A New Home

It was a quiet walk from the airport to the house. I'm not sure why. Maybe I was even talking or attempting to listen, but I don't remember the conversation. Theresa, my roommate, was patient with my video-taking as the plane sputtered off over the low green trees. The four-wheeler that had picked up the other passengers on the plane was long gone and we were the only two people around. I pocketed my camera and inspected the scene around me as we walked.
Rocks with quartz and pink and blue minerals were lodged in the dry dirt road. My winter jacket seemed stuffy in comparison to the crisp air and blue open skies. Down through the thick brush on one side of the road, bright specks reflected off some water back through the dark contrast of the branch's silhouettes. Although the trees are short, they were dense and blocked my view around me. Luckily, I had Theresa leading me towards our new home. Not knowing which direction my house was in, let alone what was around the corner was unnerving. Theresa pointed to my right towards the dump and explained that she liked to walk her dog a place on the river they call the "Dock." It got its name because it used to have boats launch from there (I'm not sure if it's still used as that today).
We chose to take a common back-route and "hop the pipe" to get to the housing complex. I wasn't expecting to see such long unkempt grass bordering the wooden boardwalks, but I'm told it'll be covered soon once the snow comes. The duplex is much nicer, newer, and more spacious than I expected.
After unpacking a bit and sharing a meal at a couple's house who are returning teachers, we all went for a walk towards the dock. My roommate warned me of a couple good village rules: 1) Always get as far off the road as you can, no matter what time of day-- they could be drunk. (It's a dry village, thus the bootlegging and drunks during the day.) 2) Never stop while walking through the dump. (It is-- SMELLY.) Good thing I had mud boots on. The dump is really just a large uncontrolled area where people literally just drop off their trash. There are usually small fires going to contain some of the volume, but recycling here doesn't exist.


Just past the dump, around the middle of the mosquito swarm (no joke), a Yup'ik woman was driving toward us with some driftwood dragging behind her and the biggest smile on her face. She stopped the engine and jumped off to give a returning teacher a warm hug. Her tears of joy made me realize just a little bit of how difficult it must be to live in such a small village and living with the unknown. No one knows which person will leave and never come back. So the return is quite powerful for those relationships that were so strong. I didn't ask what made the reunion seem so intimate and vulnerable, but I have a feeling I'll learn more in time.

We finished walking to the dock, which is a beautiful spot at the edge of the Yukon. A vast and powerful river. A source for food, peace, travel, income, and fear. I have so much to learn and experience here. And how different it will look when the trees lose their leaves and the river freezes over! The walk back was again, somewhat quiet. Or maybe, again, I was just lost in my own thoughts.

I am not in the least bit settled into my new place, as boxes keep arriving at the post office. This is good, since no boxes started arriving until yesterday afternoon. Now they're coming in great abundance.
The post office experience is definitely different from anywhere else I've lived. Alakanuk has one of the best postmasters in the world I'm sure. First off, everyone has her phone number. Everyone knows when and how many planes come into the village. And once one person knows there are packages for the teachers, we come flocking equipped with the pick-up to load them all up. After eating pilot crackers (a popular plain cracker) and bagged tuna, we get pretty excited thinking our food might actually be getting here.
Yesterday, I got two boxes from Costco. It's so exciting to open up the boxes and to load the contents into the white glaringly empty pantry. This afternoon, we got even more boxes. Everyone was helping each other take boxes off the truck, load them on a dolly, and carry them into the housing. As I pulled the dolly back from my house, I wish I had a camera to take a picture of at least ten staff members surrounding the pick-up and a mountain of boxes. But, what I really wanted to capture was their smiling faces as they acted like it was Christmas.
Before tonight, I have never ran next door to ask if my friends if they wanted to view my growing collection in the pantry. What's exciting is that they can understand my excitement for the new food. However, I guess it's interesting how I feel as if I have "fresh" veggies, when in reality it's a can of off-brand green beans. Or how I had to drink two celebratory glasses of Soy Milk and gaze longingly at my powdered eggs, feeling like an honorary Dairy Princess. I've still got at least a month before real meat. Who knows what kind of a party I'll throw then!

Breakfast Party at noon at Theresa and my place.

Conqueror of Alakanuk Mountain. The one, the only, the highest elevation.
A.K.A. The dirt pile at the dock.

We picked Fireweed, the purple flowers, to have Mel teach us how to make Fireweed Jelly!