So, what did I learn from this year's trip?
For one, some of the gloss was taken off the Alaska experience, and that was welcome. I've always known that no matter where you live, you face the same headaches but just with different surroundings. This year, I was reminded that real-world chores, like things screwing up at work, will happen no matter how idyllic the place you choose to live. More than this, though, I really got to appreciate that with great beauty comes the possibility of peril: earthquakes, for instance (and hoping the little jolt you feel isn't a prelude to the next Good Friday quake). And the respect and care with which you must navigate bear and moose territory. Maybe we would have gotten away with it had we not seen the sow and her cub the other Sunday. Maybe we wouldn't, and I'd be typing this on a golden computer right now, hoping the Lord had been kind enough to reassemble my head during my transit to the afterlife. None of this diminishes my love for Alaska -- indeed, it makes me more appreciative of the place -- but it has reminded me that there are perils no matter where you go, be it something as small as an unexpected office chore or as large as a wild bear or as unpredictable as a seismic shift.
Will I ever move there? It's highly unlikely, for a multitude of reasons. These range from the practical (I'd walk away from a job I really enjoy and a place that, despite its drawbacks, is home to me; that doesn't even begin to consider the family implications and other issues that would rapidly turn the whole damned thing into a nightmare) to the personal (I like being near my family, and I would also have to learn to adapt to types of weather I seldom see here being a fact of life for several months) to the romantic (would I really want to move all the way to Alaska just to do the same kind of work I do here? It seems kind of pointless). The saying "don't go looking for hamburger when you got steak at home" comes to mind. That's not to say that I wouldn't move there if everything here turned to absolute crap -- I've always looked at Alaska as the place where I plan to start over in the event I lose everything here -- but that's not likely to happen.
On the other hand, even if living there is not in my cards, there's nothing to prevent me from going there as often as time and money and circumstances allow. When I booked my trip back a few months ago, I was surprised by how inexpensive a good itinerary could be. Spitballing a few possible dates for later in the year, I found that it's still affordable for me. It's not cheap, but it's not outrageous. I'm finding myself saying "I can do that!" I'm already discussing the very real possibility of a couple more days up there before the year is out. I'm not moving there, but I can go there enough to make it a part of my life and get to know it as best I can.
In the meantime, I've also discovered it's inexpensive to go other places I enjoy. Next week I'll be headed back to Seattle to make up for the layover I denied myself. It'll be a quick trip, only a couple days, but I'll be doing it to unwind a bit before the madness of a new academic year begins. There are bookstores, shops and museums I want to visit and enjoy. I want to bring home bags of pasta from Pike Place Market and rare books from the little bookstores I've discovered. I want to enjoy hours wandering the exhibits at the Museum of Flight and spend a little more time in the airpark with my beloved Queenie. And maybe I'll get a chance to do it all again before the year's out. I'm already talking about meeting up with a friend there in October, when I'll have a couple days off.
More than all this, it's opened up a whole new string of worlds to me. Up until now, I haven't appreciated what a fantastic set of circumstances I have. I've spent so long toiling away to get what I have now that I haven't been able to see what should be obvious. I have a very good job, and while it doesn't pay a huge amount, one of its benefits is that I get a lot of time off. And I haven't appreciated what that time could let me do. I've taken little bites from it, but I haven't used it the way I could.
As I've talked about before, I grew up in a family that didn't travel much. If it wasn't in one of the adjoining states, we didn't go. And if we couldn't drive there, we didn't go. My family shared the same mindset as most folks around us in our little town: if we didn't have any legitimate business there, we didn't go. When I was in graduate school, I tried to bust out of it, and to some extent I did. I took some great adventures. But once I got to working for a living and settled down, I put it aside.
Now, though, I want to get back to it. I want to travel more. I want to be able to say "I want to spend a long weekend in Seattle" or "I wanna go up to Boston and see the JFK Library" or "I want to go up to Alaska and see the Northern Lights" and follow through on it instead of just saying "well, someday I will." Because when I've done it in the past, it's never disappointed. As I told my friend, I can't think of many things I've bought that have given me a better return on my investment than a few hundred dollars on a plane ticket to somewhere I want to go.
I have a great life here. But there's no reason I can't add a little adventure to it. This trip showed me how I could do that. That's probably why, this year, Alaska didn't leave me sad. It left me saying, "Wow. When do I get to do this again? And where else can I go while I'm at it?"
For one, some of the gloss was taken off the Alaska experience, and that was welcome. I've always known that no matter where you live, you face the same headaches but just with different surroundings. This year, I was reminded that real-world chores, like things screwing up at work, will happen no matter how idyllic the place you choose to live. More than this, though, I really got to appreciate that with great beauty comes the possibility of peril: earthquakes, for instance (and hoping the little jolt you feel isn't a prelude to the next Good Friday quake). And the respect and care with which you must navigate bear and moose territory. Maybe we would have gotten away with it had we not seen the sow and her cub the other Sunday. Maybe we wouldn't, and I'd be typing this on a golden computer right now, hoping the Lord had been kind enough to reassemble my head during my transit to the afterlife. None of this diminishes my love for Alaska -- indeed, it makes me more appreciative of the place -- but it has reminded me that there are perils no matter where you go, be it something as small as an unexpected office chore or as large as a wild bear or as unpredictable as a seismic shift.
Will I ever move there? It's highly unlikely, for a multitude of reasons. These range from the practical (I'd walk away from a job I really enjoy and a place that, despite its drawbacks, is home to me; that doesn't even begin to consider the family implications and other issues that would rapidly turn the whole damned thing into a nightmare) to the personal (I like being near my family, and I would also have to learn to adapt to types of weather I seldom see here being a fact of life for several months) to the romantic (would I really want to move all the way to Alaska just to do the same kind of work I do here? It seems kind of pointless). The saying "don't go looking for hamburger when you got steak at home" comes to mind. That's not to say that I wouldn't move there if everything here turned to absolute crap -- I've always looked at Alaska as the place where I plan to start over in the event I lose everything here -- but that's not likely to happen.
On the other hand, even if living there is not in my cards, there's nothing to prevent me from going there as often as time and money and circumstances allow. When I booked my trip back a few months ago, I was surprised by how inexpensive a good itinerary could be. Spitballing a few possible dates for later in the year, I found that it's still affordable for me. It's not cheap, but it's not outrageous. I'm finding myself saying "I can do that!" I'm already discussing the very real possibility of a couple more days up there before the year is out. I'm not moving there, but I can go there enough to make it a part of my life and get to know it as best I can.
In the meantime, I've also discovered it's inexpensive to go other places I enjoy. Next week I'll be headed back to Seattle to make up for the layover I denied myself. It'll be a quick trip, only a couple days, but I'll be doing it to unwind a bit before the madness of a new academic year begins. There are bookstores, shops and museums I want to visit and enjoy. I want to bring home bags of pasta from Pike Place Market and rare books from the little bookstores I've discovered. I want to enjoy hours wandering the exhibits at the Museum of Flight and spend a little more time in the airpark with my beloved Queenie. And maybe I'll get a chance to do it all again before the year's out. I'm already talking about meeting up with a friend there in October, when I'll have a couple days off.
More than all this, it's opened up a whole new string of worlds to me. Up until now, I haven't appreciated what a fantastic set of circumstances I have. I've spent so long toiling away to get what I have now that I haven't been able to see what should be obvious. I have a very good job, and while it doesn't pay a huge amount, one of its benefits is that I get a lot of time off. And I haven't appreciated what that time could let me do. I've taken little bites from it, but I haven't used it the way I could.
As I've talked about before, I grew up in a family that didn't travel much. If it wasn't in one of the adjoining states, we didn't go. And if we couldn't drive there, we didn't go. My family shared the same mindset as most folks around us in our little town: if we didn't have any legitimate business there, we didn't go. When I was in graduate school, I tried to bust out of it, and to some extent I did. I took some great adventures. But once I got to working for a living and settled down, I put it aside.
Now, though, I want to get back to it. I want to travel more. I want to be able to say "I want to spend a long weekend in Seattle" or "I wanna go up to Boston and see the JFK Library" or "I want to go up to Alaska and see the Northern Lights" and follow through on it instead of just saying "well, someday I will." Because when I've done it in the past, it's never disappointed. As I told my friend, I can't think of many things I've bought that have given me a better return on my investment than a few hundred dollars on a plane ticket to somewhere I want to go.
I have a great life here. But there's no reason I can't add a little adventure to it. This trip showed me how I could do that. That's probably why, this year, Alaska didn't leave me sad. It left me saying, "Wow. When do I get to do this again? And where else can I go while I'm at it?"
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