16.12.2018. So Long, And Thanks For All The Fish

This is it.
Bags are packed. Room is cleaned. I'm flying out tonight.
I don't want to believe it. Yet I have to.
I don't want to talk about it, either. I'll just drop some pictures from our last hike together and let you figure out why I don't want to leave.
Thank you, Alaska. You're my home now.

09.12.2018. The Little Things I'll Miss

I'm not gonna say in a week's time I'll be packing my bags. Oops. Said it. Ouch.
At this point, everyone knows I'll miss Alaska. Everyone knows I'll miss the nature, the mountains, the forest, most importantly, I'll miss my friend family. That goes without saying. But there are also some small, 'insignificant' details I'll miss about this place.

1. Community.
I've realized a small community is something that just seems so right for me. I've experienced it before, such as in Taizé, but now I know that I really love living among a small number of people, knowing nearly everyone, knowing that I can barge into anyone's apartment at any time and nobody will think much of it. It makes one feel safe. Belonging.

2. Random chats with strangers.
Greeting 'hi, how are you' is an unwritten law. Whether a passer-by, someone at the bus stop, the cashier - the Latvian way of lowering the gaze and shutting down is a no-go. The first time I went to the store, I was almost creeped out by the cashier making small talk - I don't know you, why are you so interested in me??? Or the first time I had a proper chat about languages at the bus stop. I'm not looking forward to going back to where greeting or smiling at someone places you in the weirdo category.

3. Non-existent fashion.
Even though the climate in Latvia is rather similar to that in Juneau, Latvians - not just in cities, but also rurally - tend to pay a lot of attention to their attire and appearance. Why. Just why. Here, all that matters is staying dry, warm and comfortable. Sweatpants and hoodie to class? Perfectly okay. Hiking boots and Xtratufs all year long. No make-up, either. I probably can't even do mine anymore.

The list goes on, but these are the ones that came to mind right off the bat. Being friends with professors. Cheap gas. Wholesale groceries. Stuff.
One thing I won't miss? Food. No matter what, it's still crappy. But that's about it.

02.12.2018. Yes, I Do Study, Too

The coming week being the last week of studies, and the week after - the finals week, I thought I'd elaborate a bit on what I've been studying here. In Latvia, I'd concentrate more on the linguistics side of the English language. Here, however, I didn't have the option, so I've been exploring the more creative side of it - literature and writing.

1. Introduction to Creative Writing
Most people dismiss creative writing as an easy subject. Wait till you're asked to write a ghazal or a tritina. The class consisted of weekly writing assignments (1-2 complete prose or poetry pieces per week) and critiquing others' work. 10/10, would write again. The class has helped me grow as a writer, the requirements have been consistent, the material relevant. Hands down, amazing.
2. Memoir Writing
Possibly the most emotional class I've ever taken. No, definitely it is. Writing a memoir is like therapy. Unfolding the past in writing provides access to emotions previously tucked away. Most meetings were a flood of tears as we shared our stories. Incredible trust amongst ourselves. The professor, too, is wonderful - a renowned native writer. It's truly been an honor to learn from her - learn about myself, others, and memoir as a genre.

Yes, yes. Our university sits on this lake.

3. Advanced Literature: Discard Studies
Well...this has been...refreshing. The class took waste literature as its study object. Like, literature and movies that talk about trash - white trash and regular. People and emotions as trash, too. While some of the pieces were impossible to read (House of Leaves - don't read it. Just... don't), the approach itself, in the era of environmental disaster, is quite remarkable. Worth researching.
4. Beginning Tlingit I
I was so pumped enrolling in this class. Like... I get to study an indigenous language with just a few hundred speakers worldwide! Plus, it's an agglutinative language, meaning I'll have to reshape the way I think of languages! (Nerd excitement alert). Well... 4 months later, I know how to say my name, ask 'how are you' in three different ways, name random animals and objects, and play Go Fish. The class didn't progress. It moved so painfully slowly. I guess it coincides with the Tlingit culture - time is rather relative. Nevertheless, I really wanted to learn the basics. Did not. Sigh.

What we do in Tlingit... sigh

25.11.2018. Thankful for...?

My first Thanksgiving. Pretty much what I imagined it to be. A load of food, a bunch of people, and general fun. So....what am I thankful for this year?

1. The mountains. The spruce trees. The green that has sparked creativity I didn't know I possessed.

2. The ravens, the magpies, the blue jays, all the birds (birbs).

Wonderful photo by Kayla Shepherd (I think?)

3. The rain and the mud. There's so much beauty in the grey. Not even joking. 

4. The friends around me. We've formed a family. Can't imagine what life was like before I knew them.

5. The Zumba family. Shout out to Ana-Christine getting her licence to take over after me! So exciting!

6. The people awaiting back home. I kinda wish I could take some 5-10 people out of Latvia, plant them right here, and live happily ever after. That's how thankful I am for Alaska.

18.11.2018. Happy 100th, Latvia

Today, November 18, is the Independence Day of Latvia. What is more, November 18, 2018 is the centennial. My small country is a hundred years old today. So, to avoid sentimentality, I'll just plop in a traditional Latvian dessert recipe (and how difficult it is to make one in Alaska).



Rupjmaizes kārtojums/Rye bread trifle
Ingredients:
Proper dense rye bread
Cranberry/lingonberry/redcurrant jam
Sour cream (Greek yogurt works)
Sugar (optional)





1. Get yourself some rye bread. Every cornerstore in Latvia sells a variety of those. In Alaska, I had to start this dessert two days prior, as the bread had to be made (I still had some rye flour from the previous Latvian culinary extravaganza; otherwise, I'd have to order like 2 weeks prior). To make rye bread, combine 2/3 of the flour you want to use with boiling water, wait until it's not scorching hot and add caraway seeds, sugar, salt, and yeast. Cover and let stand for 24 hours. Add remaining flour, knead well, let stand for another 6 hours. Form a loaf. Bake at 180 C/ 350 F for 20 mins, then 200 C/400 F for 65-125 mins, depending on the size of your loaf.

2. Acquire jam. If you're Latvian, there's most likely some in the pantry. If you're in Alaska, go to three stores to finally find a pack of cranberries, combine with some water and sugar and make some quick jam.

3. Crumble the bread, add a bit of sugar and bake again to crisp it up (optional; if bread is sweet and dry enough, just crumble it).

4. Layer the bread, jam, sour cream in the respective order in a big tray or individual ones. Repeat layers as needed.

There we are. Happy birthday, Latvia.

11.11.2018. Round Two: UAS vs LU

11 weeks into studies, I feel like I can elaborate more on what I was unsure of last time I compared the two universities. As of now, I find myself leaning towards the American teaching system more and more. Here's why. (Unrelated photos just for fun.)

1. The reading system. For literature classes in Latvia, we'd be assigned a book to be read by a certain date, and up until that date we'd talk about history, random other works, do weird assignments not even close to the reading material. Then, when the book is due, everyone must somehow make their point about it in 1h30min without repeating what others have said, and the book is quickly forgotten.  Here it works differently. Book reading is due every class - a chapter of the book is to be read, progressing with it as we go. We (an assigned student) prepare discussion questions on the chapter. Thus, every class is actually dedicated to the reading (which literature should concern, no?) and all the history and references to other works come along the way, making way more sense when it's tied to the reading and not just thrown out there. In my mind, this system works better. 

The system also works when the professor brings their dog to class.

2. Professor-student relationship. Firstly, in every class I take, we sit in a circle. Everyone, including the professor. This instantly diminishes the power relationship between the teacher and the students and positions one on an equal level. Secondly, we're on a first-name basis with all professors. English, obviously, eliminates the confusion of tu/jūs (formal and informal thou). In Latvia however, just writing a damn e-mail to a professor is a world of confusion, as some like to be addressed by Dear Prof. Something, others hate the generalized term professor and want to be addressed by their degree, but go figure who wants what. I am much more comfortable starting my e-mail with Hi Will.

Happy belated Halloween.

3. Feedback. Apologies to all the professors who do provide feedback, however, I must say in Latvia I'd get my papers back with a few unexplained underlines and a mark. That's it. Here, we get feedback. Like, sentences. Paragraphs even. Proper feedback. That's why there is motivation to do the assignments, even if there are more than there would be in Latvia. Sorry, folks, but if the impression is that the work is not even read and nobody cares - the students don't care, either. Applies to schools, too, probably even more so. I do realize the workload on professors in Latvia is much worse than it is here, and the salaries - way lower. I don't blame the professor. It's just that... Latvia just doesn't have it together. That's that.

Update: Raptor is up and running, duct taped and trash bagged.

04.11.2018. A Series of Unfortunate Events

This string of events happened to me Saturday morning. Not even joking. (Okay, truth be told, one of the events happened the morning before, but I feel like it fits in here. Close enough.)

Damn. My butt's gonna be wet. A heap of snow on the driver seat.

During our first month of exchange, five of us exchangers bought a car. Not just any car. A 1990 Nissan Sentra, nicknamed Raptor. To give you an idea of Raptor: three doors don't lock, one, in turn, doesn't unlock. Only the driver door opens from the outside. A hole in the trunk is covered by a wooden plank. And, certainly, the whole of Juneau first hears it, then smells it and only then sees it. That's our Raptor.

Anyhow, my fridge shelf is empty, and a heap of snow - barged into the Raptor through that one window which won't close - is not holding me back. One wet butt more or less, big deal.

I pull out of the UAS housing lot and nearly into the ditch. Wow. The black ice is strong this morning. I proceed to drive in walking speed.

Doing a slippery dance and covering in cold sweat on every turn, I reach the highway. It feels as if there's a better grip, I exhale in relief and accelerate a little, going smoothly. A truck flips, flies and lands in front of me.

Wait, what?

My foot has hit the brake before my brain has painted the picture. What???

A truck. From the opposite lane. Flew over the highway railings. Flipped twice. And landed feet away from the red nose of the Raptor. 

I'd jump out and run over to the truck but the damn driver door that doesn't even have the inside panel..by the time I finish nibbling around the handle and thrust myself out of the car, the driver of the truck has already crept out of the upside-down vehicle. Other cars form a line behind me, cops are already here. That fast?

'Are you okay??'

'Fine, fine..'

The guy is obviously in shock, but (shockingly) seems alright. The police take over and let us pass. Shaking, I reach Fred Meyers as fast and furious as a phlegmatic snail. 

By the entrance of the store, a very obese lady is screaming her head off at an employee that the motorized cart is too small and she won't fit in it. 'Murica. I slip between aisles.
***//

My breathing has normalized, my shopping cart has filled - not really, about $20 worth of groceries, I can't think straight. Besides, I only took a $20 with me. I hand it to the cashier. 

She squints, turns and twists and flips it. I glance at her questioningly, she glances at me suspiciously and grabs the receiver. Oh god, I think. What's going on now.

Before the store manager has reached us, I have it figured out in my head. Of course I know what's wrong. No idea how severe a crime using counterfeit money is in the States, but I'm guessing it's pretty bad. Shaking again. 

The manager arrives and I blurt it out to him. Halloween party last week. People were throwing around joke bills. Must have accidentally kept one. I probably look hysterical. The manager is about to get hysterical with laughter. He lets me have the groceries for free and makes me promise I'll bring real money next time I come shopping. I thank him about a million times and exit the store with a face redder than the Raptor.

The Raptor, into which I squeeze, turn the key, and...

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing. 

No deafening noise accompanied with putrid smell of gas. The Raptor is sulking.

***

I'm almost late to class when I return. I haven't had breakfast yet, either, so I bite aggressively into a carrot. At least I got that for free.