Friday

It's way past eleven and the sun hasn't set.

Hey Miriam, we're going for a boat ride. You want to come?

So we went up river

and enjoyed a midnight sunset.

Reflections

"Heaven on Earth"
Aniak, Alaska
May 2008

There is a lot of water all around these days. It's very gratifying to walk around just staring at the ground. And no, it's not a small river. Just a big puddle.

Breakup

"Lost in the Ice"
Aniak, Alaska
May 9, 2008

Yesterday at 3 pm the phone rang. "The river has just broken, let's go." So we went. Break-up is the big spring event. Days before, everyone is watching the river and trying to read the signs that announce it. And as soon as the first crack sounds, everyone in town knows about it.


Once it starts, there is no going back. The dike becomes the observation point. Everyone in town drops by to check out the river during the day, and there are parties and bonfires at night... or whatever you're supposed to call that time of the day when it should be dark but it's really not all that dark anymore


While the river does its thing, we are all watching closely the changes in the ice. Is it rising? Is it not? Is it flowing? Has it fully stopped? It's quite a show that nature gifts us with. The river changes constantly and those changes involve long quiet hours where it seems like nothing is really happening out there. However, every time we go watch, it looks completely different.


Now we will just have to wait and hope that all those ice blocks that come floating by don't get stuck down river and flood us. There are already lists posted with emergency numbers and shelters. People are starting to bring their dogs and motor vehicles to high ground, gathering enough food at home of the kind that doesn't need water for preparation, as well as drinking and cooking water in containers, and making sure the boats are handy in case they end up needing them. We don't have a boat, so we'll have to manage with a kayak and a raft, in the worse case scenario.


In a way, the idea of flooding sounds almost exciting. And it is also true that at this point, I rather find excitement in a different way. Sometimes it is good to leave the new experiences and constant challenges on the side for a while, and chill out enjoying that which has already become familiar.

So the time has come to wait and hope for the best, since there is nothing else I can do about it.

Cold... very cold...

"The road back home"
Aniak, Alaska
January 2008

At 40 below, life slows down. At least, my life slows down, because truly, in town, until temperatures reach 50 below life goes on more or less as usual. Schools are open, and so are the store, the clinic, and the post office. Beyond 50 below, people stay home, kids don't go to school, and cars don't want to start.

I've been staying indoors for a few days, except for some short trips to the shed to fetch wood for the stove. Temperatures have been dancing between 30 and 40 below for the past couple of weeks. My usual means of transportation, the ATV, doesn't start at 30 below. And walking I can reach the neighbor's house before I start worrying if my son has frozen to death in the backpack. So life these days doesn't really offer much else to think about other than the freezing cold out there. I'm still not used to it and my tolerance is low in comparison to some of the people that live here.

Of course, it's essential to dress up accosdingly. In winter here, you don't really wear winter clothes, but serious mountain gear. The kind you wear if you were to climb Mount Everest, almost. Of course, no cotton clothes, which are the worst for cold weather (small detail I have leaned by freezing my butt off a couple times). Of course, always wear layers, onion style, so you can take them off accordingly depending on where you are going, how high they have set their thermostat, and how long you're planning on staying. Snow pants on top of regular warm pants, since skirts here are really never in fashion. Boots that advertise as keeping your feet warm at 70 below, which is not true, but at least you know that you can stay warm at 30 below. And a good expensive parka, because you can't be cheap with your winter clothes in Alaska or you risk a frozen death.

To top it all off, get yourself a good fur hat, a facemask, a good scarf up to your eyes, and a couple pairs of gloves. Basically all that remains to be seen of your body are your eyes, as long as you're walking and there is no wind.Otherwise, add a good pair of googles, that hopefully don't fog up too easily.

I can assure you that the worst part is not trying to move with anything that resembles class and style, but getting all of this gear on you before you leave the house. By the time you are ready to go, you are usually drenched in sweat. It's essential to develop a technique that will allow you to accomplish this process in the minimum amount of time, to avoid profuse sweating. And no, you can't wait until you get outside to put on the mask, scarf, hat and gloves. At 40 below, by the time you get your gloves on, your hands have already frozen and there is no way they will warm up while you're out there.

There is a very interesting phenomenon that happens when you reach subzero temperatures. It's easy to get used to, but at first is very peculiar. With each inhale the inside of your nostrils freeze up, and with each exhale, they thaw. The sensation is hard to describe, because I have never experienced anything even remotely similar. Imagine a thin layer of ice filling the inside of your nose and cracking if you move your nose around like a little bunny rabbit. In this temperature, you do have no other option than to breathe through your nose, so the air that comes in can warm up slightly. And every little bit of warmth is vital these days.

Today we have woken up to a whoopin' 38 below, and by mid afternoon we were at 1 below. A difference of almost 40 degrees Farenheit in 8 hours! That's pretty wild. It seems like temperatures may stay "high" like this for a few days. If so, we will be able to go for a walk, skiing, or snow machining without freezing up along the way.

Everything is relative, of course, and the way we judge things depends on the color of the glasses you are wearing that day and that latitude in which you happen to live. Who could have ever imagined that zero degrees F would some day be a fan-tas-tic temperature.

Closeness

"Afternoon stories"
Amiak, AK
July 2007

It used to be that when people packed their bags and left everything behind to go to a far away land, that land was usually exactly that: far away. Sometimes even very far away, like a different planet. It used to be that the only means of communication was the postal service, and letters could take years to reach their destination, if they ever did. With time and the increased generalized use of the telephone, we started being able to speak directly with our loved ones that were far away. It could take hours to get an international conference set up and when you finally had it, it could drop any minute. But it was good. anyhow, it used to be that if you were away from your people, you were away, and the distance was palpable.

Nowadays, with all the technological inventions that have become part of our daily lives, those insurmountable distances have ceased to exist. And the great culprit is, no doubt about it, the Internet.

For starters, if it weren't for the Internet, I would've never met David. If it weren't for the Internet, he would've never known about this job in Alaska. And if it weren't for the Internet, I would've never agreed to leave my life in Seattle and move to Aniak.

Moving to a small village near the tundra in Southwest rural Alaska was not in my plans for the future. A small village where 527 of the 13.000 people of the Kuskokwim watershed live. This area is about half the size of Spain and it's really easy to feel isolated and alone. A village where there is no cellphones. A town where there is only one radio station that I have found so far, KYUK from Bethel, which sounds kind of surreal in my ears because of the mix of music from my teenage years (Sex Pistols, AC/DC, Led Zeppelin...) with long and slow talks in Yup'ik, language that I don't understand. A village to which we have not brought a TV because it's been a long time since we've had one. A village that is far, far away. Not from Siberia, though, it's actually pretty close from Siberia, just a couple hours by small plane probably. But far away from all the people I love, from everything that is familiar, and from all my favorite places on the planet.

Thankfully, this small village got satellite Internet connection 3 months before we arrived. And suddenly this village doesn't seem so far away. From that village, lost in the middle of one of the largest extensions of wilderness left on the planet, I open windows to other worlds every day. My friends drop by to chat in the mornings, grandpa shows up to enjoy Naím's smile for a while, grandma comes over to sing a few songs to him, I say hi to people here and there when I run into them in the ciber-street, I find pieces of people's lives that I enjoy reading...

And even though it's true that the senses of touch, taste, and smell are not a part of the experience of being with those that are far away and close at the same time, sight and sound are. So, even if the experience is incomplete, the company is very real and the feeling of loneliness and distance become less intense. Thanks for being there.

I did it!!

"Ice Road"
Aniak, Alaska
January 2008

Yesterday I did what I thought would take me months to do (or years, perhaps). I was able to gather all my courage and cross the frozen river without freaking out completely. It may not sound that scary, but when I think that under that frozen layer of ice, that may be a few feet thick run the cold waters of the Kuskokwim river, the longest free-flowing river in the US, things get a little scary. I was scared to death! I will admit that when I realized we were on ice, not land, for a few seconds I thought my heart had stopped, but I was able to relax and enjoy the ride pretty quickly.

At this time of the year, the water is sufficiently frozen so that a large part of the river is used as an Ice Road. It is the only time of the year that you can leave town and go anywhere on wheels. In the summer you can only travel by boat, since we are fully surrounded by water on all sides. And during freeze-up and break-up, there is just no moving around anywhere unless you are flying.

Snow machines, four-wheelers, pick-ups, and even bigger trucks go on the river when the Ice Road officially opens. And even though this information should offer some sense of security to a total Alaska newbie like me, it is also true that here and there you can run into open water or overflow, and you need to recognize them easily in order to avoid them. Everyone in town seems to have a scary story about when they traveled on the river, fell through open water, and miraculously saved their lives. So the security that the first sentence could offer gets brutally destroyed by the second one. It's also true that a great number of the accidents that occur in the river are accompanied by darkness and alcoholism, but it was still scary for me, even in bright daylight.

I am very proud of having conquered one of my biggest fears in this little corner of the world. Once more, I see that we do gain in strength and courage after we do something that we were afraid of doing. It becomes important to reduce the mental space that the incessant chatter of our fears occupies in our brains, so our energy can be transformed into action. Giving in to our fears only increases them, and this usually has a paralyzing effect. With this cold, being paralyzed in not such a good idea.

Thankful

"Home and steam house"
Aniak, Alaska
January 2008

For the past two weeks, we have had no running water. Even though melting snow on the wood stove may have a romantic touch to it, it surely disappears completely when it's time to wash dishes. Today, finally, the house has return to its normal state and water runs through the pipes, carrying incredible amounts of rust along. But that is what you get when you live here in Aniak.

I do have to say that we have been very lucky. Somehow it has been possible that George, one of the few handymen in Aniak, in a record time of two weeks, has found and installed for us a new water pump. In Aniak, this is ahuge. And I'm not kidding. Here the norm is that anybody will make you wait for months before deciding to do any kind of work for you. Because they feel like it, because they can, and because they don't want to work too hard. Or maybe it's just that they don't like us foreigners. Anyway, you can't open the yellow pages and call another plumber, because there are no yellow pages and no other plumbers.

The few businesses in town are a grocery store, a gas station, and a cute and very small pizza cabin. Coming from the country that probably has the greatest number of bars, restaurants, coffee shops and pubs per square mile, living in a town where there is no place for social gathering other than Bingo is odd, to say the least. We have bingo of course, but no restaurants or bars.

I'm losing my train of thought here, let me regroup. Being without running water for two weeks has made me think about the little attention that we place on so many things that we take for granted in or "civilized" civilization. To open a faucet and have cold or hot water instantly. Hit a light switch and light appears. Put dirty clothes in a machine and they come out clean. Flush the toilet and get rid of your shit. Commodities that nowadays we take for granted and even think we have the right to have. And no, what they really are is a luxury.

My daily shower has always been my favorite moment of the day to go through the list of things that I am thankful for in my life. Now my list includes things such as a water pump, a washer, and a water pipe, even if it's all rusty.

Randi

"Randi"
Aniak, AK
January 2008

Today, the family has grown. Just like that, without warning, a young dog has found his way into our home. Black, white spot on his chest, hair not long or short. Shy, scared, he looks almost like a puppy and has that look in his eyes so characteristic of dogs that have been mistreated in the past. For months now I've been holding my ground about not having a dog again, but those eyes won the battle today. Naím has named him Randi and Tola has seriously hissed at him to let him know who is the real boss around here.

Randi will be a good companion at home during David's numerous trips. He will also be great on our hikes. It's always nice to have a dog with you in addition to a GPS, so necessary to go anywhere in this chaotic wilderness that surrounds us. We will have to see how he reacts to the presence of a wild animal, whenever we encounter one. Here they say that if a dog is unable to jump between a bear (or any other animal) and you in order to defend his owner from an attack, you are better off shooting him dead. Tough people up here.

In Aniak, no home is without dogs. At least two or three, and up to fifteen or twenty in some cases. Most of them are sled dogs. After moose season is over, in late September, they start running the dogs using the four-wheelers, getting ready for winter. Many people here are into mushing. It used to be the common transportation many years ago, but with the introduction of the small planes first and the snow machine later, they have been relegated to a winter hobby.

Perhaps you have heard about the Iditarod, the most famous sled dog race in Alaska. It starts in Anchorage and goes all the way to Nome, about 1200 miles west. This annual race commemorates that twenty of Alaska’s best mushers and their teams took a five day journey in 1925, through part of this same trail, to deliver medication to Nome. Because of this, it was possible to avoid a larger expansion of a diphtheria epidemic in the area. Be aware that the epidemics killed about 60% of the native population in the beginning of the 20th century. Because of this, the members of the expedition (both men and dogs alike) are considered national heroes.

Each area in Alaska has its own personal Iditarod race. The one in Aniak is the K-300 and sadly, it ended the day before we arrived back in town from our Christmas vacation, so we couldn't see it as it came through town. We will have to wait for next year.

In the meanwhile, maybe we can start training Randi to pull Naím's sled.

No light

"Before night falls"
Castro de Baroña, A Coruña
December 2007

There are days in which optimism, happiness, and the desire to stay in Alaska just evaporate. The same than the water on the pan on top of my wood stove, which helps improve the relative humidity of the air.

Those are usually also days in which I am always cold, I have a harder time taking care of myself, I feel very lazy to do any yoga even though I am aware that I feel much better afterward... Those days in which things don't seem to make much sense. In those days, the only activities with a clear objective are those related to cleaning, cooking and being a mother. en fin, en los que en que las cosas parecen no tener mucho sentido. En esos días, las única actividades con un objetivo claro son aquellas que están relacionadas con la limpieza, la cocina y la maternidad. When I reach that point, I start becoming gray and dark.

Evidently having a cold doesn't help at all. I've dragged it around for weeks and I haven't left the house in fear of catching pneumonia again. It also doesn't help that I still haven't started up my yoga classes, my all girls craft group, or my photography walks...

So I have decided to extend my yoga mat in front of the fire and do a little yoga and self-massage mix. And since the sun has come out, when David comes back home from work and Naím wakes up from his nap, we'll go for a walk to the river with my camera.

Because after three days of dark grayness, I'm bored of myself.


(Original post published in De acá para allá on January 25, 2007)

Home sweet home

"Mountain Sea"
Alaska on our way to Aniak
December 2007

Finally, we are back home. After three days of planes, airports, and little sleep, we have finally reached Aniak. Winter greeted us with an incredible 40 F, when last week it reached 40 below. And even though the snow is melting fast, I am happy that life is offering us a smooth transition instead of having to dive into the crude arctic winter right after the Egyptian sun. It seems that around this time of the year there is usually a rise in temperatures and we've arrived just on time to enjoy it.

The return has forced us to start living the most pure Alaskan lifestyle, that is, with no running water. While we were gone, and due logistical errors, we ran out of fuel before we expected, so given that outside it was 30 below, the house froze. Because of this, pipes burst and with them, also the water pump, which cracked from side to side. And without the pump, evidently, there is no water.

So here we are, melting snow to wash dishes and shower in the steam house. To wash clothes we will go to the community center, because washing them with melted snow is not something I'm thrilled to experience. I just hope the snow doesn't melt completely, or we will run out of regular water supply. However, it's great to be home, build fires, and enjoy my cat's purring again.

Well, I better try to get back to sleep. Jet lag is bad right now, so here I am, blogging at 2 AM after having slept five hours and be awakened by a crying little boy, who happens to have the same jet lag then his parents.

In the city of the thousand minarets

"Minarets"
Cairo, Egipto
Enero 2008

Cairo, the city of the thousand minarets, is at once chaotic and comfortable.With approximately 16 million people living together in a huge city, the only thing that doesn't exist here is silence. If it's not the calls to prayer that come out of the speakers of every mosque and ripple through the city like a never ending wave, then it's the incessant honking of the cars and their noisy engines.

Many years ago, I also spent a few days in Cairo. The only feeling I can remember of my visit was panic. Panic due exclusively to the chaotic traffic that runs through the city. This time, thanks to Hassan and my brother-in-law, my new heroes at the wheel, the impression I take a way with me is, Al Hamdu Lellah, much richer. I guess that for those of my friends that are form Mexico City, Cairo's traffic wouldn't be so shocking at all, since they are quite similar. Though there is a fundamental difference: in Mexico I have seen stop lights and drivers who respect them. In Cairo, I have mostly seen yellow stop lights that warn you about intersections. And then, each one figures it out on their own. Cars, people, donkeys, horses, sheep, motorcycles, bicycles, and the occasional freeway sweeper dance and improvised choreography sharing the same space and intertwining without any apparent order and with surprising success.

Though its hard to not feel on occasion like a walking coin, just for the fact of being European in an African country, I take with me a nice impression of the people. I especially liked the natural way in which men express affection among themselves and toward children. This is very unusual in our western societies, where the image of two men holding hands still bring out judgmental glances and where a man smiling or blowing kisses to a child in public would be taken as an unequivocal sign of child molestation. In the western world, women are the only ones allowed such public displays of affection. Then, of course, we have the other side of the coin, since displays of affection between man and women in public are quite discreet. I guess we can't have it all.

We did a few of the typical tourist routes that are inevitable in Cairo: the Pyramids, and the Sphinx, the Citadel, a few mosques, the Coptic neighborhood, Khan el Khalili street market... But the best moments were spent getting lost in small streets away from the masses of tourists that invade Cairo, especially in this time of the year. We walked through very narrow streets filled with skinny cats, garbage, and men drinking tea and smoking sisha. We explored parks like oasis, where young couples go to take their loves for a walk. We ate in small restaurants where you couldn't find a letter, nevertheless a word, that looked familiar (thank god for David's ability to read Arabic and more or less understand what was it that we were about to eat). Watching a woman's extraordinarily happy smile when I asked her to show me how to put on the typical head scarf in the traditional way.

I have not described in justice what I experienced. There are many more impressions, moments, curiosities... many bits of life not told. It's been a great adventure that has reached its end. Tomorrow we take off for Madrid, Sunday we continue in route to Seattle, and Monday we will be back in Alaska. It's been five weeks full of all kinds of emotions, reflexions, entertainment, lots of friends and family, and lots of sun and great weather.

I would not have changed this trip for anything. I have the impression that I have learned a lot and now it's turn to really internalize those teachings. That is, from my little frozen bit of the world, close to the North Pole, and within my daily routine, which I can't wait to get back to. See you there!

Traveling

"A smile from the sky"
Andorra, Teruel
January 2008

With all these travels, I have lost my words. So many airplanes, cars, landscapes, people, foods, smells, and emotions, that my body and soul are numb.

So I drop by to leave a smile captured in the sky a few days ago. From the sky to me, and from me to all of you that drop by here.

Before I travel

"Sunrise at 10 am"
Anchorage, Alaska
December 2007

In a couple of days, we will start our travels that will take us all the way to the other side of the planet. First Seattle, with a short stop to visit family and friends. This stop helps with the thirty-something hours of planes and lay overs that it takes to get to Spain from Alaska. Then Spain, where more than going on vacation it seems like we are going on tour, just like those resurfaced Spice Girls are doing. We will be traveling a lot in order to see everyone: Madrid, Santiago, Teruel, Tarragona, and hopefully even Granada. And finally, before we get back home, we will take a real vacation in Egypt. David's brother lives with his family and we will have some time to rest, visit interesting things, and have Naím enjoy his cousins a little longer.

A part of me really wants to go. Another side of me, really wants to stay. That side would prefer to stay here, watching beautiful sunrises from my kitchen window at ten thirty or eleven, sewing beaver gloves for Naím, teaching yoga, baking bread, cooking, trading massage, enjoying our steam bath, shooting pictures, sharing time with David and Naím... This side of me wants to really live this luxury life we lead lately, with no stress, no hurries, no traffic jams...

I am truly grateful for the opportunity to live this adventure I am living in this inhospitable and yet cozy place on earth. I have not yet left, and I can't wait to come back...

Changes

"Hold on tight"
Aniak, AK
November 2007

Little by little things are changing and taking a more definite shape for us in this wild little corner of the planet. It helps that all of the changes are positive so far. Today I know that the day life takes me away from here, I will miss this little town in the Alaska Bush, my beautiful cabin, and the life I lead here.

One of the most interesting changes these days has to do with my relationship with cold. Up until not long ago, 32F was very very cold for me. In fact, it was freezing cold! Today, 32F is not really all that cold, just chilly. I go out to get some wood with a light sweater on at 32F and I don't feel cold. On the contrary, it feels cool and comfortable. That to me is quite interesting, believe me.

Other surprising changes which I am very grateful for, have stemmed out of my increased socialization as of lately. I have met a woman in town who is also a massage therapist. Who could have imagined that there would be two massage therapists in town and I would have the opportunity to trade and take care of myself in this amazing way. The first time we tried each other out, we were sold. So now every Sunday we meet at home. One week she gets a massage, the following week, I get one. From the table, we jump directly into a steam bath that David has been preparing for us. Well, he really prepares it for himself, but we go in first, just because he likes it so much hotter than ours. So hot, I would almost define it as masochist.

As if finding her had not been enough, it turns out that she has a child who is close to Naím in age. He is a very sweet boy and we've already found out that they get along great, so I'm sure they will be spending some play time together.

So little by little, we are creating an interesting little community around us. Without it, winters here would be much more difficult. Winters that every now and then, surprise us with cool and comfortable days, at 32F.

Changes are so amazing! We fear them so much (or at least I do!). Oh, the famous fear of the unknown! And then I realize that once I decide to live those changes truly being present, when I least expect it, I feel just fine and end up perceiving them as positive in my life.

It is true that humans have an incredible capacity of adaptation to the environment. We can get used to anything, regardless of how impossible it seems before living through it. And aren't we lucky it is this way?

Trapped

"Trapped"
Aniak, AK
November 2007


Ice is endlessly fascinating.

Ice and frozen rivers

"New Ice"
Aniak, AK
November 2007

My solitary trip yesterday to the Post Office ended up being a lovely experience, despite the chill factor that turned those -4F to a crazy -50 something degrees. The sun, the blue sky, and the amazing amount of light thanks to the reflection of the snow made my day. I love this winter combination of sun and snow. It sure beats the hell out of the gloomy skies and rain tht I'm accostumed to.

I took my camera with me and I found out that the river had completely stopped. Ice was jammed up all over the surface and there were open waters here and there. Quiet waters, trapped among the ice, calmly surrendering to the inevitable transformation that lies ahead.

Ice is absolutely fascinating. It takes the most amazing shapes. The small and apparently unimportant things sometimes hide a beauty that is only revealed to those who take the time to stop and look.

Adventures on a Saturday

"Cold"
Aniak, AK
November 2007

First thing I do every morning as soon as I land in the kitchen to make breakfast, is check the outdoor thermometer. Today, I freaked out. Not other than -4F. I will admit I am a little scared of going outside in this kind of weather. So just because of that, that is exactly what I am going to do. So I can start shaking away this fear. As Eleanor Roosevelt wisely stated: "You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face... do the thing you think you cannot do." I should add that aside from gaining strength, courage, and confidence, I also gain resistance to cold weather in this particular case.

So, I will bundle up really well so I can go on my ATV and not freeze in thirty seconds. And when I say really well, I mean really well, because taking into consideration the chill factor and all, I will be feeling some -40F in my face.

Imagine that, a simple drive to the Post Office on a Saturday morning, turns into a personal challenge and a great adventure!

I like Mondays

"Family"
Aniak, Alaska
November 2007

One would imagine that in the Alaska Bush, living many adventures to tell your friends every single day should be easy. In reality, when one lives her life mostly dedicated to the care of the home and its inhabitants, be it in Alaska or wherever, most of the adventures end up smelling like dirty diapers and fried onions.

The adaptation process to my new housewife life style is not being easy. Mostly because for over 20 years I have been defining myself as a professional working woman, financially independent and gastronomically unfit. To change this definition for one that implies doing house chores all day long, being financially dependent on my husband, and cooking every day brings along quite a share of internal re-structuring. It becomes an eclectic process that includes getting over old sticky prejudices or developing a previously inexistent creativity in areas that used to be abandoned in my life, say the kitchen. These new learnings add a transcendental and necessary touch to this process, since its most mundane side can be compared to the act of making a bead necklace without having tied a knot at the end of the string. When I believe I am close to the end and I lift up my work to look at it proudly, all the beads roll all over the floor and I must start all over again. And again... and again...

And then there is the mother area, that leaves no choice but to reinvent yourself from the ground. I have never felt so at home and so out of place and incompetent, all at once. It seems so easy to know exactly what you would do before you actually have any kids. And then they show up in your life, with their smiles that melt universes, those tantrums that test the strongest patiences, and those things only they can come up with, which leave you shocked, or laughing uncontrollably, or both at once. And life changes, because even if they say that life doesn't have to change with children, it does. For good, for bad, for everything...

And finally.. Monday arrives! With it's bad reputation, bringing me back to a part of my self. A part I left behind a while back, that feels good, that brings out the best in me, that I was missing, and that I recognize as authentically mine. Thanks to the opportunity of starting to offer yoga classes in town and later attend a women's group that blends craft making with talks and laughter, life in Aniak is taking on a different color.

These recently started activities offer me a lot. Yoga classes give me the chance to have somewhat of a professional life (even though I'm not really a yoga teacher and I don't even charge for the classes), to feel again like I am collaborating to the wellbeing of others, and to finish getting rid of my fear of leading groups. The women's group gives me the chance to get back to working with my hands making crafts, something I have always been passionate about and I had forgotten somewhere along the way. My first craft is turning into a trappers fur hat, made out of fox, to make sure that at least my ideas and ears don't freeze this winter. But the most important thing is that both groups give me the chance to meet some of the people that live here and start having a social life.

On Mondays I get back a part of myself that I need in order to keep on moving forward. It is being the key element in helping me reach that precarious balance between giving to others and giving to myself. Because without this balance it is so easy to lose myself and end up being swallowed by life, instead of living it fully.

I like Mondays.

Trip to the big city

Mountains near Anchorage
May 2007

About 12 years ago, I arrived in this country with the honest intention of staying just for one year. My first culture shock episode happened inside of a supermarket. I was used to small privately owned stores, and I believe there was only one supermarket chain that had opened in my hometown at the time, which I didn't use very much anyway. Here in the US, on the other hand, the great majority of the supermarkets are enormous stores where you can find at least 100 different brands of cereal. Who on Earth needs one hundred brands of cereal? I thought it was ridiculous and unnecessary, a perfect example of the obscene abundance that characterizes this country.

In the little rural Alaskan town I live in, we have a supermarket where there is probably not more than 5 brands of cereal to choose from. A store where prices are too high, vegetables look too much like plastic, and there is lots and lots of dust. We use it basically to buy eggs, those sprinkled with who knows how many types of hormones and antibiotics. And that is just because it would be hard for eggs to arrive safely in the mail or in our luggage. The rest of what we eat and otherwise consume we buy in the city.

Once every two or three months, just like we are doing now, we come to Anchorage. It's the closest city and the biggest one in Alaska, though it's not the capital of the State. This is also something that has always been interesting for me about this country. The biggest and best known city in the State is never the capital of the State. Completely the opposite of the Spanish logic, where the majority of the capitals have the same name as the provinces they are in, and in most cases they are also the largest cities. One would imagine, coming from Spain, that New York would logically be the capital of New York State. But no, it's Albany. And who has ever heard anything about Albany?

Anyway... since there is no other possible transportation from Aniak, coming to Anchorage implies an hour and a half flight over tundra, rivers, lakes, mountains and glaciers. A simple shopping trip then turns into quite an adventure. We spend hours and hours running from one place to the other buying wholesale food, tools, construction materials, clothes and everything else we will need in order to spend a few months in the bush until the next upcoming trip to the city. Then we have to pack everything you bought into boxes and take them to the Post Office or one of the cargo business at the airport. Mind you, there are very long lines at the Post office usually. And we finally go back home loaded with huge coolers full of fresh vegetables and fruit, as well as refrigerated and frozen items we could not send through the mail. This shopping style is called here "guerrilla shopping." It is a true pain in the ass and pretty stressful, believe me.

On the other hand, a trip to the city also implies the possibility of going to a restaurant, getting a cup of coffee or a drink, going to a park with the kid, walk into a store just because you feel like looking around, driving a car... Many things that you take for granted living in the "civilized" world and that nowadays are an amazing luxury for me.

I would have never imagined that walking into one of those huge stores that scared me 12 years ago, say a Safeway, would feel so comforting. Yes, a Safeway, comforting!! And I don't just get this feeling when grocery shopping. I get it even when experiencing most of those things that I have always disliked from the cities: traffic, noise, concrete, people that pass by without looking at you, or the innumerable straight lines in the urban landscape.

The peace that you get from that which is familiar is something truly powerful. Regardless of it is supposedly "good" or "bad" for you.

My environment

"The Kuskokwim's break-up"
Aniak, Alaska
May 2007


Since today is October 15th and a few days ago I signed up for Blog Action Day, I'll take this chance to talk about why I happened to land in this corner of the world. It has to do with environmental issues.

David, the man I share a journey an a small and beautiful family with, accepted a job in January that implied leaving everything behind and moving to a small town in the Alaska Bush for a period of at least three years. The decision was not an easy one, but we took it and here we are.

Now, David works as the Director of the Kuskokwim River Watershed Council, trying to build the organization from the ground. It is a bit surreal that a guy from Andorra de Teruel, in Spain, has come to Alaska to create an environmental organization that represents the interests of the 29 Yup'ik and Athabascan tribes that live along the longest free flowing river in the US. It is not an easy job, believe me.

The project is still in its initial phases, creating a board of directors with representatives from the different towns and tribes. The idea is to eventually start developing projects that will help in the conservation of the river. The work will focus on environmental issues, though the social and cultural areas are also tremendously important aspects of it. Projects such as river water quality monitoring and recycling programs are starting out. An interesting project that is developing is a summer camp in which elders and children will share a few days together and explore a variety of cultural traditions. Those traditions that with the impact of western civilization and especially television, are slowly dying out. If you are interested, you can visit the Kuskokwim River Watershed Council's website.

Meanwhile, at home, we try to live a life as sustainable as possible. This implies reducing as much as possible the use of fossil resources, trying to recycle as much as possible in a town with no recycling programs yet, and obtaining a big portion of our protein through hunting and fishing in the area. Hopefully, next summer we will have a garden big enough to produce vegetables that will last part of the winter.

What seems impossible to avoid here is the use of one of our biggest contaminants and resource suckers nowadays: airplanes. I recently learned that 1 out of 69 people in Alaska is a pilot. And it is not surprising. Most part of Alaska is like the area of the tundra we live in, with no communication by road other than to get to the dump, which is about 2 miles outside of town. We live far away from Alaska's small road system. At least here we have the river in the winter, and for a few months out of each year, it freezes over and turns into a giant Ice Road, connecting all the villages in the area and allowing people to ride in snow machines or trucks from one place to another.

I'm still scared of going on the frozen river, but I hear that there are trucks that drive on the ice when the ice is at its thickest, so it must be pretty safe. You'll hear all about it! :)