30.09.2018. Totally Wasted

The time is ripe for my first proper rant. We can call it a comparison for political correctness and whatnot, but it is going to be a rant. Specifically, my culture shock regarding the wasteful lifestyle they seem to nonchalantly live here.

1. Plastic bags.
In Latvia, supermarkets do have plastic bags, sure. They are mostly located under the register for one to take, or one can ask the cashier if one needs a bag. Here, they have an open bag ready for the cashier to bag away - there is no question whether you need it, the cashier just starts putting the stuff in the bags. I have to LOUDLY indicate that I have my own bag and I can bag the stuff myself (that's another bizarre thing: it is either the cashier who bags, or they have a separate bagger. As if bagging was such a major inconvenience.) Then, they also ask 'Would you like it double-bagged?' If only mankind could invent a material that doesn't rip easily to prevent producing as much plastic... (end of sarcasm). And don't think they reuse the plastic bags. I've seen people unload their groceries and throw the bags in the garbage. Yes, not even as a garbage bag, but IN the garbage.

Some grocery shopping.

2. Plastic containers and cutlery
The university cafeteria. Full of foam containers. They do ask whether you'll be eating here or is it to-go. No, they won't put the food on a plate if it's dine-in. The only difference is that the plastic container will have foil inside if it's to-go. Absolutely mind-boggling. Genius idea: PLATE. And proper cutlery. I'll never understand this. Ever.

3. Food
Latvians do have a history of starvation and not wasting any food, even a bit excessively. Mold on top of the jam jar? Take a spoonful out, eat the rest. And suchlike. Here, I've seen half a pizza or a full box of popcorn thrown in trash. Why? Because it got cold. Let that sink in.
Also, a lot of food expires and gets wasted because of the huge packaging. I buy the small yogurt tubs. Which are over a kilo. I haven't bought a single loaf of bread because the smallest one is around 600 g. In Latvia, the biggest one would be 500 g... wonder where it's going wrong?

The size of a small yogurt tub and loaf of bread, onion for scale

4. Recycling habits
We do have recycling containers on-campus. However, the one we have in the dumpster is plastic + paper together. Now everyone knows that in order to be recycled, these have to be separated. So, we're making the job at recycling factories more difficult because we can't be bothered to add an extra container? Where is the logic in that?

5. Driving

Of course, I appreciate a ride to the grocery store. It is around 8 km away and such. But it seems that the Americans do drive everywhere. I'm talking a drive down from housing to campus (it's a 10 minute walk max). Plus, most people have huge cars or trucks that devour gas. 

We prefer walking.

6. Lights
A lot of lights are left on all night. The excuse I hear? 'Oh, but we're not paying for it here'. Sad to see people unable to see further than the tip of their nose.


Rant over. Blood has been boiled.

23.09.2018. 'What do you even DO there?'

'Do you like it in Alaska?'
'Would move any day.'
'Whaaaaaat? But it has bears, and it's cold, it's rainy, and it's the middle of nowhere! What is there even to DO?'

I'll tell you what there is to do. Everything on this list was done within 24 hours.

1. Compete in shot put using glacier-kissed rocks.

2. Observe porcupines/deer/bears/eagles/ravens/moose/whales/sea lions/other critters.

3. Play Cards Against Humanity around a bonfire.

4. Do your morning sun salutations outside a cabin in the forest.

5. Leap through water jets from a glacial waterfall.

6. Canoe on crystal clear, still water.

7. Talk to people. Strangers yesterday, friends today.

8. Walk. Then, walk some more.

9. Eat freeze-dried meals (never ever buy freeze-dried mountain chili. Just..don't.)

10. Be small. Smaller than nature, smaller than your group, and, most importantly, yourself. Coexist. Enjoy the silence.

If you'd trade any of this for caressing your touchscreen or the keys of your laptop......
don't go to Alaska.

16.09.2018. Rainis vs. Whales: LU vs UAS

It's been a good three weeks of my studies at UAS. Enough to draw similarities and differences, comparison and contrast between the two. Note: This post is not a rant, not meant to praise or crush any university. Truth and nothing but - based on empirical data.

1. Books
Ok, straight up - LU is a winner. If a book is required for the course, it is found at the library. Period. We are never expected to buy textbooks. Also, couldn't say we use many textbooks per se - the material is mostly already chewed up by the professors, we only have to digest it. Is that a win or a loss - I don't know.
Here at UAS, yes, we are expected to buy textbooks. Yes, I had some 13-15 to buy. Yes, some of them cost 130 bucks. Yes, I pirated most (what else is a broke student supposed to do???) I rented one from Amazon and bought two used - spent around 30 bucks on books. Still more than I would have spent at LU. Why all this wastefulness? Why not supply books at the library - especially since the university doesn't have too many students?

Yes, it is our library and yes, I stole the picture from the website.

2. Homework
Tough subject. At LU, we technically are given homework. Usually consists of some sort of a reading, a few pages, and, occasionally, an assignment to go with it. Just a reading? Never gets done, apart from the special few in the group. An assignment? Mostly gets done, but in haste, last minute, after last minute. Haven't seen many people actually studying for classes.
At UAS, we get a lot of reading. Like, a lot. I do have 2 writing classes and an advanced literature class, which might be at fault, but my roommates also read a lot, so it is a thing. Having to read a 500 page book until next class is no big deal. Have to. Also, writing. In Creative Writing, I have to submit 2 complete works (poem/short story) a week. In Memoir Writing, one complete scene and one writing exercise a week, plus a bigger portfolio. And that excludes literature and Tlingit classes. Yes, there is a lot of work. I like the fact that the university keeps me busy.

3. Professors
There are professors I love at UAS, there are professors I love at LU. The big difference here is the level of formality when communicating. At UAS we address professors by first name - doesn't happen much at LU. Formal e-mails, starting with Dear Prof. something, are also not that important. Small talk with a professor, just dropping by to say hi - completely normal. Interesting. I like it. Makes one feel human.

4. Class discussion
Hard to say. Here, people speak up much more. In Latvia, it is a cultural norm not to speak. But there is not much meaning in the discussion that arises here, whereas in Latvia, we usually reach some sort of a conclusion or at least a point. Here it sometimes just feels like having fun and a chit chat amongst ourselves - sometimes, it does lead to a point, and it's like finding a goldmine. But Latvians could use some encouragement to speak - otherwise, the classroom feels heavy and oppressed, and there is an unhealthy power relationship between the professor and the students. Not always. But it happens.

5. Cafeteria
As stated previously, American food is a separate rant. *triggered*

6. Gym
In LU, we have the opportunity to participate in team sports and group fitness classes. Which is not bad. Here, we have access to a fully equipped gym (all the machines and stuff), some group classes (weight/yoga/soon Zumba in my lead (yasss!)), a suspended running track, a hall, a studio, and a climbing wall, or, rather, walls. A whole room. Oh, and rental of camping equipment, bicycles, tents, kayaks, you name it.  I guess we have a winner.

09.09.2018. A Walking Song

'Come on. Why be cocky against a mountain? Why pretend you're bigger than it?' I frown, looking at the bunch who are trying to climb a gravel wall totally off-trail, causing smaller and bigger avalanches of stone rumbling down.
'That could kill someone.' Two guys beside me nod in agreement.
The thirteen of us have been hiking for some three hours and reached the Mendenhall Glacier,

climbed on it, understood why everyone's been warning us against stepping on it, and are now trying to continue the trail which has just become a bit more vertical and slippery than necessary.

We want to make it up Mount McGinnis; as we hear, this bit was about a tenth of what this hike is going to be.
'We'll have to split up. There's no way some of these people will make it up there alive.'
We agree. Plus, we've already lost a few somewhere out by the glacier. We debate and decide that six of us are going up. Four guys, two girls. Finland, Germany, Long Island, Colorado, Lithuania and Latvia are about to pin their flags up the longest and hardest no-equipment-needed trail in Juneau. We've been warned not to choose this as one of our first hikes. It's our second.
With easy minds and light feet we take off. Well, almost. My army boots weigh 1,5 kg each. Extra leg workout, I guess?
'Man, this is starting to look like Lord of the Rings.'

 Those who can relate, laugh in agreement. Humming Into The West, we approach what looks to be a cliff. Or a wall of stone. Slippery streams of water and mud running down it.

'Oh well, seems that this is the difficult part'.
How innocent. Little did we know that the whole trail, the whole 20+ km of it, is going to be 'the difficult part'. We crawl up the rocks and stride onwards.
A couple of hours pass. It's well into midday, and we are confident we'll reach the top in an hour or so. It's been rather tiring, but nothing horrible.
'Hi, how are ya?' It's a fellow hiker, or, rather, a couple. The guy is barefoot. How he made it up here on the slippery rocks is a bit beyond comprehension.
'Ya guys here on exchange?'
'How can you tell?'
'Uh... a group a'student's, college age, hikin' Mt McGinnis?'
We laugh.
'Well ya ain't halfway up there yet.'
Oh..there goes the 'it's probably an hour more'.
Our feet are getting a little heavier. At least mine are. Certain Long Island and Colorado people are proving to be mountain goats. The boots formed blisters on me when I first wore them, and they haven't healed properly. It bothers me a lot, and I'm slowing down, feeling guilty for dragging my pack. We shuffle on. Rocks, mud, springs, moss, swamp, gravel, rocks, repeat.

'Guys, I'm worried we'll have to make it down when it's dark already.'
'Ehhh, let's maybe... not go to the top, but just above the treeline?'
'I've heard the escape helicopter in Juneau is free.'
The breathtaking views are not what's taking our breath away anymore. It's exhaustion. But we'll go on.
Two girls and a dog are making their way down - and we know them, apparently.
'Guys, don't do this. Don't go up. That is suicide.'
Encouraged, we go up.
Then, I face what would be my personal suicide. Or homicide by the mountain.
I'd had my thigh taped up three weeks earlier for a torn tendon. Two days ago, I removed the tape.
slip
fall
ow
There we go. I've pulled it, or, even better, torn it again. I bite my lip and go on. I wanna make it to the top, wherever we decide to place the top.
We make it above the treeline. We want to make it to that next hill. Then, up on that next peak. And that one next peak is too much for my tendon. I collapse then and there, panting in pain and even more so in frustration. The top is reachable, it's so close, yet... I can't. I've already pushed it for an hour, and I can't.
4 people go on forward. I stay on this peak along with one of the friends. (Thank you. It would have sucked being alone there.)

In about 20 minutes, we start making our way down. The others are still taking selfies on the peak. We go in silence, interrupted only by an occasional 'ow' and 'slippery' and 'watch out' and 'let's call the helicopter'.
Somewhere way down, the other four catch up on us. At this point, the way we walk is crippled. A Walking Song from Lord of The Rings is playing over and over again.

Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate
And though I oft have passed them by
A day will come at last when I
Shall take the hidden paths that run
West of the Moon and East of the Sun

Why be cocky against a mountain?

02.09.2018. The American Dream

I could film the events of this week and it would turn out to be a potboiler American college movie. However, given that I’d never experienced anything like American college, I feel no guilt about trying. In fact, moderate amounts of Americanisms are fun.
Last Sunday, we were taken downtown, only for some of us to hike right back uphill. Mount Roberts, full of trails, was engulfed in heavy breathing and knee pain (I was spared, thankfully). Slavic squat comes in handy at breaktimes!

 Studies have started boiling our heads (I am required to read 22 full books over 4 months and supposed to read 14 more. Serves me right for taking so many writing and literature courses.) So, on Wednesday, we felt ready for a cooldown (Yes, we are still in Alaska. Yes, one gets used to the climate and mild rain isn't any rain at all anymore.) What better cooldown than Auke Lake, splashing the walls of the university buildings?

 Fun fact: Auke means ‘little lake' in Tlingit. So, we jumped in Little Lake Lake. (moon moon, anyone?)
Friday, it was campus kickoff. Some 5 years ago, I would watch something like Pitch Perfect and flinch by the phrase 'I'm going to the activities fair'’ Such things don’t exist in Latvia, and, the introvert I am, I love to be thrown together with a group that shares my interests so that I don’t have to go and look for people myself. I did join a couple of clubs and got a bagful of free stuff I don’t need.

Later that evening, we had a bonfire party by the ocean. Seriously. Can something scream 'college' any louder than this? It started with basic drunkenness, wandering around, hugging people one doesn’t know, the typical thing. Then, a certain friend who also happens to be an international and my flatmate, disappears. A search party is organized, involving around 15-20 people frantically combing the area for a good 45 minutes – only to find this certain person passed out on the beach. I mean, we love her, but couldn't resist a good kick in the backside. (Later, it turned out she'd taken nine Aspirins before drinking. Kids, don’t try this at home.) The next surprise? Our ride had dumped us. So, we had a chance to become closer than ever and squeeze 21 people in 2 cars for a 30-minute drive. Totally legal.

The next day? What do you think? Horrible hangover, sitting around, watching movies about insomnia while falling asleep. Gross. I’ve also caught a mild cold from those who already had it last week (everyone else, that is).
When life slows down a little, the posts will probably change and I'll focus more on a topic, rather than journaling the events. But the first two weeks have been too eventful not to do that. I promise to do rants on American food and wasteful lifestyle sometime soon. Speaking of which, some flatmate of mine has been baking mozzarella sticks and has left the oven on. I've been up for a good two hours and only now did I notice. A-fucking-mazing. See what I mean?