Monday, November 28, 2005

Heading out

I sit in the Alaskan airlines airport in Bethel, Alaska.
Having not been here in months I can marvel on how things have changed.
Changes in both the outside world and in myself.

When I landed here such a long and short time ago I was emerging on a foreign world.
Everything surprised me.

The size of the airport, its hanger-like atmosphere.
The barren tundra, stretching as far as the eye can see.
The language barrier that created a forced taxi-cab conversation.

I wasn’t in Kansas any more.

Now I am back at the airport that brought me here.
The hangar-like appeal is not unusual. It is bigger than most of the airports here and is homey in its own way.
The tundra is covered in a thick layer of snow and is fascinatingly pockmarked with sparkling frozen waterways.
The language barrier is not nearly as hard as I originally thought, and I have found that the “forced” feeling of conversation was only awkward on my end.

Around me are a few of the people I met in the bush.

We are dressed similarly in the height of village fashion.
Jeans, snow pants, hoodies, scarves, and boots.
Our parkas sit in random heaps on the floor.

We are the height of cool.
The epitome of style.

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