Migrating South for the Summer

At the end of May, when I returned to my hometown area of Winlock, Washington, I thought the adjustment would be easier than at Christmas, but I still had quite a shock.

People typically say that going back to your homeplace at Christmas after working in the bush is shocking. In 5 months you become accustomed to a completely new way of life and climate. I remember landing in Seattle in December, then sitting in a car on a freeway with so many green trees!

Supermarkets explode with colorful fruit displays, ceilings of stores are tall and spacious, and there are so many different races of people living such different types of lives within one general location. So acclimating to my old way of life took a few days, but before long I was at the end of my Christmas vacation zipping around in a car, grabbing my hot eggnog latte and laughing with friends like old times. So next time coming back to Washington can't possibly be quite as shocking... right?

Wrong. It was about the same shocking experience all over again. In the late winter and spring months, I started using my new snowmachine to get to the stores and other villages. My tongue picked up more of the "village English" which consists of more of a Yupik way of telling stories, a different way of structuring sentences, short phrases used frequently, a certain intonation of the voice while talking, and a more select separate bank of vocabulary. Suddenly I found it strange that I felt awkward in a place that I call my true home-- my own comfort zone.

Some mannerisms from living in Alakanuk got engrained into my everyday routine. They stuck with me for a couple days which sometimes caused a little confusion or a laugh.

For example, my dad asked me a simple question like, "Are you hungry? Do you want to get something to eat on our way home?" and I answered yes. A few seconds later I furrowed my brow at him wondering why he was still staring at me directly in my eyes. He repeated, somewhat exasperated, "Do you want to get something to eat?" I said, "I answered! Oh wait, I'm so sorry. I must have raised my eyebrows and not said anything. Yes, I'd love to stop somewhere to eat!" After living with Yupiks for so long who often forgo a verbal "yes" for an eyebrow raise, I had gotten used to also becoming quiet and opting for an eyebrow lift when answering questions.

After sleeping off some exhaustion from traveling, I woke up to go visit my aunt who was having chemo in Portland. As I was leaving, I thought to myself, "What's the weather like?" so I could properly choose my face protection. Then I remembered I was driving a car, so most likely goggles and a wind-proof balaclava wouldn't be quite so appropriate. I grabbed my drivers license (people need those???) and headed out. As I was getting on the freeway, I had an instant panicking thought to check the gas gauge because Portland was at least 60 miles away and I didn't know how many miles had been driven on this tank, etc. Then I had to remind myself again, "Okay. Not my snowmachine. Cars have larger tanks AND there are gas stations along the way. And if I need food or water there are plenty of places available."

After being in Washington and traveling around, I am grateful to have the experience of living and teaching in the bush of Alaska. There are many advantages that make me sincerely love the people I live with and the area they have introduced me to. Often this summer, I have looked at my pictures of the wide Yukon, the sparkling snow, and at the people with rich hearts I have gotten to know. It is a distinct culture with practiced ancient traditions, loving people, and unfortunately also much anguish. Although I'm not sure of the exact purpose for God leading me to the Arctic Tundra, I know I'm blessed from it. I look forward to going back.