Amythica: Insular

Many times I have giggled with my sisters about Americans asking directions in London and pronouncing Leicester Square too literally. That was cheap, how many times have I miss-pronounced Potomac? But behind the laughter is a little something. Almost every British person I know, has a passport and has left the little island at some point. Passport ownership in America is at something like 10 - 15%, depending who you ask. What does this tell us about a comparison between Americans and British?

Now the comfortable smug thing to think is "travel broadens the mind", hence British travel more so their minds are broader. Poppycock! The British grand tour of the Victorian times has morphed into the lower-middle-class Asian tour of today. Gap-years, redundancy windfalls and anyone with time and money to kill sets off from Heathrow one day to Bangkok. Some Brits go on the Australia and mingle with an identical culture in a warmer climate. Then back to Asia. Thailand, Cambodia, Laos. Drinking cheap beer, avoiding the locals and coming back £10000 lighter and feeling they've accomplished something. These aren't just Brits, many are Australians, Germans, all G20 nationalities and yes a few Americans. But for some reason, the Brits cling to this culture of hedonism, and consider the practise places them up the chain from 85% of Americans who won't leave the country.

In my job I have the fortune to meet the most open-minded, keen and optimistic kids, neh young adults. Many have no passport, many can only boast Canada as their only foreign country. But to call them narrow-minded because they have not yet got round to getting a Henna Tattoo on Koh Phi Phi, is offensive. I am in awe of these guys and girls who walk out into the Alaskan Wilderness, camping in the middle of nowhere, securing their possessions from bears. These young adults have lived 1000 times more than Sally on her gap year strolling drunkenly with a tray of noodles down the Khao San Road. When they tell me about their adventures, my jaw drops. Especially a gentleman called Isaac who hiked the Chilkoot Trail in his precious cowboy boots.

The Americans I see are lovers of life. Optimistic, 'can-doers'. This is with business, with ideas, with relationships. Frankly I found this attitude micro-thin on the ground back in the UK. Does this abundance of optimism and excitement tire me? Of course it does, cynicism came to me at birth. Do I feed off it? Yes I do.

You ask any British person at any time to name The President of the USA. If they couldn't, they would more than a little out of touch. Ask any American who the Prime Minister of the UK is and there is a good chance that they won't be able to name David Cameron. Nor Gordon Brown before him. In fact, historically, many Americans only know Churchill, Thatcher and Blair. Does that make Americans weak on International knowledge? Not at all.

Ask many Brits to name the President or PM of Ireland. The PMs of Norway, Sweden. The President of Germany, the PM of France. These are our neighbours and we don't know who leads them. How dumb! But for some reason a twinge of defensiveness arises when Americans don't know who our PM is.

A teeny amount of offense is gained by an American not fully understanding the geography of Scotland, Wales and England. Why is it only Americans who offend us by not knowing as much about us as we do about them? Its easy to answer this, and hard to hear as truths often are. We British are much more interested in Americans than they are in us. No matter how much you remind them of their history as a former colony of the British. Incidentally they were also a colony of France, Spain and (here in Alaska) Russia. The Spanish and Mexican Wars are as important in the forming of the United States than the War of Independence, but many silly Brits don't even know this.

There are other aspects, of this one-way interest and it doesn't necessarily just include the British. America has been the consistent dominant power since at least WW1. Of course, the USSR, and China are past and present contenders for this crown, but the US has been there the longest and seems most comfortable with its role as major world power. I'm not going too far down the politics thread here, as foreign policy is something that should never define citizens. However, decisions made by Washington effects almost every human being on the planet. Therefore, there are few people on the planet who haven't an opinion on America. However, the same is not true in reverse. Americans are not fully aware, how US policies and export of cultures have effected each person or nation on the planet. As it said in The Rough Guide to the USA Guidebook. "Don't expect Americans to understand how US Foreign Policy has effected your country". And why should they? Americans work hard, pay their taxes, have government waste their taxes like the rest of us. They don't owe you an explanation as to why a McDonalds has closed down a local restaurant in Athens.

So we ask why America is so insular (and it may well be), we have to ask ourselves why we are so insular? If an American cares more about jobs in America, than the trouble with the Eurozone. Ask why you are more concerned about illegal immigrants getting council houses and the Conservatives selling off the NHS than Quebec Nationalism in Canada? Europe not getting its shit together, has taken more than enough of American time, blood and treasure. Frankly the US owes Britain and Europe nothing - but Europe has a huge debt to the US, one which we like to conveniently forget. Namely our freedom.

Amythica: Intro

I remember reading the introduction to Stephen Fry's America, the book which accompanied the series of Mr Fry visiting every state in the US. In this introduction, he hit the nail on the head as to British attitudes and opinions of Americans. The snobbishness which tells us more about us than it does about them. Unfortunately, I am an 'us'. And being British I fall guilty of relapsing into that habit which is ingrained. Sometimes encouraged by the American love of my accent, that feeling no matter what British social class I am, it automatically trumps being American. When I see myself thinking this way, I am immediately shamed.

Then again, I want to explore the myths and stereotypes of Americans and America. I want to do this maybe 85% with my own observations as an ex-pat and my personal experiences. Observations which are very open to debate.

Stereotypes are there for a reason. Myths, have some basis in truth to seem plausible, and stand some test of time. Even if the original truth gets to us as reliably as a game of Chinese Whispers. So myths are none-the-less interesting, and to again quote Mr Fry, that our view of Americans "tell us more about us than them", means that a closer look at the relationship of 'us' and 'them' valid and stimulating.

So, in dealing with stereotypes, and therefore generalizations, no doubt any reader will arrive at many examples which contradict me. Sure, I can come up with a few myself, and this is what I will no doubt do as I carry on. When I talk about Fat Americans, please shout back "what about Adele?". Or even, how much do you weigh Chris? When I talk about the glory of British music, please shout ... well there are loads of counters to that.

The subjects I am covering are:

Insular

Freedom

Fat

Music

Language

Healthcare

Home

I'm writing this in a strange state, a glow of optimism with a wretched hangover as a backdrop.

Last night we had our work party, and with a staff headcount of 11, a turn up of 9 people was a success.

We started the night at the US Coastguards bar, sat on tall tables drinking wine and ale, with fingers sticky from the cheese, chilli fries. It was the works Christmas do.

Earlier in the day I cracked a joke on Facebook, accompanied by a picture of our Christmas meal at The Broiler on Nugget Mall. I compared that Christmas party with that enjoyed by my ex-colleagues in Manchester, who enjoyed an extravaganza with footballers and Leona Lewis. My jealousy was artificial and pure pantomime in the pathetic search for Facebook 'likes'. In reality I have just finished the last of the best work christmas' in my office working life. Something tells me I am now with my people. A rag-tag group of lovable individuals which form a kind of loose gang as popularised in Richard Curtis films like Four Weddings and Notting Hill. So much in common, yet figuring out a single denominator is completely impossible.

A colleagues husband turned to me and asked "where do you call home?". This is such a hard question for me to answer. I really don't know. The easy answer I gave to this, and "where in England are you from?" is; "The West Country" or "West England". But defining me geographically is impossible, even if I wish it weren't.

I like to think as the city where I was born, and educated me, Bristol is my home town. But I don't know it anymore. Cornwall; where I grew up as a child but I don't identify with it. I should though. Cornwall is a beautiful county, with the rolling hills, quaint villages and dramatic coastline. A culturally rich part of the UK with its own language. Its waiting for me to claim it as my culture. But I can't, I reject it. I'm even in almost denial of it, with an occasional desire to wipe it from the pages of my history. I understand why, I just wanted to get out of the place, which offered so much to everyone but me. Maybe I didn't reject Cornwall, Cornwall rejected me. And the secret of my nomadic soul, is not so much as that of an explorer, more an outcast.

London, now I love to say how I was there, and why not? I overplay how the city influenced me. But really I have to report, probably only 2 out of the 6 years there were bathed in contentment, the first year and the last year.

Am I at home now? How the fuck can I answer that? Its been far too soon. In reality I'm still travelling in my mind. For despite the job, the cell phone, the health insurance, I'm still travelling and running from something. It lives in my mind most Fridays when I grab my ruck-sack early in the morning, and sleep in a sleeping bag on a top of a ship heading through the inside passage. I still feel like a traveller those days. Sometime soon it will register, this is home now. I fear my response to the realization.

Life is a ship at the moment, with the UK as a shoreline that is getting fainter on the horizon. I'm forgetting what living there is. I forget what a five pound note looks like. I go onto the BBC News website out of habit, but being on a US server it defaults to the US news. I less frequently check the UK news. But like all ships, to continue the analogy, its still on the water, and not into port yet.

Where is home if not geographically? I'm not the person who will ever know. If that place turns up which throws an economical and spiritual paradise (maybe like I have found presently), I will spend too much time trying to work out the catch, cynic that I am. Some souls live in torment of their place in the world spiritually more than others. I'm clearly one of those people.

I gave up on happiness over ten years ago, and settled for the search for contentment instead, as recommended by The Dalai Lama. Contentment seems more stable, more conducive to maintenance. Happiness seems like a rush. There is no such thing as a 'happy ever after', yet we all search for it. In that respect the downside for me is, I will always view happiness with some suspicion. I will see it for the temporary dopamine release that it is. No better than a Prodigy gig in 1997, dancing with passion and warmth. But accepting of the fact that this emotional elation will be offset by tears the next day. You never hear of people taking drugs or drinking or gambling to feel content. They do it because it makes them feel happy.

My happiness tangent, wasn't really a tangent. My problem is I relate home with happiness, when really, I need to relate home with contentment.

So my psychological education continues.

Independence Day

I often forget about October 27th, until it is upon me. It's not a happy day in the least. It's a day of tragedy. Yet of tragedy, oftentimes something is born that is good. Tragedies can end chapters. This will force a new chapter. New chapters are always seen as positive, therapeutic, not always pleasant. 

October 27, is my reset day, my year zero, my Independence Day. From that point, some years ago, my life became set on a differing trajectory. It was a day where the disaster of another freed me to pursue a life free from fear, free from squalor. Free to follow a path of my choosing in the general direction of happiness. 

You are waiting for me to be less vague, and give details of the tragedy. Well I won't. Just the same as no one else observes October 27 as my Independence Day. I observe it solemnly myself. I use it as another marker on life's journey as I enter the second half of it. I reset the mileage.

So with you not knowing what I am necessarily on about, and me staring out the window at those mountains interrupting the turquoise still waters of Lynn Canal. I grab my $1.50 coffee, I toast myself not in celebration - but in recognition that I am alive and well and free in the pursuit of happiness.

Happy sailing!

Winter is a-coming!

 

The first thing anyone thinks about when they think about Alaska is the cold. Second to that, possibly very short days in Winter to compensate the long summer days. Now the cold view of Alaska is deserved, even if the great summers are a little less known.

Since arriving I have braced myself for the winter. I have asked advice from everyone about what to expect and how to plan and importantly what to wear.

Back in the UK, my winter prep would be minimal. I'd use a winter coat which is 3 years old of little use or possibly a water proof coat with changing layers underneath. Winter foot ware was very low on my radar. Why should it be? At worse in Britain it will snow for 2 weeks of the year. If it is really bad - work would accept a snow day off. So I always considered it best to wait until the January Sales to buy winter gear. When the January Sales were upon me - what small tolerance I have for wandering round busy consumer districts has been stripped by Christmas shopping a week earlier. In any case - spring will be here soon and paying £70 for a North Face jacket seemed redundant. 

Now I'm guessing with Alaska - even my sissy southeastern part of Alaska - having snow from November through Feb the following year, Alaska has found a way to work around snow with no need to alert the American version of COBRA - if they even have one. It also is something I have to work through. My winter clothing is no longer a matter of comfort over personal economics. It is now about survival. So last Saturday I spent the most I've ever spent on a coat; $130 (£87). A heavy duty thing which when I tried on in the store - immediately drops of sweat poured over my top lip. It's a heavy canvass, which I'm told is also waterproof - though I'm not convinced about that.

Everything changes over winter. The cruise ships have all left Juneau, and the businesses supported by the cruise ships - most of downtown Juneau, feel this is a good time to shut down also. Who can blame them? This includes a Filipino burger stall called Manila Bay, near the Cruise Ship dock. The owner, I have met. In winter she goes down to San Francisco to look after her other business down there. Definitely who can blame her? 

My base town of Haines, has turned into almost a ghost town. The tourist places which dot 2nd Avenue are redundant. The restaurants are closed - bar a few cosy soft lit havens. Winter is upon us all.

Those who saw Haines in the summer and said they would live there, found a way to before experiencing a winter, are now considering moving on. And it's the movers on who are making me proud of myself - or at least they will make me proud of myself. Because in four months from now, I will puff forward my chest and say I made it through an Alaskan winter. Of course my colleagues in Anchorage would scoff that this could be a source of pride. But for me, it will be something. 

Lets be honest. I am living in two heated houses. Neither are isolated. My commute to work will be changing from the bike to the bus. The bus stop being a 5 minute walk from the house. On Fridays the taxi will pick me up and take me to the ferry - which I'm told chugs up the Lynn Canal to Haines whatever the weather - even if sometimes the ferry gets tossed around like a rag doll (I can occasionally suffer sea sickness). 

However, I see the mountains behind my home in Juneau dusted with snow, and I can see the snow approaching. On my way home from work last week, I saw a rare break in the cloudy Juneau sky, and like a badly photoshopped picture there was this snowier than usual mountain, the mountain overhanging Mendenhall Glacier. It looked unreal. Like those old epic movies where the landscape was obviously just an impressive painting. But it was real, it was winter on its way. What was happening on that mountain, an flurry of wind and snow, will soon be down in the valley where I live.

Winter won't be spent as I imagined it back in the UK; gathering wood for a fire. Feeding the fire all night or waking to Artic temperatures. But I know it will be a new experience and will bring a few stories to tell. I am eagerly awaiting you winter, and I want you to give it your best shot. 

Now all I need is a pair of Tuffs!

 

Life goes on....

I have passed 2 months in the USA and most notable is; I feel I really belong as I have a physical social security card and an actual green card. Getting a green card is often a term used to describe the process of becoming a permanent resident. However, eventually after entering the USA you get the actual green card - and it is actually green in colour.

I remember my first few months of arriving in Bristol in 1995, then London in 2003. I spent so much time looking around and not believing I was really here. And I guess the same is true here. Interesting too, is I have found the adjustment a little easier than adjusting to life in London. Maybe I am older, and not so wide eyed about the world. I realize that wherever I am in the world, I have to get up, put on my trousers and go to work. And that work will probably be an office. In that respect, the USA has been easy.

I may as well list things I miss. Clover Butter Spread is one. There is nothing I've found similar. I live as a single person for 4/7 days of the week and everything seems in large portions. So I either eat too much or nothing. But these are minor things. What do I prefer?

Above all I like, what I've always liked about Americans and America. The enthusiasm and optimism. This is over all 50 states, but more profound in Alaska. I feel like I am sitting on the shoulders of giants when I think of those who came here 100 years ago. What they did to make Alaskan Territory into the State of Alaska. Living alongside bears. Surviving bitter winters. It's a place where people come not to make it, but to survive. A snowy California I've heard some say. People come from all over the USA to Alaska to discover something new. In California they will probably return, realizing the house on the hill, or beside the beach will never be theirs. In Alaska, they will make it past a winter, feel proud to have done so and stay on forever. Or they find they can never afford to leave. 

This leads me onto another type that stays in Alaska. Those that feel trapped. The vibrant city of Seattle looks so cruelly close. It's an hour or two by plane from Juneau. Yet a most flights cost $500 one way. The ferry to nearby Bellingham is $350, and another $300 if you want a cabin for the 3 day trip. In so many ways, once you are in Alaska you are stuck here. But the isolation brings rewards also. The crap of Washington seems further away. It seems London is more tied to decisions in Washington, than Juneau is. The irony of Alaska is supreme. An independent state, with more in common with Canada than the lower 48. Yet completely dependent on federal handouts. A beautiful snowy or green paradise, mostly untouched by man, but at most risk from jobs effected by green legislation with so much of the state reliant on the energy industry for jobs. 

Mostly I get Alaskans, and they get me it seems. That is because most Alaskans, are not Alaskans by birth. They are those like me who at one point stepped off a plane or ferry, intimidated and excited all at once. Knowing that pride should be left for another year, as for now you need all the help and advice you can get.

This is more profound where I work, with young people from all over the USA. One of our corps members arrived today. No car, just like me. No place, just like me a month ago in Juneau. He is from Mississippi, but he may as well be from Romania. This is all new and exciting for him. 

Life is easier in the USA. It's a service industry country and wherever there is someone available to help, they almost always do it to the best of their ability. With one eye on customer service. I enjoy my day to day routine in Juneau. I rise early, and not really because I have to, I get up with ease at 6:30am. Often waking an hour before me alarm, restless and willing to start the day. I look outside my window and survey the day. I cycle the 2 miles to work, so rain (and Juneau rains a lot) has a bearing on what I will wear. A rainy day brings out the cycling lycra. Yes I'm often a MAMIL. The cycling is my exercise so I say, but really it's so flat, my journey, I don't change gear all week. I arrive about 7:15am at the office and grind the coffee beans for a fresh cup of coffee. I do my best work from then to 11am, my most productive part of the day. 

I work 40 hours over 4 days, and return to Haines by ferry often on Friday mornings. This journey I love. The taxi arrives early, to take me to the ferry terminal. I board and wait until 7am for a ferry breakfast - usually of eggs with biscuits and gravy. Several refills of coffee later, I climb up to the solarium, climb inside my sleeping back. There I read for a bit struggling to keep my arms warm from the crisp air. Then often I drift off to sleep with an hour on the water before I arrive in Haines. Again each week doing this, I find it hard to believe I'm really here.

Sometimes I feel guilty of my present blissful life, and feel so undeserving of happiness - I've been less than a good person. Then I cast my mind back to a dark evening in early 2007. When a bitter voice, stinking of cheap wine, told me I better not sleep, or my pretty throat would get cut. I lay awake, and just prayed to anything that I just get through to morning. I also thought at that point that life has got as low for me as it will ever get. And I measure much since from that point. Then I have other points of measurement too. When I was a young boy - 14 or so, growing up in the drabness of small town Cornwall. Strangled by close-mindedness, and mental dictatorship. At points in my life, I often wanted to go back to that boy and show him, this is what happens. Sometime the ghost from Chris-mas (see what I did there) future flies back from his uni days in Bristol. Passing the course his mother said he was too thick to pass. Show him having fun living in a city for the first time. Showing 14 year old Chris his desk in Canary Wharf tower, his travels around the world. And of course I would show him the last part of his life, in America. Then I'd tell him to take heart, that all those around you, the ones who see you as simple, unworthy. Well you will see them on Facebook (ofcourse this is 1985 so explaining FB may take a while) and they will be still cleaning windows and having nothing but procreation to be proud of. Then again - 14 year old Chris pretty much knew life was going to be eventful anyway. The restless always know this.

Something my restless soul knows is, I identify with Alaskans. And as I identify more with Alaskans, my memories of Britain fade. Yes, after just two months. I always thought I'd keep an interest in Britain, and have British pride. Well I guess I do, a Union Jack flies proudly in my office. But apart from that, I have no idea what is happening on my island? I don't think I will ever voluntarily go back to the UK. Then again, decisions to move are seldom made when life is good. Maybe something will happen that soils paradise. Who knows, good or bad, up or down, life goes on!

A month and a week later

When I arrived in New York over a month ago, I had ideas and dreams but without knowing the future, you can never precisely know where you will end up. So here I am a month and a week later in Juneau, capital of Alaska and a 4 hour ferry ride from my wife and home in Haines.

It wasn't easy adjusting to the USA, not really. I didn't expect it to be, but most disconcerting was seeing how limited work was. Sarah was working 50 hour weeks and it wasn't fair to be choosy, so I was looking at jobs doing anything. Cleaning buses, bar work, gas station attendant. But no joy. Each day I felt incredibly guilty that Sarah would get up at 6am, and I would have to sit through boredom. To fill the day. Luckily I had a dog and a cat to keep me company. 

Some days, I would get the car and I would take Horton on the local trails. Other days, I wouldn't have the car and Horton and I would go up the trail behind the house. I tried to get some structure. 8am make the bed. 8:30am have breakfast then do the dishes. 9am, allocate an hour to job hunting. And of course plenty of Internet and tea breaks. 

It wasn't all boredom. One Saturday we helped out at the state fair. Sarah and I volunteered at the Haines Animal Rescue Kennel (HARK) stall. Sarah sold tickets for a duck game and I sold raffle tickets at $20 a pop, for a $1500 holiday. I thought 20 bucks would be a tall order, but I was surprised to see how many I sold. My sales were helped by nationality when I heard a British accent and the camera crew for Discovery Channel were at the fair. I got a hug and raffle sale. We saw a few bands, ate cheesecake on a stick, and had a couple of drinks in The Klondike Bar. The weather was perfect, a perfect day. 

A couple of occasions I helped Sarah. Well I didn't help, I guested on her radio show. Her idea was to have banter about music. I wasn't sure about this. If there is one thing we disagree over is music, a lot. I foresaw a domestic in the radio. In all, it went very smoothly. 

I love Haines. I like all the people I've met thus far (bar only one). But I needed work and one day I got a bite. However it was a job in Juneau. At first I inquired about working remotely, but it seemed that wasn't possible. But the job looked exactly the thing I wanted not just in America but anywhere. For ages I lamented that my only contribution to society by way of occupation is by paying tax. After almost a decade in useless advertising and TV, I now had the chance to work for a company which helps teenagers get on the right track. And not a bad salary to do it either. I was interviewed twice over the phone. On Friday August 9th, I received a call. "Hello Chris, I'd like to offer you your first job in America, when can you come in?". "Next Tuesday?" I replied. "Great, see you then". I booked a hostel and ferry for Juneau and paced the room with excitement for a while. 

The weekend went too fast. I booked on the 7pm ferry to Juneau, getting me in at 11:45pm. Sarah dropped me off. With my rucksack and man-bag I boarded the boat, and told myself how confident I should be. I watched the night fall in, and the mountains each side of Chanel become golden as the last of the sun splashed the snowy peaks. I went to the bar and had myself one or two Alaskan Summer Ales. Golden bubbles dancing in a frosted glass, I became self conscious how fast it went down. But it felt good. I returned to my seat now darkness had descended, and fell asleep. I awoke 30 minutes outside of Juneau. 

Auke Ferry terminal is at least 15 miles outside of downtown Juneau where I was staying. And I wondered how I would get into town. There must be taxis waiting. Actually there aren't, but luckily I found a couple of Aussies who offered to share a cab with me. The total was $36 for the ride, and with a tip we paid $40 between us. The Aussies were staying at the Alaskan Hotel on Franklin Street, and as they were dropped off I first saw Juneau night life. The ferries of tourists had left, those who worked for a living, paid their bar tab over an hour ago. Only left were the drunks. The place reminded me of the old west. Compact and lawless. I was staying up the road at the hostel. Little did I know, they locked up after 11pm. If you turned up after then, tough luck basically. I hammered on the door without luck. After a while a guest talked to me through the door and said she can't let me in. Disgruntled and tired I made my way back down the hill to the Alaskan Hotel and got a half decent room for $70. It was at least 1:30am before my head hit the pillow properly and I fell asleep. I was up again at 6am. Tuesday was a big day.

My new boss offered to pick me up from the hostel, so I walked up and waited there for her. Storing my bag in the hostel. Before work she drove me around Juneau giving me the tour.  So nice of her and  I struggled to take it all in. What I did notice thought, were coffee shops, Walmarts, Fred Meyers and freeways. Haines is lovely, but for some reason I felt I'd really now arrived in America. 

My office is lovely, and my own office I will add, which is quite new to me after years in open-plan big buildings. Straight away I knew I'd be ok. All my co-workers are great. I seriously like each one I've met. I know I'm a bother for the company in not having a place sorted or a vehicle, but it's like they wanted to help so much. And this is normal. Most of those at my organization came from somewhere else and came off the ferry in Alaska confused, bewildered and needing all the help and advice they could get.

My first week was brilliant in Juneau outside of work. At the hostel I met Iain from Ohio, Basil from Harvard, Emilie and Sarah from England and for 3 days on the trot we made The Alaskan Hotel Bar our haunt. On the last Friday, we extended our bar crawl one place to The Red Dog Saloon. A great place on the corner of Franklin and Marine, with saloon doors and sawdust on the floor. With the bar lady dressed as a Wild West whore, it is obviously touristy, but with the tourists gone and a bar full of stuffed hunted animals, it's a must. Of my three nights at the Alaskan Bar, listening to live bands, I thought to myself in my beer buzzed haze, Juneau is a place I could love. And even though settling in is unsettling, I think settling couldn't be much easier, being fresh off the boat, no social security card, no car and only Craigslist for a chance of a home. 

Throughout the week, finding a place to stay was a worry. Particularly as the hostel only allowed 5 nights in any 3 month period. And it's the only hostel in Juneau. I emailed as best I could. I don't have a cell so email was all I had. Many replies that the places had been filled had come through. I was also in competition with another hosteller to find a place, although I was a lot less fussy. However, come Friday I found a place 2 miles from work. A room in a house.  I moved in on Tuesday August 20th. The plus side is, that the place is near work and some stores so its functional without a car. The downside is, I wanted a downtown place, as I wanted The Alaskan to be my local. That said, it's probably for the best. 

With the mountains surrounding me in a spaced middle-class part of Juneau. A glacier looming in the near distance as I walk home from work, life is pretty good. I need my bike, and I'm pushing for that this weekend. The snow is coming soon and I'm worried there isn't much cycling left. 

So my routine is work all week, and an early ferry on Friday or Saturday back to Haines to see Sarah and Horton (and Vlad the annoying cat). Life is pretty good. America is pretty good.