IVP - Strangely Dim

I Don't Know Alaska

Last month I went to Alaska for the first time; technically I've been there before, but only technically. My family crossed a bridge from Canada into a border town, Hyder, just to say we did and to load up on t-shirts.

So technically this was my second trip to Alaska, but my first chance to really see it. I flew in to Anchorage and was met by a friend of mine, who then drove me three hours to our destination, a retreat center outside of Soldotna, the home of Alaska's only Dairy Queen. I wouldn't expect an ice cream shop to be a big draw for people living in "nature's refrigerator," but I'm told that people in Anchorage will make a day of their trip to Dairy Queen. Of course, that day would by necessity involve a lot of driving.

That's OK though, because driving in Alaska is a pleasure. There are mountains and rivers and forests and lakes. There are bald eagles (which I saw) and bears (which I didn't). And oddly enough, though you may be a day's drive from the nearest Dairy Queen, you're never more than a few minutes away from a cup of espresso.

Alaskans refer to the contiguous United States as the "lower 48" and take mild, amused offense at the tendency of map-makers to locate Alaska, for the sake of convenience, off the southern coast of California. If you leave Alaska you're going "outside," which is funny, since during an Alaskan winter the last place you'd want to go is outside.

While in Alaska I ate halibut ("for the halibut"), moose (in a taco--go figure) and reindeer. I'm told that in all likelihood, because our retreat center was a state-registered charity, I probably ate roadkill. None of this seemed too world-shaking for the people I was with, but as an "outsider" I was pretty wigged out. It took a couple of high school girls to help me come to terms with the fact that I was in all probability eating Rudolf for breakfast: "Just call it caribou."

Alaska is as surreal as it is serene, because it has this mystique surrounding it. And the odd thing is that the mystique has to do with just how down-to-earth Alaskans are. People who are pragmatic, people who are neighborly, people who are not alarmed by the appearance of elk--people like that are uncommon to the lower 48. People like that are mysterious, quirky.

We spent the whole weekend talking about superheroes, which made me feel more at home, which I suppose makes me quirky too. Quirky enough, in fact, that one of my favorite jokes depends on Alaska for its punchline (it also depends on you reading it out loud, so don't post a comment until you've heard yourself repeat it):

Q: Did Tennessee what Arkansas?
A: I dunno. Alaska.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! That's brilliant!