandered accidentally to the coast because my pirate feet naturally always lead me to water, and then I backtracked to a lovely coffee shop with free wireless, where I set up for much of the remaining afternoon, reading through birthday wishes from people I love.
I ran a few more errands, including buying myself some small presents at Fred Meyer: envelopes, scotch tape, a new journal, some new pens, hand soap and granola. I stayed up a bit too late chatting with my roommate Blair, but the birthday luck held and I didn’t have passengers on Friday, so I was able to catch up on some sleep then.
All in all, I’ve been on a cloud of joy and well-being and gratitude for the life I have and the people in it. I have nothing but hopeful and exuberant anticipation for the year and years ahead of me. I have many choices to make, but I know I can’t go too far wrong as long as I keep paying attention and living, loving and enjoying.
I’m on the schedule to have a “Day off in Denali” this coming Tuesday. Hopefully this means I will get to do some camping and awesome expeditions. Will report back shortly.
Monday, July 11, 2011
No good deed goes unpunished OR Anchorage’s Seedy Underbelly OR A Crash Course in Money Management by Shana Tinkle, for street-urchins near you
First, one of the clearest pictures of Mt. Denali/McKinley I've ever seen. Credit goes to my friend Briana the bartender. Taken July 5th.
Many people in Anchorage are less fortunate than I. All of the passengers on the train have more money than I do, except for a few of the children.
I am, as I may have mentioned, making a bit less money than I originally thought or hoped I would. This is because of a variety of factors. Bartenders make less than almost anyone on the train. I guess we make more than dishwashers and cooks. But food servers and rail guides definitely get tipped more, as a general rule. This is due to several factors. Most people eat, since they’re on the train for 4 or 8 or 10 hours, and the food costs a fair bit of money. It’s basically a guarantee that if they eat, they will tip at least 15% of the meal cost. Most people understand that to be proper tipping etiquette. And thanks to the bartender’s speech encouraging them to do so, most everyone tips the rail guide for their tour. Not everyone wants to drink on the train. Many of the people who want beverages order water or free coffee or hot tea or $2 hot chocolate or refillable sodas for $3.25. Many of those people don’t tip at all, even if I end up spending more time waiting on them than anyone else. Even with those who do drink alcohol, it takes quite a few drinks to add up to the price of a meal downstairs. So tipping is intermittent and sometimes disappointing.
I am still making an hourly wage, $8 an hour, and $12 for every over time hour. But I am also usually only working about 4 out of 7 days. Usually, those days are 15 hours each, so I guess that makes sense. But sometimes we lose out on hours because instead of doing the whole 30 hour trip, Anchorage-Fairbanks and Fairbanks back to Anchorage, we get dropped off in Denali (the 2/3 mark going North), and then either bussed back the next day, and thus paid for 5 hours of “work” instead of 15, or we work a “ship day” in which we get about 12 hours. Either way, less over time.
And then of course there are taxes. And rent. And utility bills. And groceries (sometimes) and expenses.
I am attempting, this month, to pay for all of those things out of pocket, with whatever I’ve made in tips (except, of course, for the taxes. Which, ultimately, I hope to get back.)
It’s not easy, especially because some people tip with credit cards. Basically, my system is that when I get back from a run, I put all the cash I have into a “save for rent” envelope except for about $10, which is my spending money until I refill my wallet with new bills.
I’ve been trying to limit myself to one meal out per pay period (2 weeks). Recently, I’ve started being a bit more social, which means the added expense of going out and drinking at bars, or buying beer or other stuff to consume at the BVI, and it turns out one of the bars in Healy (49th State) has amazing food, so I usually end up spending some extra money when I’m there, particularly for the sake of sweet potato tots, one of the most delicious and decadent things I’ve ever tasted.
Generally, I’ve found the best way to avoid spending money is to work as much as possible. You have less time to wander around frittering, several meals and snacks are provided, and you’re adding bills to your pocket. Good thing I worked the last 6 days in a row. :) Yesterday, on my first day off, I indulged in a wonderful California roll at a Japanese place in downtown Anchorage (surprise, surprise, the seafood is good here.) $12. Then I ran into a super silly street performer at the weekend market and chucked him a buck. He suggested a donation of $5, but I decided I needed the money more, and worked harder for it. I was hoping to buy a new gallon of milk and some fruit.
Later in the day, I went out on a long solo walk, mostly using the Chester Creek trail. I took some lovely pictures, and then I ran into a group of neighborhood kids on my way home. Long story short, I decided to spend 6 of the last 7 dollars left in my wallet, my allowance for aforementioned groceries and necessities, because I had already put the rest of my tip money from the week into my rent envelope. They wanted snacks, and only had a dollar between the four of them. I knew that wasn’t enough for too many snacks. I tried to explain to them that they needed to share, and just choose a couple snacks, and that they needed to negotiate and compromise in order to snack within their means. But they had a hard time not all getting exactly what they wanted.
Eventually, after about 45 minutes of interacting with these kids, making friends with them, striving to teach them some valuable life lessons, buying them snacks, and attempting to get the second youngest (K.P.) to stop her incessant and noisy habit of crying, I finally reached the end of my very long rope of patience, nudged the 6 and 4 year old out of the gas station where they were now also driving the clerks crazy with all their noise, and told them that if they didn’t stop crying, I would leave them there and go home. They kept crying, so that’s what I did. I needed to pee, after all. And I figured, they got themselves there, and we were just a few blocks from where they lived, and the older two (who had, by this time, run off with their swag) at least knew where they had left them, and could come back and find them if it came to that.
I’m not sure what the take-home lesson from all this is. I knew after 2 minutes of talking to these kids that they were going to take me for a ride if I wasn’t careful. Their fourth question (out of about 75) was “Do you have any money?” followed directly by “Can we have it?” Still, I felt it was the right thing to do to help them out. I figured they probably needed the snacks more than I needed to spend that particular $6 on milk and apples. So I guess the moral is that small kindnesses have their own internal rewards, and it’s better to rely on them than to expect gratitude or acknowledgement from others. And at the end of the day, the thing that it’s most important for me to use my resources on, after looking out for my basic necessities, is helping other people.
I’ve been keeping very busy with work and socializing and writing, reading, biking, and occasionally watching movies or relaxing. But when I do have time to myself, it occurs to me that I don’t want to stagnate or regress in any way. I want to maintain a sense of forward momentum. I want always to be learning, and growing, and improving myself. I am trying to continue past trends of staying in touch with people that are far away, and refusing to lose friendships that are important to me simply because of distance. It’s not an easy task, but it is, I think, the greatest struggle I have and will continue to face in my life, the separate pulls of constant adventure and seeking the horizon, motion and new locations, versus the desire to have continuity in friendships and relationships over time.
In the meantime, practically everyone I talk to has a new idea for something I can do with my life, or something I can try in the next few years. I had a lot of ideas and options when I got here, and now I have even more. I am struggling to choose between:
1. Going off to someplace exotic, perhaps New Zealand, to get work on a sailboat
(I’m assuming the appeal is obvious.)
2. Returning to Alaska in November to spend 5 months bartending in Dutch Harbor, Unalaska, Alaska (yes, it’s really called that). A train friend said she could get me a job there where I would make $500/day, serving workers in the fishing industry. It’s the busiest fishing port in the US, by volume caught (according to Wikipedia.) It’s also an island, where I would be surrounded by water and boats. And the temperature is supposed to be much milder than most other parts of Alaska in the winter, and it’s in the south, so it doesn’t get as dark as others, and it has ocean and mountains, so it will snow a lot (which I like.) I sort of like this idea, both because it’s crazy, and I would make a ton of money, but also because it somehow appeals to me to finish off my Alaska Experience this year. I’ll have spent a summer here, then I can spend a winter, then I’ll know what that’s like, and say I’ve done it, and then I can go off to someplace warm and tropical and call it a day. I would also probably get to see amazingly beautiful scenery, skies, light playing in the snow, Northern Lights and whales.
3. Moving to New York and starting an acting career, with probable bartending on the side.
4. Getting a teaching job in Asia
5. Getting some kind of job in Australia. Perhaps taking that opportunity to get super Scuba certified, so I could later/soon become a divemaster on a boat somewhere
6. I’ve also reopened the idea of applying to the Peace Corps, and/or a Fulbright (though I have no idea how I would narrow down the what and where for that app.)
7. I am still planning to sooner or later apply for the Foreign Service or some other government or non-profit track job in which I can help people and foster peace and be diplomatic and make the world better. But I think this is still a few years off.
8. Whoops, this is usually option #1. I might also move to Bolivia for the year and live cheaply and write and learn Spanish and do theater with street kids
9. I got a suggestion from a friend to work for another theatre company that tours around all over the place and does something. I forgot to look closely at the details, but it also sounded sweet.
10. My dad also forwarded me an email about an opportunity to teach or work at the Island School in the Bahamas (where my younger brother spent a semester in high school.)
So, options are not my problem. The problem is picking something. I might need to make a web and put it on my wall and throw a dart at it and resolve myself that way, leaving it to chance. With this number of ideas, it would just take too damn long to evaluate the pros and cons of everything. How much money I have at the end of this season will have some impact on my decision, but basically everything else is up to chance and up in the air.
Damn. It’s fun to be almost 23. (Of course, I long ago decided to calculate my age by adding the digits together, so I never get to be too old, so I’m actually about to turn the wonderful and worldly, very zen age of 5. Just like Rucha, my new Indian San Franciscan friend from the train, who is also an aspiring writer, precocious and curious about the world around her. We hit it off right away. Actually, I made friends with her whole family, parents and grandparents and all.)
I ought to be writing more often, I am stock-piling stories at a rate I can scarcely contend with. My parents loved the one about the town of Ferry (population ~25) who have an annual tradition of collectively mooning the passenger train as it passes on the 4th of July. The railroad pissed them off in the 1920’s, by telling them they couldn’t drive to the other side of town on the railroad bridge (because it was incredibly dangerous), so they’ve been mooning us ever since. Don’t believe me? Here’s a picture.
I’ve faced plenty of unexpected challenges each run. I am literally surprised by nothing now, anything is possible on that train. One great tragedy this past week—a full bottle of Bacardi slid off my liquor counter (where generally the booze sits snugly and securely on a mat, despite the constant rocking of the train) and crashed to the floor, spreading glass shards for me and soaking the back of my black pants in rum for the rest of the day. As a pirate, there are many worse things I can imagine smelling like, but I haven’t felt like my uniform was quite up to snuff ever since.
Alaska is a supremely weird and quirky place, mostly thanks to its populace. I’ve learned to pay close attention when I roam around. You never know what you’re going to come across.
Yup, that's a pet reindeer he's got there.
And, of course, my neighbor's roof is covered in antlers and skulls.
I know I am gaining a lot from this summer and this experience in terms of learning some new practical skills (something I felt I lacked in my time at Brown), and meeting dozens of new people from all kinds of backgrounds, with approaches to life both similar to mine and in some ways very different. Many of the people I work with have made or intend to make a lifetime career out of seasonal and/or customer/food service work. This is not my intention. This is something I want to try, to dabble in for a little while, so I can see what it’s like, and live somewhere different and exotic for a temporary period of time. But ultimately, I am too ambitious to do this forever, and I wouldn’t want my scholastic or creative education or inclinations to go to waste. Thus, I came to the library today to get myself some books I missed as an undergrad—some Proust, Joyce, Freud, David Foster Wallace and Frankenstein.
It’s not easy to find time for everything I want to do, but I have found that this is very valuable and grounding solo time for me. There is little separating me from a homeless person. I have a house, but I sleep on a double-folded (and therefore very skinny) flimsy futon mattress on the floor, surrounded by little stacks of my belongings. I pack and unpack my backpack every single day. I have responsibilities that are entirely new to me. It’s hard to balance all this with also making sure I’m eating all the right things and getting enough exercise, but I am in a brand new world where I have plenty of food for thought and I am making progress in deciding what matters to me, what I want to do and where I want to be. (Essentially, everything/everyone, everything and everywhere.)
Many people in Anchorage are less fortunate than I. All of the passengers on the train have more money than I do, except for a few of the children.
I am, as I may have mentioned, making a bit less money than I originally thought or hoped I would. This is because of a variety of factors. Bartenders make less than almost anyone on the train. I guess we make more than dishwashers and cooks. But food servers and rail guides definitely get tipped more, as a general rule. This is due to several factors. Most people eat, since they’re on the train for 4 or 8 or 10 hours, and the food costs a fair bit of money. It’s basically a guarantee that if they eat, they will tip at least 15% of the meal cost. Most people understand that to be proper tipping etiquette. And thanks to the bartender’s speech encouraging them to do so, most everyone tips the rail guide for their tour. Not everyone wants to drink on the train. Many of the people who want beverages order water or free coffee or hot tea or $2 hot chocolate or refillable sodas for $3.25. Many of those people don’t tip at all, even if I end up spending more time waiting on them than anyone else. Even with those who do drink alcohol, it takes quite a few drinks to add up to the price of a meal downstairs. So tipping is intermittent and sometimes disappointing.
I am still making an hourly wage, $8 an hour, and $12 for every over time hour. But I am also usually only working about 4 out of 7 days. Usually, those days are 15 hours each, so I guess that makes sense. But sometimes we lose out on hours because instead of doing the whole 30 hour trip, Anchorage-Fairbanks and Fairbanks back to Anchorage, we get dropped off in Denali (the 2/3 mark going North), and then either bussed back the next day, and thus paid for 5 hours of “work” instead of 15, or we work a “ship day” in which we get about 12 hours. Either way, less over time.
And then of course there are taxes. And rent. And utility bills. And groceries (sometimes) and expenses.
I am attempting, this month, to pay for all of those things out of pocket, with whatever I’ve made in tips (except, of course, for the taxes. Which, ultimately, I hope to get back.)
It’s not easy, especially because some people tip with credit cards. Basically, my system is that when I get back from a run, I put all the cash I have into a “save for rent” envelope except for about $10, which is my spending money until I refill my wallet with new bills.
I’ve been trying to limit myself to one meal out per pay period (2 weeks). Recently, I’ve started being a bit more social, which means the added expense of going out and drinking at bars, or buying beer or other stuff to consume at the BVI, and it turns out one of the bars in Healy (49th State) has amazing food, so I usually end up spending some extra money when I’m there, particularly for the sake of sweet potato tots, one of the most delicious and decadent things I’ve ever tasted.
Generally, I’ve found the best way to avoid spending money is to work as much as possible. You have less time to wander around frittering, several meals and snacks are provided, and you’re adding bills to your pocket. Good thing I worked the last 6 days in a row. :) Yesterday, on my first day off, I indulged in a wonderful California roll at a Japanese place in downtown Anchorage (surprise, surprise, the seafood is good here.) $12. Then I ran into a super silly street performer at the weekend market and chucked him a buck. He suggested a donation of $5, but I decided I needed the money more, and worked harder for it. I was hoping to buy a new gallon of milk and some fruit.
Later in the day, I went out on a long solo walk, mostly using the Chester Creek trail. I took some lovely pictures, and then I ran into a group of neighborhood kids on my way home. Long story short, I decided to spend 6 of the last 7 dollars left in my wallet, my allowance for aforementioned groceries and necessities, because I had already put the rest of my tip money from the week into my rent envelope. They wanted snacks, and only had a dollar between the four of them. I knew that wasn’t enough for too many snacks. I tried to explain to them that they needed to share, and just choose a couple snacks, and that they needed to negotiate and compromise in order to snack within their means. But they had a hard time not all getting exactly what they wanted.
Eventually, after about 45 minutes of interacting with these kids, making friends with them, striving to teach them some valuable life lessons, buying them snacks, and attempting to get the second youngest (K.P.) to stop her incessant and noisy habit of crying, I finally reached the end of my very long rope of patience, nudged the 6 and 4 year old out of the gas station where they were now also driving the clerks crazy with all their noise, and told them that if they didn’t stop crying, I would leave them there and go home. They kept crying, so that’s what I did. I needed to pee, after all. And I figured, they got themselves there, and we were just a few blocks from where they lived, and the older two (who had, by this time, run off with their swag) at least knew where they had left them, and could come back and find them if it came to that.
I’m not sure what the take-home lesson from all this is. I knew after 2 minutes of talking to these kids that they were going to take me for a ride if I wasn’t careful. Their fourth question (out of about 75) was “Do you have any money?” followed directly by “Can we have it?” Still, I felt it was the right thing to do to help them out. I figured they probably needed the snacks more than I needed to spend that particular $6 on milk and apples. So I guess the moral is that small kindnesses have their own internal rewards, and it’s better to rely on them than to expect gratitude or acknowledgement from others. And at the end of the day, the thing that it’s most important for me to use my resources on, after looking out for my basic necessities, is helping other people.
I’ve been keeping very busy with work and socializing and writing, reading, biking, and occasionally watching movies or relaxing. But when I do have time to myself, it occurs to me that I don’t want to stagnate or regress in any way. I want to maintain a sense of forward momentum. I want always to be learning, and growing, and improving myself. I am trying to continue past trends of staying in touch with people that are far away, and refusing to lose friendships that are important to me simply because of distance. It’s not an easy task, but it is, I think, the greatest struggle I have and will continue to face in my life, the separate pulls of constant adventure and seeking the horizon, motion and new locations, versus the desire to have continuity in friendships and relationships over time.
In the meantime, practically everyone I talk to has a new idea for something I can do with my life, or something I can try in the next few years. I had a lot of ideas and options when I got here, and now I have even more. I am struggling to choose between:
1. Going off to someplace exotic, perhaps New Zealand, to get work on a sailboat
(I’m assuming the appeal is obvious.)
2. Returning to Alaska in November to spend 5 months bartending in Dutch Harbor, Unalaska, Alaska (yes, it’s really called that). A train friend said she could get me a job there where I would make $500/day, serving workers in the fishing industry. It’s the busiest fishing port in the US, by volume caught (according to Wikipedia.) It’s also an island, where I would be surrounded by water and boats. And the temperature is supposed to be much milder than most other parts of Alaska in the winter, and it’s in the south, so it doesn’t get as dark as others, and it has ocean and mountains, so it will snow a lot (which I like.) I sort of like this idea, both because it’s crazy, and I would make a ton of money, but also because it somehow appeals to me to finish off my Alaska Experience this year. I’ll have spent a summer here, then I can spend a winter, then I’ll know what that’s like, and say I’ve done it, and then I can go off to someplace warm and tropical and call it a day. I would also probably get to see amazingly beautiful scenery, skies, light playing in the snow, Northern Lights and whales.
3. Moving to New York and starting an acting career, with probable bartending on the side.
4. Getting a teaching job in Asia
5. Getting some kind of job in Australia. Perhaps taking that opportunity to get super Scuba certified, so I could later/soon become a divemaster on a boat somewhere
6. I’ve also reopened the idea of applying to the Peace Corps, and/or a Fulbright (though I have no idea how I would narrow down the what and where for that app.)
7. I am still planning to sooner or later apply for the Foreign Service or some other government or non-profit track job in which I can help people and foster peace and be diplomatic and make the world better. But I think this is still a few years off.
8. Whoops, this is usually option #1. I might also move to Bolivia for the year and live cheaply and write and learn Spanish and do theater with street kids
9. I got a suggestion from a friend to work for another theatre company that tours around all over the place and does something. I forgot to look closely at the details, but it also sounded sweet.
10. My dad also forwarded me an email about an opportunity to teach or work at the Island School in the Bahamas (where my younger brother spent a semester in high school.)
So, options are not my problem. The problem is picking something. I might need to make a web and put it on my wall and throw a dart at it and resolve myself that way, leaving it to chance. With this number of ideas, it would just take too damn long to evaluate the pros and cons of everything. How much money I have at the end of this season will have some impact on my decision, but basically everything else is up to chance and up in the air.
Damn. It’s fun to be almost 23. (Of course, I long ago decided to calculate my age by adding the digits together, so I never get to be too old, so I’m actually about to turn the wonderful and worldly, very zen age of 5. Just like Rucha, my new Indian San Franciscan friend from the train, who is also an aspiring writer, precocious and curious about the world around her. We hit it off right away. Actually, I made friends with her whole family, parents and grandparents and all.)
I ought to be writing more often, I am stock-piling stories at a rate I can scarcely contend with. My parents loved the one about the town of Ferry (population ~25) who have an annual tradition of collectively mooning the passenger train as it passes on the 4th of July. The railroad pissed them off in the 1920’s, by telling them they couldn’t drive to the other side of town on the railroad bridge (because it was incredibly dangerous), so they’ve been mooning us ever since. Don’t believe me? Here’s a picture.
I’ve faced plenty of unexpected challenges each run. I am literally surprised by nothing now, anything is possible on that train. One great tragedy this past week—a full bottle of Bacardi slid off my liquor counter (where generally the booze sits snugly and securely on a mat, despite the constant rocking of the train) and crashed to the floor, spreading glass shards for me and soaking the back of my black pants in rum for the rest of the day. As a pirate, there are many worse things I can imagine smelling like, but I haven’t felt like my uniform was quite up to snuff ever since.
Alaska is a supremely weird and quirky place, mostly thanks to its populace. I’ve learned to pay close attention when I roam around. You never know what you’re going to come across.
Yup, that's a pet reindeer he's got there.
And, of course, my neighbor's roof is covered in antlers and skulls. I know I am gaining a lot from this summer and this experience in terms of learning some new practical skills (something I felt I lacked in my time at Brown), and meeting dozens of new people from all kinds of backgrounds, with approaches to life both similar to mine and in some ways very different. Many of the people I work with have made or intend to make a lifetime career out of seasonal and/or customer/food service work. This is not my intention. This is something I want to try, to dabble in for a little while, so I can see what it’s like, and live somewhere different and exotic for a temporary period of time. But ultimately, I am too ambitious to do this forever, and I wouldn’t want my scholastic or creative education or inclinations to go to waste. Thus, I came to the library today to get myself some books I missed as an undergrad—some Proust, Joyce, Freud, David Foster Wallace and Frankenstein.
It’s not easy to find time for everything I want to do, but I have found that this is very valuable and grounding solo time for me. There is little separating me from a homeless person. I have a house, but I sleep on a double-folded (and therefore very skinny) flimsy futon mattress on the floor, surrounded by little stacks of my belongings. I pack and unpack my backpack every single day. I have responsibilities that are entirely new to me. It’s hard to balance all this with also making sure I’m eating all the right things and getting enough exercise, but I am in a brand new world where I have plenty of food for thought and I am making progress in deciding what matters to me, what I want to do and where I want to be. (Essentially, everything/everyone, everything and everywhere.)
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Chugging Along
Somehow, I’ve already been living in Alaska for over a month. I’ve been out on 9 runs with the train. Each brought unique challenges and surprises, but patterns have certainly started to emerge.
My last day off (before today) was Thursday. Much of that day was devoted to such grown-up activities as paying rent and utility bills for my house. I had to open a new bank account out here because Bank of America only has one ATM in the whole state of Alaska (located at the 5th Ave. Anchorage Mall), so now my money is stashed in 3 places instead of 1 (not to mention the little stashes of cash I tend to keep in my room, in case of emergencies, a need for bail money, or a particularly rainy day when I decide to buy a ticket elsewhere). So far I’m managing to keep good track of it all, mostly by never spending anything on anything if I can help it.
Some of you, familiar with my antipathy toward cooking and preparing food for myself may be wondering how I’m getting along in the self-feeding department. To be honest, it’s been less of a burden than I anticipated. Lunch and snacks are provided on the train when we head north-bound, as are breakfast and lunch south-bound. When we stay over in Healy, we also get dinner at the employee lodging there. The food is pretty bad, but it’s free and warm and probably has some protein, and it’s food and that’s sufficient for me. They also usually have fruit, which is a luxury I’ve come to appreciate immensely here. I’ve always liked fruit, but I took it for granted as a kid and in college. Now that I have to buy my own groceries in Alaska, I’ve turned into something of a fruit smuggler. Most food is really expensive here, because we’re at least 1500 miles from civilization (unless you count Canada ;) and much further from most sunny warm places where fruit is grown, so by the time it gets here it is both over-priced and less than inspiringly fresh. Thus, I purchase it sparingly. But I usually take at least 2 apples when they show up on the train, eat whatever orange slices are left in my garnish tray at the end of a run, and adopt a couple of apples and oranges every time I’m at the Healy Homestead, to parcel out to myself over the next day or two.
My roommates, Zack and Blair, also sometimes cook dinner and share it with me. And when I overnight with the train crew in Fairbanks, we are bussed to Fred Meyer (the local grocery superstore) where we generally buy microwavable sustenance for the night. My purchases on those excursions thus far have included: an apple with a jar of peanut butter and a pre-made tuna sandwich (which was disgusting and inedible, not a mistake I have repeated) three boxes of granola bars, a bag of grapes, a frozen burrito, a frozen Indian dish, a box of Easy Mac packets (not sufficiently thought through- those require microwavable bowls, which the BVI does not supply, so I improvised and used the flimsy ice bucket I found in my room and supervised to ensure it wouldn’t melt). As you can see, far from a glamorous or especially nutritious collection of food, but so far I have been too lazy to plan ahead and cook something to bring on the train and microwave when I get there. I am also usually too tired to do much on the nights when I return from a run to my house in Anchorage, and my supplies are limited. I’ve eaten some beans, some bean and rice mixtures, a couple of tuna sandwiches I made myself (all of which validated my decision to shell out 8 bucks for a real can opener, rather than continuing to struggle with Blair’s gadget-knife). On one of my recent days off, I actually went so far as cutting up some vegetables and adding them and a few spices to the pasta and tomato sauce I was cooking. And I made one delicious egg scramble with tuna, feta, onion and salsa in it. But that’s about as ambitious as my culinary projects have gotten. As long as survival, basic nutrition, lack of effort and frugality remain my primary kitchen concerns, this approach will have to do.
I have now been here long enough that some existential questions have begun to nag at me. I know that I will be here until the end of September. During that time, I hope to earn a lot of money, though I don’t think I’ll walk away with nearly what I imagined before I started. I also hope to see a healthy bit more of Alaska, and take advantage of some of the unique and magical properties of this place. These two goals are somewhat in conflict with one another, but I expect some kind of balance can be struck. Additionally, I would like to develop a few more friendships with my co-workers out here, if for nothing else at least to have company and assistance in seeking Epic Alaskan Adventures (since my resources and knowledge of the area and what to prioritize are severely lacking, and hiking/camping/climbing and other excursions are usually more fun when not undertaken solo.) I enjoy and am comfortable in my own company, but it’s something I prefer in moderate doses.
I’ve made some progress in the friend-making department. It’s been slow because, in addition to the fact that my standards are high and it takes some time for me to declare myself “friends” with someone new, our schedules are erratic, unpredictable and intense, so I’ve had to do a fair bit of starting fresh, rather than working with the same people multiple days or weeks in a row. Also, much of the social scene among train folks involves drinking at bars, either in Anchorage, Fairbanks or Healy, and this is something I prefer to avoid because it is an enormous and totally optional fund-sap and the effects of alcohol on my body have proven 9 times out of 10 to be more negative than positive. I still maintain, when the mood strikes, that “I’m a pirate and can drink as much as is necessary!” So I am as ever, quite susceptible to challenges. But happy to abstain for now.
In the past few days, both in and out of bars, and during down-time on the train, I’ve had some good conversations and card games and other social activities with a few of my co-workers. So seeds of friendship have been planted, anyway. Now it’s just a matter of taking advantage of when our schedules do overlap to continue getting to know each other and hopefully going out into the wild some more. I’ve barely seen the Portland/Wasilla girls. I’m considering asking the scheduling lady to try to coordinate our runs more often if she can. In the meantime, I’ll do what I can, and sleep when my body demands sleep instead of going out, and try to enjoy my solitary down-time. It’s not as though I’m starved for human contact; I endure an abundance of it every day I work on the train. The difference is that spending time acting friendly and cheerful to strangers is rather draining, while having friends is restorative and beneficial to the soul, and essential to my happiness.
I have met some wonderful, kind and engaging passengers. Usually there are a couple in each group that want to have a real conversation with me. I always enjoy that, and find something to learn. I met a lovely couple from Kentucky (hello, if you’re reading this!) who were passionate about scuba diving, which recalled my latent desire for learning that world and those skills. A possible job for some time in the next few meandering years—working as a divemaster on a sailboat somewhere warm and tropical. Sounds ideal! Yesterday I met a man from Hawaii, which reminded me that that would be a pretty sweet place to live. And I’ve had a few good chats with Australians (although in general they are unpopular on the train because they are not accustomed to tipping), and they’ve recommended some good backpacking destinations in their part of the world.
I have yet to settle on a next destination or employment goals for the near or more distant future. I have many ideas, and I still have some time to consider.
Pictures will be forthcoming soon, I promise. Technology and I don't seem to have lots of patience for each other. But I'll get to it.
I'm launching into another six days in a row of work, but I'm slightly more prepared for it this time. I hope.
My last day off (before today) was Thursday. Much of that day was devoted to such grown-up activities as paying rent and utility bills for my house. I had to open a new bank account out here because Bank of America only has one ATM in the whole state of Alaska (located at the 5th Ave. Anchorage Mall), so now my money is stashed in 3 places instead of 1 (not to mention the little stashes of cash I tend to keep in my room, in case of emergencies, a need for bail money, or a particularly rainy day when I decide to buy a ticket elsewhere). So far I’m managing to keep good track of it all, mostly by never spending anything on anything if I can help it.
Some of you, familiar with my antipathy toward cooking and preparing food for myself may be wondering how I’m getting along in the self-feeding department. To be honest, it’s been less of a burden than I anticipated. Lunch and snacks are provided on the train when we head north-bound, as are breakfast and lunch south-bound. When we stay over in Healy, we also get dinner at the employee lodging there. The food is pretty bad, but it’s free and warm and probably has some protein, and it’s food and that’s sufficient for me. They also usually have fruit, which is a luxury I’ve come to appreciate immensely here. I’ve always liked fruit, but I took it for granted as a kid and in college. Now that I have to buy my own groceries in Alaska, I’ve turned into something of a fruit smuggler. Most food is really expensive here, because we’re at least 1500 miles from civilization (unless you count Canada ;) and much further from most sunny warm places where fruit is grown, so by the time it gets here it is both over-priced and less than inspiringly fresh. Thus, I purchase it sparingly. But I usually take at least 2 apples when they show up on the train, eat whatever orange slices are left in my garnish tray at the end of a run, and adopt a couple of apples and oranges every time I’m at the Healy Homestead, to parcel out to myself over the next day or two.
My roommates, Zack and Blair, also sometimes cook dinner and share it with me. And when I overnight with the train crew in Fairbanks, we are bussed to Fred Meyer (the local grocery superstore) where we generally buy microwavable sustenance for the night. My purchases on those excursions thus far have included: an apple with a jar of peanut butter and a pre-made tuna sandwich (which was disgusting and inedible, not a mistake I have repeated) three boxes of granola bars, a bag of grapes, a frozen burrito, a frozen Indian dish, a box of Easy Mac packets (not sufficiently thought through- those require microwavable bowls, which the BVI does not supply, so I improvised and used the flimsy ice bucket I found in my room and supervised to ensure it wouldn’t melt). As you can see, far from a glamorous or especially nutritious collection of food, but so far I have been too lazy to plan ahead and cook something to bring on the train and microwave when I get there. I am also usually too tired to do much on the nights when I return from a run to my house in Anchorage, and my supplies are limited. I’ve eaten some beans, some bean and rice mixtures, a couple of tuna sandwiches I made myself (all of which validated my decision to shell out 8 bucks for a real can opener, rather than continuing to struggle with Blair’s gadget-knife). On one of my recent days off, I actually went so far as cutting up some vegetables and adding them and a few spices to the pasta and tomato sauce I was cooking. And I made one delicious egg scramble with tuna, feta, onion and salsa in it. But that’s about as ambitious as my culinary projects have gotten. As long as survival, basic nutrition, lack of effort and frugality remain my primary kitchen concerns, this approach will have to do.
I have now been here long enough that some existential questions have begun to nag at me. I know that I will be here until the end of September. During that time, I hope to earn a lot of money, though I don’t think I’ll walk away with nearly what I imagined before I started. I also hope to see a healthy bit more of Alaska, and take advantage of some of the unique and magical properties of this place. These two goals are somewhat in conflict with one another, but I expect some kind of balance can be struck. Additionally, I would like to develop a few more friendships with my co-workers out here, if for nothing else at least to have company and assistance in seeking Epic Alaskan Adventures (since my resources and knowledge of the area and what to prioritize are severely lacking, and hiking/camping/climbing and other excursions are usually more fun when not undertaken solo.) I enjoy and am comfortable in my own company, but it’s something I prefer in moderate doses.
I’ve made some progress in the friend-making department. It’s been slow because, in addition to the fact that my standards are high and it takes some time for me to declare myself “friends” with someone new, our schedules are erratic, unpredictable and intense, so I’ve had to do a fair bit of starting fresh, rather than working with the same people multiple days or weeks in a row. Also, much of the social scene among train folks involves drinking at bars, either in Anchorage, Fairbanks or Healy, and this is something I prefer to avoid because it is an enormous and totally optional fund-sap and the effects of alcohol on my body have proven 9 times out of 10 to be more negative than positive. I still maintain, when the mood strikes, that “I’m a pirate and can drink as much as is necessary!” So I am as ever, quite susceptible to challenges. But happy to abstain for now.
In the past few days, both in and out of bars, and during down-time on the train, I’ve had some good conversations and card games and other social activities with a few of my co-workers. So seeds of friendship have been planted, anyway. Now it’s just a matter of taking advantage of when our schedules do overlap to continue getting to know each other and hopefully going out into the wild some more. I’ve barely seen the Portland/Wasilla girls. I’m considering asking the scheduling lady to try to coordinate our runs more often if she can. In the meantime, I’ll do what I can, and sleep when my body demands sleep instead of going out, and try to enjoy my solitary down-time. It’s not as though I’m starved for human contact; I endure an abundance of it every day I work on the train. The difference is that spending time acting friendly and cheerful to strangers is rather draining, while having friends is restorative and beneficial to the soul, and essential to my happiness.
I have met some wonderful, kind and engaging passengers. Usually there are a couple in each group that want to have a real conversation with me. I always enjoy that, and find something to learn. I met a lovely couple from Kentucky (hello, if you’re reading this!) who were passionate about scuba diving, which recalled my latent desire for learning that world and those skills. A possible job for some time in the next few meandering years—working as a divemaster on a sailboat somewhere warm and tropical. Sounds ideal! Yesterday I met a man from Hawaii, which reminded me that that would be a pretty sweet place to live. And I’ve had a few good chats with Australians (although in general they are unpopular on the train because they are not accustomed to tipping), and they’ve recommended some good backpacking destinations in their part of the world.
I have yet to settle on a next destination or employment goals for the near or more distant future. I have many ideas, and I still have some time to consider.
Pictures will be forthcoming soon, I promise. Technology and I don't seem to have lots of patience for each other. But I'll get to it.
I'm launching into another six days in a row of work, but I'm slightly more prepared for it this time. I hope.
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