7/12/14
Wiley Post–Will Rogers Memorial Airport, Alaska (BRW)
In a previous entry, I mentioned how I prefer to observe culture in
macrocosm, rather than in microcosm, but I did not fully explore what I mean by
culture. Culture, quite simply, is the
way local people live their daily lives.
It is what they eat, what they do, what they wear, how they talk, how
they cope with the environment, their values.
It is all of that. It is not the
ancestral rituals they perform on special occasions. It is not the formal dress they wear on a
special occasion. Culture is the sound
of Castries singing Easter music.
Culture is sitting down with Trinidadians in Port of Spain to enjoy
fried chicken and whiskey on Easter.
Culture is not the painted streets of Tegucigalpa in preparation for
Easter. Culture is not the parades on
Good Friday in Valle de Angeles. It
certainly is not the tradition Eskimo dance that was to be performed at the
cultural center today. When Sokol asked
me if I wanted to go, I flat out refused.
I told him that it was “fake culture.”
What did that mean? It means that
they put it on as a show. It was the
Bedouin camp with Taglit all over again.
Those were actors playing a part.
The real culture was the Bedouin camp went to on my own in Jordan. Sitting down with the locals, smoking
cigarillos in their tent while we ate grilled chicken, that was real
culture. The show they put on for our
group on the other side of the river was fake culture. Sokol did not understand. I tried to give him an example. Which is a better idea of American culture:
the Memorial Day Parade or a summer barbeque?
The answer is obvious. It is the
summer barbeque. How many songs are
written about the Memorial Day parade?
It is certainly not what Avril Lavigne describes in her song “Bitchin
Summer.” That is how Americans live
their lives. The bonfire we saw last
night while we were driving back from the Point was real culture. The seal meat we saw hanging out to dry was
real culture. The whale meat we ate this
afternoon was real culture. The dance he
wanted to see today was fake culture. I
always try to avoid those things, knowing that it will give me no insight into
culture. That I flat out refused to
do that today with him. Walking around
the town, along with the tour we had last night, was the best insight we were
going to get into Inupiat culture.
When
we got back to the hotel last night, I could not sleep. It was 3:30 AM, and the sun had not set, nor
would it, and people in New York were just starting to wake up. I uploaded my photos and published some more
photos before forcing myself to sleep.
Having been told that breakfast ended at 11 AM and that we needed to
check out by noon, we woke up a little after 10 AM. I showered and got dressed, getting to the
restaurant just before 11 AM, but they said breakfast was over. I saw a huge pile of bacon on the grill. Knowing that I would have been very satisfied
with a plate of bacon and some coffee, I asked if I could just have that. The waitress said that I could have breakfast
if I ordered right away. I did. I got the steak of eggs which was not
terribly overpriced, along with a side of bacon and coffee. Then I realized that I forgot my pills. I headed up, bumping into Sokol along the
way, telling him it was too late for breakfast.
I got my pills and headed back down to find Sokol sitting down. He had ordered eggs, getting bacon as his
side for me. I then went to change my
side of bacon to reindeer sausage so that I could have both. I really do like the reindeer sausage, and I
will miss it when I get back. After
breakfast, we headed back up, and I picked up a midnight sun keychain from the
hotel gift shop. Then we got a knock on
the door saying that checkout was at 11 AM and that they were going to charge
us a late checkout fee. Sokol told them
what they told us last night, but they said that was wrong.
 |
| Charles Barrow's famous, historic house. |
We hurried to finish getting ready and got
down before noon. Before I gave them my
credit card, I checked to make sure that the late checkout fee was not being
added to the bill. It was not. We headed outside, and I lit up my Fuente,
or, I tried to. The lighter was out of
gas, and I tried with matches. No
dice. I headed back to the hotel and
found our hotel driver from last night smoking a cigarette. Someone else was with her, and he offered me
a lighter. When he saw I had a cigar, he
went to get some matches, saying that I should not use the lighter with the
cigar. He was wrong. Any butane lighter is fine to use with a
cigar. It is a Zippo that would ruin the
cigar. He seemed to know better, and I
didn’t feel like arguing with him. He
bought his cigars in Fairbanks, so he must have known what he was saying. After taking some pictures at Charles Barrow’s
famous, historic house, we headed into town, intending to go the souvenir shop
and maybe walking around some more. The
town was, quite politely, a dump. There
was nothing to be seen there. It was
just a larger, drier, colder version of Fort Simpson. I got a t-shirt and a keychain at the
souvenir shop, and it started to rain.
 |
| The Arctic Ocean. |
We took our first official Us in the Arctic Ocean, which was no easy
feat, since it involved navigating some
tough rocks in my boot in the rain, but
we did it. When we got back to the hotel,
I clipped my cigar to save the rest for later, both because it had gone out and
because I had no desire to smoke out in the rain. The third-place match of the World Cup was
on, so we watched Holland destroy the host nation. While we were watching, Kristen, our driver,
offered us some whale meat, which we gladly accepted. It tasted very rubbery, and I could not
imagine making a meal out of it. Sokol
took a nap while I planned out the details of our next few days, still
intending to continue with #NoGPS. After
we finished, we went to get lunch, burgers at the restaurant. They were delicious, and the price was
reasonable, about half the price of breakfast.
With nothing left to do for the next hour or so, we took naps until we
had to leave for the airport. When we
got to the airport, I relit the rest of my cigar and then proceeded to write
this entry, which I will now close.
Wasilla, Alaska
To continue on my theme of culture, not all culture is ethnic or
racial. Gun culture, for example, is a
great illustration of this concept. Here
in Wasilla, Sarah Palin’s home, it is appropriate to consider how different the
culture of the “red states” are from those of the “blue states.” It is not just a difference of politics or
demographics or education or values, though it is all of those. It is entirely different lifestyle. There was a sign at a restaurant we visited
that welcomed holstered firearms and encouraged “judicious marksmanship” if the
need arose. Our tour guide last night
had a shotgun casually lying on the floor of the van, right where we were
sitting. You do not see this in New
York. It is as much of a culture shock
as anything else you can experience in the United States.
 |
| Our jeep for Phase 2. |
After I closed at the airport, we lost both
of our lighters to security. The one we
left in Anchorage was practically broken.
I knew that we need to get new lighters when we got back. I fell asleep as soon as we took off and woke
up as we were making our approach. I
figured that we could go back to a cigar store to get new lighters. They were all closed. Ugh.
Maybe I could find one at a gas station.
We took the shuttle back to the parking lot and walked across the street
to get our car, stopping at the same place where we had lunch yesterday. It was closed. At this point in the trip, we have blown our
food budgets, so I said that we should start eating more economically. We went to what was basically a 7-11 and got
hot dogs. It was quick, easy, cheap,
delicious, and filling. They also had
torch lighters. I lit up my Davidoff
while Sokol had a Rocky Patel.
Continuing without GPS, we were at our hotel less than an hour
later. The clerk at the front desk
wanted to chat us up, but we just wanted to get up to our rooms, since we have
an early start tomorrow. We were both
two polite to say anything. When we got
up to our room, Sokol took an unofficial U, while I rearranged some stuff in my
bags and got ready for the morning.
After Sokol’s unofficial U, I took an official one and then proceeded to
write this entry, which I will now close.
No comments:
Post a Comment