tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52942800225102948032024-03-21T06:47:57.614-08:00Left of the Rising SunMy Life as an Alaskan Bush TeacherMegan Gundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282893316741375020noreply@blogger.comBlogger70125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5294280022510294803.post-51270870710163921032017-06-08T00:07:00.001-08:002017-06-08T00:07:52.231-08:00Make the Move to my New Blog: Married in Mukluks!This blog is (clearly) no longer updated. My life has changed dramatically since this was first created, and I've moved to another site. Please feel free to browse through these older posts, as they accurately reflect my life as a young single bush teacher in rural Alaska.<br />
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If you want to know what I'm up to now, head on over to <a href="http://www.marriedinmukluks.com/">Married in Mukluks</a>. As the URL suggests, I am now married, with two kids and living in Southwest Alaska . . . so things have changed!Megan Gundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282893316741375020noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5294280022510294803.post-41127716177866087792013-01-10T23:52:00.000-09:002013-02-12T23:57:53.174-09:00Our Semi-Annual Trip to the CityRight now, this is our life: we go Outside once a year, and we go to the City twice a year.<br />
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I was ready for our trip to the City (otherwise known as Anchorage) this year. I needed a haircut, some clothes, a manicure, and we desperately needed food. Even more than all that, I just needed to be back in a city where I could go out to a movie with my boyfriend on a date or not have to prepare my own food for once.<br />
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We went shopping. A lot. But we only get to go shopping twice a year, so don't judge. :)</div>
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A REAL DATE NIGHT!!! Dinner and a movie with my sweetheart in our new clothes and new phones and mani/pedi and new shoes and new haircuts . . . and I'm even wearing a city purse. </div>
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Finally, I get to wear city shoes OUTSIDE! (Nevermind that Aaron got tired of me walking so slow on the ice and made me change into more practical snowboots halfway through the night) lol</div>
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Date night at the movies!</div>
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Hey Dad, we found the recruiter in the Anchorage mall! (Next duty station?? lol jokes)</div>
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And of course, no trip out of the bush is complete without an Emergency Room visit. Last time it was me . . . this time it was Aaron. We literally left the restaurant mid-bite and drove straight to the ER. He was not happy, but they fixed him up.</div>
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After hours of waiting for help in the Native hospital, we were tired and hungry. And this was the last picture I took at the hospital before they tried to just give him immodium and send us on our way (I could have gotten that at Walmart and checked myself out . . . after four hours of waiting in a hospital, they'd better give us something better than that!)</div>
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Next up, our Christmas trip to Aaron's parents' home in Wainwright (AK)! </div>
Megan Gundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282893316741375020noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5294280022510294803.post-89760502006564608122013-01-08T23:16:00.000-09:002013-02-12T23:19:25.707-09:00That Time We Went to a Ski Resort and Didn't SkiGreetings from the Far North!<br />
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I've been trying to fix the layout of this blog, but for some reason I am fighting the system. It could have something to do with the slow slow slow internet.<br />
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Regardless, I should follow through with my promise to blog more often!<br />
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This Christmas was my first Christmas away from my parents. Aaron and I decided to stay in Alaska this year for our break and save our trip Outside for the summer (during bug season). <br />
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First, we spent a week in the Anchorage area. It was actually cheaper to stay at the Alyeska Ski Resort in Girdwood on Monday and Tuesday than in Anchorage, so we stayed there for two days. <br />
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*Finally, I'm 25 so I can rent an AWESOME car. Someday, I want one of those to keep.</div>
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Aaron did the part of the dutiful boyfriend and scraped the windshield for us (while I made faces and took pictures from the inside).</div>
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Self-portrait (only because Aaron was busy scraping the windshield again).</div>
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Like a postcard! Aaron had better scenery pictures but they were lost when his phone was restored. :(</div>
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The saline pool at Alyeska Ski Resort! It was beautiful, and we spent most of our time here under the wooden cathedral ceiling. </div>
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Aaron had a good time swimming . . . I had a good time watching and relaxing in the GIANT hot tub. </div>
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The entry/exit of Alyeska Ski Resort at Christmas time. </div>
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It was so cold in Anchorage while we were there! The North Slope was literally warmer than Anchorage, but we felt dumb for wearing our parkas in the city so we just shivered proudly and ran from place to place. This is also probably the reason I have so many pictures of us by the fire.</div>
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Best shared desert ever!</div>
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We spent some time here, too. The second floor lobby had floor to ceiling views of the slopes and an amazing fireplace with a festive moose head . . . because this is ALASKA, people. Also, it was right by Starbucks. This may have been the real reason why we spent time here. :)</div>
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Some of you may be wondering by now: Where are all the pictures of us skiing? Well, we didn't ski. We didn't even really want to. We just stayed inside and cuddled like snow bunnies the whole time we were there. </div>
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I wanted to ride the tram to the top of the mountain, but Aaron vetoed that idea. As it turns out, he was right all along. The tram crashed into one of the support poles a few days later. A girl was hurt and it took hours to get all the people down the mountain by snow machine and chair lift. </div>
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If you get the chance to buy a few nights at this resort during the off-season, do it (especially if you like to ski)! It's beautiful! Just a word to the wise though: bring food from Anchorage if it's off-season and in the beginning of the week. There was not much open when we were there. </div>
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Next up, the rest of our vacation in Anchorage!</div>
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Megan Gundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282893316741375020noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5294280022510294803.post-52364196720348697582012-12-30T21:37:00.001-09:002012-12-30T21:37:35.564-09:00Don't Worry, I'm Still AliveAfter more than a year's hiatus, I'm back. I do not even know how to explain my blog silence . . . mostly I was just concentrating on living my life and forgot to document it for all you fine folk. Plus once you miss a month or two, it's hard to face the blog guilt.<br />
<br />
Regardless, I vow to blog more regularly. A friend recently pointed out to me that even though I may feel my life is fairly ordinary and not blog-worthy, it is not the kind of ordinary that most people are living. I hear you, O Curious Ones, I hear you. I may even back-post some of the more significant happening of the past year.<br />
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Check back often for updates!<br />
<br />
-Megan<br />
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<br />Megan Gundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282893316741375020noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5294280022510294803.post-65905724255636404082011-10-18T18:49:00.000-08:002011-10-23T18:51:03.538-08:00Attack of the Teacher<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:DocumentProperties> <o:Template>Normal.dotm</o:Template> <o:Revision>0</o:Revision> <o:TotalTime>0</o:TotalTime> <o:Pages>1</o:Pages> <o:Words>126</o:Words> <o:Characters>722</o:Characters> <o:Company>Oklahoma Christian University</o:Company> <o:Lines>6</o:Lines> <o:Paragraphs>1</o:Paragraphs> <o:CharactersWithSpaces>886</o:CharactersWithSpaces> <o:Version>12.256</o:Version> </o:DocumentProperties> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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<div class="MsoNoSpacing">Parent Teacher Conference days are so long and intense!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And for some reason we don’t get a day off like most L48 teachers do to make up for the over-contract time . . . let’s hope we at least get financially compensated.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">There are occasional rewards to teaching in the bush, though.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On my street-lit<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>5-minute walk back home (take that, Gambell!), I spied three of my four girl students walking across the village square.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I quickly hid behind a snowbank and made a few snowballs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When they got closer, I pelted them with snow and then tackled them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One girl pretended to be dead, so we held a mini-funeral.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When she wouldn’t get up, I threw some snow down her coat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had a little snowball fight and then planned our sleepover party for next week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Down in the Lower 48, I would be concerned about a few lawsuits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Up here?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is just life as a bush teacher.</div><!--EndFragment-->Megan Gundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282893316741375020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5294280022510294803.post-12967038582641331582011-10-15T18:39:00.000-08:002011-10-23T18:49:44.057-08:00Riding the Bus is SO Lower-48<div class="MsoNoSpacing">In the village, I answer to a lot of names. Collier. Ms. Collier. Megan. Teacher. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Almost always, my class calls me Teacher. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">It’s like stepping back a hundred years into the old prairie one-room schoolhouses, except I’m on the tundra and I teach only half of the elementary in one-room (not all of it). So instead of Little House on the Prairie, it’s like Little House on the Tundra.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Anyway, now I have a new name: Coach Collier.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">If you know me at all, you are either laughing or holding your breath out of sheer shock. Trust me, though, it’s not a joke. I am co-coaching High School Volleyball just like I did in Gambell. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Our first game was an away game this weekend. Since the villages are all so far apart, we have to fly to all our away games. This one was a tournament against Alak School (Wainwright, AK) and Kali School (Point Lay, AK) in Point Lay. Point Lay is about an hour west from Atqasuk, situated on the northwest coast of Alaska.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">We left at 2:30 on Friday afternoon on the Beechcraft 1900 (a 19-seater operated by Era Aviation). We picked up the Wainwright team and then arrived in Point Lay at about 4:00 pm. We had just enough time to unpack the plane, unpack the bus, sort out the uniforms, warm up, and stretch before our 5:15pm game against Wainwright. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p><br />
</o:p></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Wainwright is arguably the most aggressive volleyball team in the district. They went to state last year. They brought 11 players, a huge playbook, and all sorts of fancy gear.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">We brought exactly 6 players, no plays, and the gear that Wainwright let us borrow for the past month.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">So, we lost. We ate after that game, and then played another match against Point Lay. We won that match, watched Wainwright kill Point Lay, and then we played our scheduled massacre with Wainwright in a third match.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">We all slept on a classroom floor, and woke up before the sun (though that’s not saying much during an Alaskan October) to play our fourth match against Point Lay. We lost the first set because two-thirds of our team doesn’t function well in the morning. We lost the second set because we are sore losers.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">So that’s that. We hopped on the Beechcraft when it came to pick us up in the middle of a blizzard, and rode the turbulence all the way to Wainwright before landing in Atqasuk. Magnus was our pilot on this flight, so none of us were exactly sure we were going to make it back to the village alive. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Every pilot in the bush has a reputation that proceeds him or her. To my knowledge, Magnus has never crashed a plane. But there are stories statewide of near misses. Rumor has it that he’s Swedish and has a wife in Thailand, but he’s been flying in Alaska for nigh on 30 years. Every time I see him pull up in a plane that I’m scheduled to ride in, I say a quick prayer. If he’s flying, you can expect extreme turns, quick take-offs, and even quicker descents. Landings are usually crooked and at a 45-degree angle until just about the time you feel like you could grab a handful of snow if the windows were open.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">We did make it make to Atqasuk in one piece. Most of the team was sleeping by the time we got near the village. We were all awake for the landing, though, because Magnus scared us out of our sleep. One player awoke screaming our descent and turn happened so rapidly! No one really laughed at her though, because none of us were sure that the scream was unwarranted.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Anyway, it’s nice to be back in Atqasuk with a comfortable bed and no teenagers to herd around. I will have to spend all of Sunday lesson planning for this week, unfortunately. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">This weekend was fun, but I could use a real break. Sometimes I feel like it would be nice to just have a 9-5 job. Teaching is tiring and exhausting.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div>Megan Gundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282893316741375020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5294280022510294803.post-60014344830164963932011-10-02T17:50:00.017-08:002011-10-19T22:47:25.129-08:00Arctic Hikes and Northern Lights<div class="MsoNoSpacing">I started the day with a very simple, relaxed plan: read a book, catch up with my blogging, and maybe write a few letters. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">I ended the day in the back of a police vehicle, looking out the barred windows as the northern lights set the sky ablaze.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Do I have your attention now?</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">My plan for a quiet Saturday away from the school was effective for about 2 hours. I slept in until about 10:00am, ate some breakfast, and read a book for an hour or so. I know you’re thinking that this is boring stuff to blog about, but de-stressing time happens so rarely that I view it as a blog-worthy event. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">It wasn’t meant to last, though, because Mary Ellen called and invited me on a walk. If you know Mary Ellen, then you know that she actually means ‘trek’ when she says ‘walk.’ I should mention that even a small walk requires preparation on the Slope Our winter is starting to set in (think snow-covered tundra, iced-over ponds, and twenty degree weather), so we put on our early winter outfit. I wore my silk long johns, jeans, wool socks, hiking boot, two hats, snow mittens, fleece jacket, and parka (with my new fox fur ruff). In a few weeks I will need to add a layer, but it’s not that cold yet. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Once Shannon and I had geared up for the walk, we met the rest of our walking party at the principal’s house (where Mary Ellen also lives). Mary Ellen’s boyfriend (a local native) and the principal Kathy also joined us on the walk.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">The snow is perfect for packing and shaping! I made little snowmen during the first half hour of the walk and left them on posts on the side of the road. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">There was about an inch on the ground, though there was up to four inches in places where the snow gathered in crevasses. All of the tundra streams and ponds froze over about two weeks ago, so it’s a bit easier walking now. <br />
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</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">We meandered outside of the village a ways with no clear destination in mind. We took a Honda trail south of Atqasuk, and then went west a little to a small fishing hole. We stopped to take pictures because it was absolutely gorgeous. You could see right through to the bottom where all the arctic grayling were swimming.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">We then backtracked east and walked right past the airport just as the afternoon flight was arriving. We stopped and waved our arms really big, and the pilot tipped his wings side to side in response before landing on our little gravel airstrip. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">A faint Honda trail led us to one of the old coal mining sites. Atqasuk was a coal-mining community in the 1940s and 1950s, and all of the old buildings and equipment was just left abandoned when the coal mine closed. There are old stoves and machines everywhere in this area . . . even inscriptions in coal mining shack walls that date back to the 1940s. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We even saw some people out ice-fishing (quite successfully).</div><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">By this point, we were hungry and sore so we headed back to town. We all changed into warmer (and dryer) clothes, and then met back up for homemade pizza and card games. The villagers on the Slope are big Nertz fans (though they call it Snertz), so we brushed up on our nertzing skills.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">It was a long and satisfying day that left us all exhausted and tired. We put in an episode of the Big Bang Theory, and planned to call it a night after the episode ended.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Of course, plans in the Alaskan bush never go as scripted. At about 11:30 pm, my cell phone rang. We have no caller ID in Atqasuk (really, I’m grateful that my phone even works at all), so I had no clue who was calling me. I mean, who do I know that would call me at 11:30 pm Alaska time? </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">I thought I recognized the voice as Ray, the police officer on duty. However, I couldn’t figure out how he would have got my cell number . . . so I wasn’t sure that it was him. He never identified himself on the phone, either. He kept saying he was coming to pick me up and wanted to know where I was. Strange, right? I was even more confused when he said he was going to leave Dave (our counselor) behind so there was room in the vehicle.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Mary Ellen and Shannon were listening to my end of the conversation, and asking me what was going on during this whole time. They asked me who it was, and all I had to say was ‘I’m not sure; this conversation isn’t going well.’ They asked me what was going on, and all I could think of to say was ‘I’m not sure, but he wants to pick me up and I think he already has Dave hidden somewhere.’</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">About ten seconds later the police cruiser drove up with red and blue lights shining. Naturally, we threw on our boots and parkas . . . and jumped in the back of the police car.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Sure enough, it was Ray. He was out on patrol when the northern lights started up. He picked up Dave, drove out to the airport (where ironically there are the least manmade lights) to watch them, and decided that I should see come out to see the northern lights, too.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Once we got all the sheer ridiculousness straightened out, we all drove out to the airport where Dave was standing on the runway watching the northern lights all by himself. (Good thing there weren’t any bears around today, right?) We watched the lights through the bars of the car windows until Ray let us out of the back cage. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">It was well worth the craziness, as I’ve never seen northern lights of this magnitude before! They were bright green, white, and sometimes purplish. It is so hard to describe the movement . . . the lights actually dance and twist across the sky. It looks so alien and foreign—like if you close your mind to everything you know is true about your place in the universe, you might be on another planet somewhere out in the void. The whole thing seemed so beautifully unnatural. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My camera doesn't even begin to do it justice.</div><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">We probably stood out there half an hour, just watching the dance. The lights would form a tight, twisting tunnel from one end of the sky to the other, and then spread into a starburst across the entire sky within moments. The colors rippled across the sky with increasing levels of brightness and intensity. We are so far north that the northern lights are directly overhead (not in the northern sky). They fill up the entire overhead dome in the most incredible and dreamlike way. It’s impossibly surreal.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Ray drove us home after we were too cold and too tired to stand on the runway any longer. I can honestly say I’ve been in the back of a police car more often since I moved up here than in my whole life prior.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">I fell asleep about five minutes after getting home, without writing a single letter or blog post.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Life in the Alaskan bush is outlandishly unpredictable – and that’s half the fun of it.</div>Megan Gundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282893316741375020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5294280022510294803.post-43587045231493265222011-09-30T18:51:00.000-08:002011-10-23T18:52:07.616-08:00Bear-ly Alive<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:DocumentProperties> <o:Template>Normal.dotm</o:Template> <o:Revision>0</o:Revision> <o:TotalTime>0</o:TotalTime> <o:Pages>1</o:Pages> <o:Words>217</o:Words> <o:Characters>1239</o:Characters> <o:Company>Oklahoma Christian University</o:Company> <o:Lines>10</o:Lines> <o:Paragraphs>2</o:Paragraphs> <o:CharactersWithSpaces>1521</o:CharactersWithSpaces> <o:Version>12.256</o:Version> </o:DocumentProperties> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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<div class="MsoNoSpacing">Not much has happened lately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m just working much longer days than is probably healthy and stressing out about things I should probably just let go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">I left school today and was bombarded by a flock of kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had obviously planned this ambush as they were well-armed with piles and piles of snowballs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tackled a few, ran behind a snow bank, and threw a few hastily packed snowballs of my own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Twenty minutes later, I finally made it home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These are the moments that make living in the bush bearable.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Speaking of bears, there have been a LOT of brown bears in the area during the past month.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A few bears got pretty close to the village and everyone was worried that the teachers would get eaten.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nobody has yet.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">In other news, one of the teachers left for good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No warning, no conversation . . . all we found was a letter on an envelope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He just got up one morning and left on the morning plane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s being called ‘medical leave,’ but we all know he’s not coming back.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">One of my friends in Barrow said that a teacher there did the very same thing last week.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">It is hard out here in rural Alaska, and I realize it is unfair to judge another person in this situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still . . . a contract is a contract, right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And even more importantly, there is a level of decorum and professionalism that should be ever-present no matter the situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t imagine just getting on a plane without so much as a word or explanation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the military, that would get you sent to the brig.</div><!--EndFragment-->Megan Gundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282893316741375020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5294280022510294803.post-45776441095956422692011-08-05T17:48:00.000-08:002011-10-19T17:48:46.765-08:00First ImpressionsIt's amazing how two districts can be so different.<br />
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So far, I am super impressed by NSBSD. They seem to generally have their act together. More than that though, they aren't so enamored with themselves that they forget to be normal people. <br />
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I'm not saying *my last Alaska district, which I won't say but you could figure out* didn't have its advantages. *My Last Alaska District, code-named MLAD* functions under a completely different (and far more superior) technology paradigm than the North Slope, and their district library system is more thorough. <br />
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That's about it, though. North Slope beats them in every other category.<br />
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First off, let's just address the money issue. The pay with NSBSD is better, for both salary and added duties. <br />
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The housing is better.<br />
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The administration is better, at least in my village. I absolutely ADORE my principal! She isn't afraid to say her mind, and she sticks up for her staff. She doesn't drink the district brainwashing juice (so to speak). I am so terrifically lucky this year! It will be a dream to have a principal that is supportive and NORMAL.<br />
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And honestly, the attitude is better. I have not heard anybody ONCE utter the phrase 'You just have to understand. This is the BUSH.' (translation: Things are screwed up. Accept it because we're too lazy to do anything about it.) I probably heard that phrase twice a day with MLAD.<br />
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There aren't excuses here, and I like that. <br />
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There are quite a few MLAD transplants on the Slope this year. I think that speaks volumes. <br />
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I like the people I've met. Well, for the most part. The hiring for this year was a bit unfortunate for me personally, as the district exclusively hired people with bush Alaska experience. I'm the only single female new hire, and one of the few on the Slope. I also appear to be the youngest . . . the average new hire age was somewhere around 45 years old. There are a few young couples that I enjoy; Devin and Colby in Point Lay are two of my favorite people on the Slope thus far. Let me sum all that up for you: there is not a single male teacher in sight. *sigh* <br />
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The Prudhoe Bay workers would find my dilemma hilarious and terribly ironic.<br />
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Really, the biggest downside is that NSBSD blocks Facebook. I feel like there must be a workaround, but I find the whole thing a bit insulting. They say it is a 'security' issue, though if you ask another time they might tell you it is a 'FERPA' issue or a 'bandwidth' issue. Really it's a 'trust' issue; they don't trust us not to Facebook during the workday. It is a power play that I find distasteful. I am determined to find a way around it.<br />
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Anyway, that's it for today. There won't be many pictures to post during the next two days. I just sit on a metal folding chair all day and watch powerpoint presentations . . . trust me, you aren't missing anything.<br />
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<br />Megan Gundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282893316741375020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5294280022510294803.post-19050018946177371922011-08-01T23:43:00.000-08:002011-09-10T20:51:07.246-08:00To Barrow We Will GoI spent a *short* day in Atqasuk, and then NSBSD yanked me out of the village. I had just enough time to figure out what I needed to do . . . but not enough time to do any of it. <br />
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Now I'm in Barrow for a TEN DAY New Hire Inservice. They better have something thrilling and groundbreaking to present; ten days is an awful long time! Luckily, they are paying us per diem so I should earn a little over $2000 for this trip to Barrow. I'll take it.<br />
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A little Caravan bush plane came to pick a few of us up in Atqasuk, and we flew a whole 20 minutes back to Barrow.<br />
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<i>(Actually, none of the seats in this plane are from the original caravan. They have cannibalized a couple of older planes to outfit the inside of this one. This card is essentially useless.)</i></div>
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<i>(Our friendly Era pilot. No co-pilot is assigned to a bush plane this small.)</i></div>
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<i>(Usually, they throw in 5-6 seats and use the back area for mail/cargo. Nothing to go out of ATQ this time, though.)</i></div>
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The district is putting us up in a hotel, can you believe it? BSSD would have us on classroom floors and showering together in public locker rooms. No lie. NSBSD is paying for us to stay at The Top of the World hotel for 9 days. Are you curious how much that costs? I took a picture of the receipt. </div>
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No, you're not reading that wrong. It cost NSBSD over $2000 in lodging just for me during this inservice. Plus the $2000 they are paying me to work during this time. Plus all the food expenses. You can start breathing again. I know. I know. (Multiply that times 50 new teachers . . . repeat after me: oil money.)<br />
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Mercifully, there was nothing planned for us today. Shannon and I went the fur shop to see what they had in stock . . . and got sucked in to a few major purchases. :-) I was wanting a new ruff for my parka anyway, and they had some gorgeous furs in their store!! I bought an entire arctic fox fur pelt for my red parka. The face is even still attached, whiskers and all! It is mostly white with some black tipping (the season was probably changing when it was caught). Shannon bought two chocolate arctic fox pelts since she is having a traditional parka made in the village for her . . . I won't even tell you how much that cost. It's more than you think. </div>
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<i>(It's so SOFT! I couldn't wait to try it out!)</i></div>
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We dropped the furs off at our hotel room, and then walked 20 feet to the northernmost Mexican restaurant in the world. :) Dinner at Pepe's North of the Border Restaurant is too good a bragging right to pass up!</div>
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<i>(Yes, that is an Eskimo in traditional Mexican dress.)</i></div>
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If I didn't know any better, I would have thought I was back in Oklahoma! Well, except that my Dr. Pepper cost $3 and was brought out in a can. No refills here, I guess. In summation: the food was good, the prices were insane, and the experience was priceless. </div>
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Inservice starts tomorrow, bright and early. I have no idea what to expect, except that this inservice will be WAY different than my Arkansas inservice would have been!</div>
<br />Megan Gundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282893316741375020noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5294280022510294803.post-85345626615034735802011-07-30T18:37:00.003-08:002011-09-06T19:20:03.250-08:00Over the Arctic Circle<div class="MsoNoSpacing">I crossed over the Arctic Circle today! I spent the day flying over the length of Alaska, and after four ‘airports’ I am ready to spend some time on solid ground.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjeHhaJ3O9HQzaQxMjyvTwJS3dHFbnsy1l8liFpm-TrFnZAQTXX76grMYTYGR6YnitleeApEAJwGdKA0T4tcBFHgH2-YzJsExenf_HDGthkEGEhfC26Zk7lJPFwcU3N6KZZmYTFBXMmvE/s1600/P1010093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjeHhaJ3O9HQzaQxMjyvTwJS3dHFbnsy1l8liFpm-TrFnZAQTXX76grMYTYGR6YnitleeApEAJwGdKA0T4tcBFHgH2-YzJsExenf_HDGthkEGEhfC26Zk7lJPFwcU3N6KZZmYTFBXMmvE/s320/P1010093.JPG" width="320" /></a>I left Anchorage way too early in the morning for any sane human being to be awake. If you’ve never flown in bush Alaska, you may never have seen the Boeing 747 Combination planes they have up here. Since there isn’t a mad rush for passenger seats between Anchorage and rural Alaska, they have special planes built for carrying half-passenger and half-cargo loads. Locally, they are called Combis.<br />
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</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRTDDuAssXImkp1RnxsMEh59AWP1QdCr_kzje8ahfTZHGOAHx4xHxlwicKFYhq-mXIjHt0vhyu91nhDZsb2ls0lQFFX6P8DXggup1d9lSeW4H17jH92OqcqAR4gQELdVWF2yNGZAICG4g/s1600/photo-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRTDDuAssXImkp1RnxsMEh59AWP1QdCr_kzje8ahfTZHGOAHx4xHxlwicKFYhq-mXIjHt0vhyu91nhDZsb2ls0lQFFX6P8DXggup1d9lSeW4H17jH92OqcqAR4gQELdVWF2yNGZAICG4g/s320/photo-1.JPG" width="239" /></a> The front half is a cargo hold, and the back half is dedicated to carrying passengers. There is no way to back a plane that big onto a skywalk bridge, so you have to exit the airport down a flight of stairs and walk across the Anchorage tarmac to the Combi. Once you arrive at your destination in rural Alaska, you exit off the plane onto the tarmac and walk into a terminal building. To my knowledge, there are two of these Combis in Alaska. One of them flies the western route to Kotzebue/Nome, and the other flies the northern route to Fairbanks/Prudhoe Bay/Barrow. Sometimes the Combi skips a few of those cities and takes a direct flight, and sometimes it jumps inbetween all of them.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Apparently, I purchased the milk-run flight to Barrow . . . so my Combi plane made a stop in Fairbanks. And then Prudhoe Bay. And then Barrow. This made a long trip even longer, but I did meet some interesting people along the way. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">On my flight to Fairbanks, I sat next to the Vice President of Alaskan Operations for BP. Of course, it was evident he didn’t know a thing about Alaska after only twenty minutes of conversation. If you have to ask me why somebody can’t drive a car from Anchorage to Dillingham, you shouldn’t be Vice President of any kind of Alaskan Operation.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuzUUD-gCqSEVmyXUw-X1c9o0nAhVpRcGF_UVpcJJOYJ4MLlFJeVyuStEfbDoA_81etMQsI19lBu7AaLAl7VUcMOsQfRNzind70C2OeipBg4D7y73OZyszbepMaJjOZA-6UxeHJbrgMxk/s1600/P7300238.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuzUUD-gCqSEVmyXUw-X1c9o0nAhVpRcGF_UVpcJJOYJ4MLlFJeVyuStEfbDoA_81etMQsI19lBu7AaLAl7VUcMOsQfRNzind70C2OeipBg4D7y73OZyszbepMaJjOZA-6UxeHJbrgMxk/s320/P7300238.JPG" width="320" /></a>On my flight to Prudhoe Bay, I sat next to an oil rig worker who was about my age. Actually, most of the flight from Anchorage to Prudhoe Bay (Deadhorse) was primarily oil workers coming up for a shift change. The guy next to me said that they work something like 6 weeks on the Slope, and then get 6 weeks off. It seems like a hard job, but I know the money is fantastic. He was saving up to build a house in Houston, Alaska. Lots of people in Southern Alaska work on the North Slope with the oil companies just to make ends meet. I asked him what it was really like, and he said that ‘There is a girl behind every tree.’ There are no trees on the North Slope of Alaska, once you get yourself past the Brooks Range. They shouldn’t complain, though, because I was pulling lightning 3G speed on my iPhone just sitting on the plane. Even Barrow can’t boast that. Also, Prudhoe Bay has these really cool FAKE bald eagles sitting on their tarmac . . . to ward off birds, I imagine. A bird hit is not good for a plane, no matter the size of the bird or the plane. (Personally, I think they should have REAL American bald eagles trained for the job . . . talk about outsourcing).</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPEG93CZytStPi05T3dYtTEkBxSL_NaW1tvPa-pd5I6OHXs875T5QKKdpYhXxWnA8QpMflb21BFHlUmHkkJIIByRtOh5-uPiKKlB0OCeiQuVV0MgQjVEtrZ5ljU4V6F8p99OinemY3DCE/s1600/P7300244.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPEG93CZytStPi05T3dYtTEkBxSL_NaW1tvPa-pd5I6OHXs875T5QKKdpYhXxWnA8QpMflb21BFHlUmHkkJIIByRtOh5-uPiKKlB0OCeiQuVV0MgQjVEtrZ5ljU4V6F8p99OinemY3DCE/s320/P7300244.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;"><o:p><i>(This is a picture of the Trans-Alaskan Pipeline, from the air. It's much bigger in real life, with space enough underneath for animals to travel through unimpeded).</i></o:p></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;"><o:p><br />
</o:p></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">I got in Barrow around 10:30 am after 6 hours of flying and sitting on tarmacs. It’s a funny little town of about 4,000 people. Unlike Nome, Barrow is technically still a village. The tourist trade isn’t as kitchy here, and it functions just like any small town might. There is a library, a museum, an elementary school, a middle school, a high school, a police department, a fire department, a pool, a skating rink, a few Chinese restaurants, a café, a Japanese restaurant, two pizza places, a fur shop, and a grocery store. You can find anything you might need in Barrow . . . for a price, and don’t expect a choice between brands. Even still, it’s better than most village stores.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">I spent some time at the district office meeting people, and then hopped on the 4:00 pm Era Aviation flight to Atqasuk with 3 dozen eggs and a half-gallon of milk on my lap. (Have you ever thought about what you can’t get without a Wal-Mart or direct flight to Anchorage?) If you have seen that show ‘Flying Wild Alaska’ on the Discovery Channel, this is the same little airline with little bitty airplanes. Actually, the second episode of the first season highlighted Barrow and Atqasuk. You should watch it sometime.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLNhV5cl8eA9UzHNHjHKALf4Bg46XHJuO3S11DZFWhW2XSaRBj4f0M5h8qs5Ksz85bCSOkafqUfDgxHjKm47X28gkh3RFsUcBRgouGbiSZybnLa8WvUigseJh3FFby6fL7GH5Z6JAc6yQ/s1600/P7300257.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLNhV5cl8eA9UzHNHjHKALf4Bg46XHJuO3S11DZFWhW2XSaRBj4f0M5h8qs5Ksz85bCSOkafqUfDgxHjKm47X28gkh3RFsUcBRgouGbiSZybnLa8WvUigseJh3FFby6fL7GH5Z6JAc6yQ/s320/P7300257.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">My fellow Oklahomans will find this piece of information interesting: Will Rogers and Wiley Post (Oklahomans) crashed their plane in Barrow . . . so the airport is named after them, just like in Oklahoma City! It's kind of weird to have started the journey at Will Rogers International Airport and nearly end it at the top of the world at Will Rogers/Wiley Post Memorial Airport. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">My little plane landed on the gravel airstrip in Atqasuk about 20 minutes after leaving Barrow skies. It is so nice living so close to a hub! A 90 minute flight over the Bering Sea from Nome to Siberia sounds exotic, but trust me it gets old and uncomfortable in a hurry. </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Atqasuk seems like a quaint little Alaskan village. More to come when I know more about the town . . . for now, I’m ‘bushed’ and it’s time to get some sleep! </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div>Megan Gundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282893316741375020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5294280022510294803.post-64155686693529417442011-07-29T18:36:00.002-08:002011-09-06T18:37:37.225-08:00I Love Anchorage (even if nobody else does)<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:DocumentProperties> <o:Template>Normal.dotm</o:Template> <o:Revision>0</o:Revision> <o:TotalTime>0</o:TotalTime> <o:Pages>1</o:Pages> <o:Words>186</o:Words> <o:Characters>1063</o:Characters> <o:Company>Oklahoma Christian University</o:Company> <o:Lines>8</o:Lines> <o:Paragraphs>2</o:Paragraphs> <o:CharactersWithSpaces>1305</o:CharactersWithSpaces> <o:Version>12.256</o:Version> </o:DocumentProperties> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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<div class="MsoNoSpacing">I absolutely love Anchorage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most bush teachers that I’ve met always say they hate Anchorage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think they are just jealous that they haven’t gotten an Anchorage job yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure, it’s a city . . . it’s not the middle of now where – but you can get to ‘nowhere’ within a half hour’s drive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The treed mountains are gorgeous, and the trail system in Anchorage is unsurpassed in all the world.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Unfortunately, I didn’t really get to enjoy Anchorage this time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was only in town a short while, and most of it was spent running around like a mad woman buying food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I didn’t have to eat, it would be ever so much easier to live in the bush.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As it is, I have 10 million pounds of pisachios and chocolate raisins making their way to the North Slope (along with $800 worth of other food).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I made sure to get a good variety this time; I still can’t eat mandarin oranges without suffering Gambell flashbacks.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">In other news, my Anchorage cousins are moving again!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Last time I came through in 2009-2010, they moved houses within the city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This time, they are moving away from Alaska!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’ve tried to move away from me every year . . . maybe I should take the hint!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>;)</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">I fly out SUPER EARLY in the morning to Barrow/Atqasuk, so it’s time for me to sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will post pictures soon!</div><!--EndFragment-->Megan Gundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282893316741375020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5294280022510294803.post-407946012563671772011-07-28T18:32:00.004-08:002011-09-06T18:35:54.095-08:00North to Alaska<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:DocumentProperties> <o:Template>Normal.dotm</o:Template> <o:Revision>0</o:Revision> <o:TotalTime>0</o:TotalTime> <o:Pages>1</o:Pages> <o:Words>324</o:Words> <o:Characters>1851</o:Characters> <o:Company>Oklahoma Christian University</o:Company> <o:Lines>15</o:Lines> <o:Paragraphs>3</o:Paragraphs> <o:CharactersWithSpaces>2273</o:CharactersWithSpaces> <o:Version>12.256</o:Version> </o:DocumentProperties> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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<div class="MsoNoSpacing">It’s a fantastically beautiful day in Anchorage! </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">I left Oklahoma City way early in the morning today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m always so sad to leave home, but I just keep telling myself this is the right thing to do.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Usually, I fly OKC-Dallas-Seattle-Anchorage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, a new flight from OKC to Chicago was added since I last lived in Alaska, so I chose that one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I took the Chicago to Anchorage flight, and I realized why this choice has not always been offered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a SUPER LONG flight!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Six hours is a long time to be in a plane and stay on the same continent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luckily I had my new Quiet-Comfort Bose headphones, and it was silent the whole time!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seriously, if you travel often on planes, this is the way to go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can’t hear a thing.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">The guy sitting next to me on the plane to ANC was the VP of Alaskan Operations for BP.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have no idea why he was flying coach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He didn’t know a thing about Alaska either; he told another girl she should drive from Anchorage to Dillingham because the landscape is beautiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Someone needs to tell him that there is NO ROAD from Anchorage to Dillingham.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Mary Ellen and her daughter picked me up at the Anchorage airport.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She worked with me in Gambell, and will also be at Atqasuk teaching with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s an older lady, but we get along famously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Our most important item of business was to find a set of cats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We both wanted a kitten to take with us to the village.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of the hardest parts about living away from home is not having a live-in furry friend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were looking for a kitten about 3 months old with all their shots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After taking a caffeine break, we set out on the hunt.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find a 3 month old cat in Alaska?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is not cat country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We looked at Animal Control, on Craigslist, the SPCA, and finally Petsmart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I finally found the PERFECT cat at Petsmart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then, the adoption process began.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had to fill out a two page application.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They wanted to meet any human that would live with or around the cat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They needed to call two references (my mom and my vet in Yukon, Oklahoma).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They also called the plant manager for Meade River School, and checked out my employer reference in Barrow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">It’s not looking good for me and the cat.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
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</i></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">"How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> </span></i></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">A.A.Milne</span></i></div><!--EndFragment-->Megan Gundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282893316741375020noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5294280022510294803.post-40824503351982577002011-07-19T19:36:00.003-08:002011-07-19T19:39:07.487-08:00Battle of the BooksFunniest Find Award: I store some stuff in the attic (because there's no more room in my room). I found two books with their front covers stuck together, presumably because it's been 1094 degrees in Oklahoma for the past month. <br />
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I'll let you figure out why I found this pairing hilarious.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZl2f4xPFfDEqjM4SdvZSnhdlnZxbIC4okBy7PzEi7_YscSsevjn0hyphenhyphenVufloZkxhIrTWZm68HJLw0bBckwv_Nzd1bcqwAoOIVLx8TV9apL-C31a-kELw6_mxpvPj1gi3z15ikQgoWSQK0/s1600/irony2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZl2f4xPFfDEqjM4SdvZSnhdlnZxbIC4okBy7PzEi7_YscSsevjn0hyphenhyphenVufloZkxhIrTWZm68HJLw0bBckwv_Nzd1bcqwAoOIVLx8TV9apL-C31a-kELw6_mxpvPj1gi3z15ikQgoWSQK0/s320/irony2.JPG" /></a></div><br />
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Irony is the best type of comedy.Megan Gundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282893316741375020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5294280022510294803.post-80369538599842920862011-07-18T19:27:00.000-08:002011-07-19T19:39:29.947-08:00Oh, The Things You'll FindWhen you move to Alaska, you find all sorts of crazy things in your room. Mostly in my room, I find a lot of random books. Seriously, there are hundreds in there . . . and I forgot that I squirreled them away in so many places. <br />
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Example 1: An Introductory French Course book, published in 1858 with an 1882 inscription in the front cover. <br />
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Example 2: The Best Lincoln Stories, published in 1898 with a 1900 inscription in the front cover. <br />
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Example 3: The Giver, First Edition published in 1993 with an author-autographed inscription (Reads: With love to those who read - remember - and GIVE - Lois Lowry, 1994)<br />
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Example 4: Fablehaven, Advanced Reader's Copy (ARC)<br />
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Where did I get some of those books? I have no clue. Especially that first one. I mean, I don't know a word in French. German? Yes. Spanish? Yes. Siberian Yupik? Yes. English? Of course. But French? Why do I have that? <br />
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I have way too much stuff. I've sent tubs and tubs of stuff up to Alaska, and yet I still have a room that looks well-lived in. <br />
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I swear it all multiplies behind my back.Megan Gundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282893316741375020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5294280022510294803.post-25819837643760730022011-07-16T08:29:00.005-08:002011-07-19T21:41:21.952-08:00It All Ends HereYou know what I'm talking about. <br />
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Harry Potter. <br />
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It's over.<br />
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Well, it will never really be over for me. But the point is there will never be anything new to look forward to (unless we count <a href="http://www.pottermore.com/">www.pottermore.com</a>).<br />
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I grieved and passed through the mourning stage back in 2007 when I finished the seventh book, though, so today wasn't as bad as I thought it might have been. Still, it is sad to see the end of an era, essentially the end of my childhood.<br />
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I didn't go to the midnight showing this time, but I still went opening day. Obligatory pictures are below. And yes, I made my Ravenclaw shirt and my sister made her badger shirt. If I have to explain why she is wearing a yellow badger, you aren't my friend anymore. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP8rPMAO-jsQPQD_BbjrG3NPOKjEi3rj6HXt3G9I6-pxdX0wKYwUfYqSpgNXM7adgPUyWYUd1Qkk33OjxWq0sMHJyI6Pa6kZd6weKUwrvjn1fBg4q7C4Hmd294rGQFa2vyJrzkuQh2M2A/s1600/photo-10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP8rPMAO-jsQPQD_BbjrG3NPOKjEi3rj6HXt3G9I6-pxdX0wKYwUfYqSpgNXM7adgPUyWYUd1Qkk33OjxWq0sMHJyI6Pa6kZd6weKUwrvjn1fBg4q7C4Hmd294rGQFa2vyJrzkuQh2M2A/s320/photo-10.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>My sister's boyfriend James, my sister Amanda, and myself rockin' the 3D shades.</i></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyQ9Hyro7N7A0J3utdJ63TJNqbbZ2L01iN_YXNAoXGN4ejfZnMYcDW3l27uYtsl_Rv7ALxR8xjta8P2kQJh1lrEqtVENhu1TYJkU7wwi0md0MAfs1ecdXhR6-i-4KXnsfsG_47Zyr4_bc/s1600/photo-8.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyQ9Hyro7N7A0J3utdJ63TJNqbbZ2L01iN_YXNAoXGN4ejfZnMYcDW3l27uYtsl_Rv7ALxR8xjta8P2kQJh1lrEqtVENhu1TYJkU7wwi0md0MAfs1ecdXhR6-i-4KXnsfsG_47Zyr4_bc/s320/photo-8.JPG" width="297" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The flash on my iPhone was unfortunate. Our faces aren't THAT white, I promise.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9GDmlvaXdNoipkDpfOaXM2GW9OfN0tgtepMXsX9ZhTK7j3x96HcgZUqg9X9e6uBJHBlvIgRDDsO3vEEilHHbdCjPid8USsK8rQK9Bik8hB9iv3f-UJV9w_yOX23kMy6IthM6BR0QYk6M/s1600/photo-9.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9GDmlvaXdNoipkDpfOaXM2GW9OfN0tgtepMXsX9ZhTK7j3x96HcgZUqg9X9e6uBJHBlvIgRDDsO3vEEilHHbdCjPid8USsK8rQK9Bik8hB9iv3f-UJV9w_yOX23kMy6IthM6BR0QYk6M/s320/photo-9.JPG" width="270" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>I'm super proud to wear my homemade Ravenclaw shirt, and super bummed I couldn't find my lightning bolt earrings.</i></div><br />
As for the movie itself, I enjoyed it. Certainly it was better than the sixth movie (which David Yates murdered). The CGI and special effects were SPECTACULAR. Long ago I came to the decision to treat the movies as completely separate from the books, lest I become too obsessive about the discrepancies. I am a <b>superfan</b> of the Harry Potter books. I enjoy the movies as an extension of the books, but not as a replacement or an equivalent.<br />
<br />
Anyway, Harry Potter is always my grand send-off for a new school year. Really. I read the first three books, and moved to Texas. The fourth book in Summer 2000 sent me to 8th Grade. I moved to Kansas. The fifth book in Summer 2003 sent me to 11th grade. The sixth book in Summer 2005 moved me to California and sent me to college. The fifth movie and the end of the book series in Summer 2007 sent me to college for my junior year. I moved to Oklahoma. The sixth movie in Summer 2009 sent me to Alaska for the first time, and the eighth movie in Summer 2011 sent me to Alaska for the second time. <br />
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You see, Harry has been there for every life change. <br />
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And he always will be.<br />
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Because I am a nerd, and I'm finally old enough to embrace the nerdiness.<br />
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<i><br />
"Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?" ~J.K. Rowling, HP and the Deathly Hallows<br />
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</i>Megan Gundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282893316741375020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5294280022510294803.post-87736582739360413262011-07-05T21:29:00.002-08:002011-07-05T21:38:34.069-08:00Back to AlaskaYou can take the girl out of Alaska, but you can't take Alaska out of the girl.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvXwmIUMrPwFjgoj6v2jGDx-p7OT_kjKeWHRg9eQeXV5x_oemkOJIFoHVTcU3t60xC8jTjC4WS7_MvKqo4AqTy4WP_uGdv3rFaSrNDZOvs7AevCQTaFD_EwLguUCtSgK9ejf-fnLV-8f0/s1600/homesickAK.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvXwmIUMrPwFjgoj6v2jGDx-p7OT_kjKeWHRg9eQeXV5x_oemkOJIFoHVTcU3t60xC8jTjC4WS7_MvKqo4AqTy4WP_uGdv3rFaSrNDZOvs7AevCQTaFD_EwLguUCtSgK9ejf-fnLV-8f0/s320/homesickAK.jpg" /></a></div><br />
That was me this year in Oklahoma. I mean, it is really hot here so I do miss the cold and yes, sometimes I do stick my head in a freezer as a temporary remedy . . . but more than that, I just missed Alaska. So I'm going back.<br />
<br />
This year in Oklahoma wasn't a wasted year by any means, even if I did not often enjoy my job. I got to spend a year at home with my family and my dogs, and I got seven root canals (yes, SEVEN). Actually it's a good thing I came back because there is no way I could have done seven root canals while living in the bush.<br />
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Some of you know I got a job in Arkansas in a brand new school for the 2011-2012 school year. I also financed a new car, new furniture, and leased a new apartment super close to some of my best friends in the whole world. In short, I got every I thought I wanted. I was set to move July 8th.<br />
<br />
And then I realized I was underwhelmed by it all. Don't get me wrong; I would have had loads of fun with my Arkansas friends and I would have had a great church to join. <br />
<br />
However, I just kept thinking of all the things I wanted to do, all the places I wanted to go, and all the experiences I wanted to have. I was looking at Peace Corps blogs. I was mapping out plans to get back to road system Alaska once I got married (way ahead of myself there; I'm not even dating). I was researching teaching abroad. I was completely skipping the excitement of my new Lower 48 life.<br />
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Of course, how could I even afford all those things once I am finished with Arkansas? I can only afford to put away $150 a month in savings with Lower 48 teacher pay . . . that won't pay for any kind of domestic trip, much less international. Good grief, I could hardly justify going home to Oklahoma more than twice a semester with the tight budget I was looking at.<br />
<br />
Then, Alaska called. Figuratively AND literally. My friend Mary Ellen (a colleague I met and worked with in Gambell) called me and told me a position in Atqasuk was finally open, and I needed to fill it. It just so happened the principal was visiting her L48 home that very day. I interviewed on an impulse, and gave myself the night to sort it all out.<br />
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I made this lovely graphic organizer (sometimes I just can't turn the teacher off). I spent practically the whole night going back and forth, making myself crazy over the decision. How could I reverse the things I had done, and how could I turn down everything that I <i>should</i> want? People would think I am insane! (Maybe I am insane!)<br />
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Financially, it was a no-brainer. I would make close to $5000 a month in Alaska, with very few bills. I could save and save and save for student loan repayment, grad school, travel, a future house, whatever. Emotionally, it wasn't a bad decision. I am smarter and less naive this time around about bush life. Plus, I already know and <b>like</b> at least two of the teachers in Atqasuk (I taught with both in Gambell). <br />
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And yet, I worked hard to get that job. I just bought this car. I just leased an apartment. I just bought furniture for that awesome apartment. I just told everyone I'm going to Arkansas.<br />
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You can see my dilemma. <br />
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In the end, the siren song of Alaska was just too strong to ignore. And if I'm completely honest, the money was hard to turn down, too. I am in the process of undoing everything I did, though I will probably keep the car. I love it too much to sell, and anyway the insurance company would probably hunt me down if I sold it (since I crashed it a week after purchasing the policy . . . but that's another story). My dad will drive it and park it in the garage until I decide whether I will stay in Alaska for good or eventually come back and need an awesome car. The whole car thing was the worst timing ever, but then that's life I guess.<br />
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I'm not saying it will be easy this time around. It won't. It is still an isolated village in bush Alaska, and I still want to eventually live on the road system. But I'm going to work very hard to remain positive this time, and see the beauty in everything. I am going to refuse depression, and call family/friends more often. I am going to plan a little less, and live a little more. I'm going to love the tundra for what it is, and not hate it for what it is not. I will enjoy the experience to the fullest. I will.<br />
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I am also going to blog more frequently than I did in Gambell. I am still debating as to whether I will keep this blog public, or move it to a private status. I feel like I could write more honestly if it was private, but I do enjoy having a public blog that people around the world can learn from. I am undecided. Who knows, I may upkeep one of each like my friend in the Peace Corps.<br />
<br />
If it goes private, I will notify you all on Facebook. You can either FB message me, email me, or text me at that time.<br />
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I'll post more information on Atqasuk in the near future. Until then, here's a sneak peek at the village location.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg08kFJXJ2Tdkl3SEJJc-18zZlXoE5vY3QCvfaNeEf-dBI-Hrm8NgEIn0W6QhazbLe5N-0FFi1FzgOjQErI4T40gboXYHAqpsrldPQvIbqE-modR7DLqCnh3uhtKiWWLlLiXYyL3VPOXBg/s1600/AK_261874.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg08kFJXJ2Tdkl3SEJJc-18zZlXoE5vY3QCvfaNeEf-dBI-Hrm8NgEIn0W6QhazbLe5N-0FFi1FzgOjQErI4T40gboXYHAqpsrldPQvIbqE-modR7DLqCnh3uhtKiWWLlLiXYyL3VPOXBg/s320/AK_261874.gif" /></a></div><br />
Yes, it's very nearly as north as it gets in the US. I probably won't be sticking my head in any freezers to cool off.Megan Gundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282893316741375020noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5294280022510294803.post-91995481323850109502010-07-28T13:58:00.002-08:002010-07-28T14:10:18.121-08:00All Things Must Come to an EndSo by now, most of you know: I am not returning to Gambell. There were multiple factors that influenced this decision, but in the end it was not a healthy situation. I DO NOT REGRET going to bush Alaska; I learned so much about myself, the Arctic, and Native Alaskan Culture. I wouldn't trade the past year for anything. <br /><br />And yet, there comes a time when one must choose self-preservation over other alternatives. Being in nature is a deep part of me, a part that is unfulfilled in my current situation. I love the Sun, I love Light, I love trees, I love grass and solid ground beneath my feet, I love running outside with my dogs, and I don't mind the convenience of stores within 200 miles. I look forward to not living with my colleagues, to working in an organized and established school, and to having a hobby/life of my own again. <br /><br />I will miss Alaska terribly, especially Southern Alaska. I could live in the Alaskan mountains forever and be blissfully happy! I really do want to come back and find a forever home, but now is not the season. I need to get some experience down South, and I need to figure out my graduate school plans. I also need to figure out whether I can afford to stay in the profession (both financially and mentally).<br /><br />So this is a sign off . . . for now. As I join the Unemployed Teachers Club, I will only look back gratefully at the learning experience of a lifetime.Megan Gundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282893316741375020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5294280022510294803.post-11422829214120481662010-05-18T23:23:00.001-08:002010-05-19T15:21:26.449-08:00Our Next Door Neighbor, SiberiaAnother school day down, and we are that much closer to the end!<br /><br />On our walk home, we noticed that it was as clear as we've ever seen it in Siberia! The Russian mountains were gorgeous so we went down to the West Beach to take some pictures and gaze into tomorrow. Amanda stuck her hand in the Bering Sea, and then we called it good and went back inside. Lunch was terrible today at the school so we were anxious to find some edible food.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQm4y56idWSEx7SyfH_Oq7gIGyloVtkkiK5W5iGR9Bt1ReiY_4rE5VxfWH76yuH7T9Y6Uh22H9JzAuPfHkKVc2c7ntXtOT-v60vMy242ItGZRRaZw-3WZFH-Yd6AM2M-8C4Ygiq0q7LOI/s1600/P5180251.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQm4y56idWSEx7SyfH_Oq7gIGyloVtkkiK5W5iGR9Bt1ReiY_4rE5VxfWH76yuH7T9Y6Uh22H9JzAuPfHkKVc2c7ntXtOT-v60vMy242ItGZRRaZw-3WZFH-Yd6AM2M-8C4Ygiq0q7LOI/s320/P5180251.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473069207727001954"></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjshCnj6a_Ti6rHBF8IxizM8AzXwrphCbnFXsN_4vfGoNc8TPS-UYVFdOuh0efabJv0fNJy8MopL2G0phSVYjBeAh507VVt0nDRgpW9ncslsXqTkKJ12fxvE0tM3lh6KWJrj2x2XyGUUwI/s1600/P5180245.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjshCnj6a_Ti6rHBF8IxizM8AzXwrphCbnFXsN_4vfGoNc8TPS-UYVFdOuh0efabJv0fNJy8MopL2G0phSVYjBeAh507VVt0nDRgpW9ncslsXqTkKJ12fxvE0tM3lh6KWJrj2x2XyGUUwI/s320/P5180245.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473069196394732738"></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP5ok30VImYp2bAxCiBQszVEo0UJAw3Hf-6QDUlXvBnErX4NqK9lFrOwIv4lJ28eMLDKPoWmbbDPL0ZeJYlMsxwfJIZfY_BZNfWPxBehF7qfyX4k0bAEEUackw87fFi9E9qBNF5rvemP0/s1600/P5180249.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP5ok30VImYp2bAxCiBQszVEo0UJAw3Hf-6QDUlXvBnErX4NqK9lFrOwIv4lJ28eMLDKPoWmbbDPL0ZeJYlMsxwfJIZfY_BZNfWPxBehF7qfyX4k0bAEEUackw87fFi9E9qBNF5rvemP0/s320/P5180249.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473069182543489154"></a><br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dy4rZ8fIn9DswItkLUHtWZlqPW0nVFfBZCHQ1e2kkkqrxZhkCkhkFvC5BOQjo7ynUYqXP8xVsKn9a-FYMjQ2w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Megan Gundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282893316741375020noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5294280022510294803.post-54076622400891156812010-05-17T22:38:00.001-08:002010-05-19T10:18:12.822-08:00The North BeachI took the day off today! Teachers don’t get enough personal days during the year. I would trade some summer time for a few more days off during the year. We don’t even get federal holidays. <br /><br />Amanda and I went to the North Beach today. It was a gorgeous day! The sun was shining bright and hot . . . well, as hot as it gets in the Arctic May. It was a nice walk (extra nice because people were in school and I was not!). <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlcaFab53Zx2i3NEMyQiD77Ev2NjG8zuDluH7T-uGWJJ84uV7I03Te7EB3ggXN3NlFUrSxJCOhMWrCyZaYjrPpDok7msVdibnbwpiWLGfJFHBsMzvqG4o3jtJFITS7zqbtQA9yOvJK-tI/s1600/P5170220.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlcaFab53Zx2i3NEMyQiD77Ev2NjG8zuDluH7T-uGWJJ84uV7I03Te7EB3ggXN3NlFUrSxJCOhMWrCyZaYjrPpDok7msVdibnbwpiWLGfJFHBsMzvqG4o3jtJFITS7zqbtQA9yOvJK-tI/s320/P5170220.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473043390124798466" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEXyh3WZ4sTczh8DQRowzna1IzivzERmL9Y1dlf0fMlVXrRmkhZ6Nz6cZKMMBhGiykG28lTcfWr0PHIndtBtEVojybrLvu8KvIlQlUaLuvwjSWge2fySViLBCwfilcllAHEIfjqC6dzMU/s1600/P5170205.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEXyh3WZ4sTczh8DQRowzna1IzivzERmL9Y1dlf0fMlVXrRmkhZ6Nz6cZKMMBhGiykG28lTcfWr0PHIndtBtEVojybrLvu8KvIlQlUaLuvwjSWge2fySViLBCwfilcllAHEIfjqC6dzMU/s320/P5170205.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473043382586293106" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYEvrbM7uBWzdeTwgubgf122yB5-bgi-kkSTuxfh29TtRiLMjHmxEz4CRHhp491DQsyeUKqlttuWKj7ytr7HRU_uM-qIEAOZZ9LT78FvPYimmp8OA217CtDQmVzwmqGPYuHUV32MHG-hc/s1600/P5170203.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYEvrbM7uBWzdeTwgubgf122yB5-bgi-kkSTuxfh29TtRiLMjHmxEz4CRHhp491DQsyeUKqlttuWKj7ytr7HRU_uM-qIEAOZZ9LT78FvPYimmp8OA217CtDQmVzwmqGPYuHUV32MHG-hc/s320/P5170203.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473043370902160354" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_qmpCOA-eP9HBo8GMRxoPI1aDkm2XIVfHI2PVOKnDr8sdd1UtgnHKRhk8wsx_Ymfv6Tk6g_H6HE4uDGpnk13O3EE2nSZiEQPbLECTd9m_3Yps09QdCi07XZms2-g8GsQWKZLEEpulqsQ/s1600/P5170198.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_qmpCOA-eP9HBo8GMRxoPI1aDkm2XIVfHI2PVOKnDr8sdd1UtgnHKRhk8wsx_Ymfv6Tk6g_H6HE4uDGpnk13O3EE2nSZiEQPbLECTd9m_3Yps09QdCi07XZms2-g8GsQWKZLEEpulqsQ/s320/P5170198.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473043359657976834" /></a><br /><br /> It’s funny to watch Amanda as she does things here for the first time, and remember back to my first time in August. The walk to North Beach in 30 degree weather seems like a tropical stroll . . . we weren’t even halfway there and she was asking why we weren’t at the beach yet. ☺ I remember my first solo walk to North Beach; I thought I would never get there! I felt like I would never get to where I was going, and then a few weeks later all the snow dumped and it fell 80 below freezing . . . and my sense of perspective was widened. Now that it’s not an epic battle through the snow and ice, everything seems so much easier!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrZqknBe_pWWSmG3LaNHJIwdzDR954QSRsX0sVT5KJfmHF1_j10V80lwy9qyQiYG3f9aHd0kPJcYqgud0LeLlW1ZanvUv7lyWFabELwojZhcH__mQP4c2pv9Yu-PJlCpndHV0uOgvnYtY/s1600/P5170183.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrZqknBe_pWWSmG3LaNHJIwdzDR954QSRsX0sVT5KJfmHF1_j10V80lwy9qyQiYG3f9aHd0kPJcYqgud0LeLlW1ZanvUv7lyWFabELwojZhcH__mQP4c2pv9Yu-PJlCpndHV0uOgvnYtY/s320/P5170183.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473046970743048962" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHIOKuBW0hmGUQjZUKyEaxFV_0CGz5IEboVdqtFfoGnTkqtKLmx8a4RrJ2ZA84_IoaCY9HBy7treXvzg88ilBTIQflKi0VeXGu5sE8WJwXgOhg0Ygh9ty-m587JCcddqYDnLS3ZJAs2j8/s1600/P5170232.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHIOKuBW0hmGUQjZUKyEaxFV_0CGz5IEboVdqtFfoGnTkqtKLmx8a4RrJ2ZA84_IoaCY9HBy7treXvzg88ilBTIQflKi0VeXGu5sE8WJwXgOhg0Ygh9ty-m587JCcddqYDnLS3ZJAs2j8/s320/P5170232.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473046956975680674" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGvGi7WzhADI5Ijli3tVcZrWYD5D7WibWd-awkzBFjCwK-llJtDG8t2kqN9PuScwDSGPbNYfxnJ6NODVDlbOu6lfjcRiEH1ZEL-zSIP7t5omKmKUE3JPmKJpAbaRgvYN7o_Bc-EcS62CI/s1600/P5170230.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGvGi7WzhADI5Ijli3tVcZrWYD5D7WibWd-awkzBFjCwK-llJtDG8t2kqN9PuScwDSGPbNYfxnJ6NODVDlbOu6lfjcRiEH1ZEL-zSIP7t5omKmKUE3JPmKJpAbaRgvYN7o_Bc-EcS62CI/s320/P5170230.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473046947314517634" /></a><br /><br />We also popped into the blue store today since we were in the area and it was open . . . a rare alignment of the planets must be responsible. She spent some time gasping at the prices that seem normal to me now . . . $10 pickle jars, $30 Tide detergent, and the like. I spent some time thinking how my grocery bill will vastly diminish very soon. Either that, or it will skyrocket because I will think I can afford everything in sight.Megan Gundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282893316741375020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5294280022510294803.post-74534142397186370922010-05-15T22:36:00.001-08:002010-05-19T09:24:00.214-08:00Arctic Bocce BallI was planning on going to school today, but the weather was near white-out conditions and I decided it could wait until tomorrow. No sense in walking a mile out there when I don’t have to!<br /><br />On the other hand, Amanda should get the full Gambell experience. It seems like FATE that a random Spring whiteout should occur mere days after she arrives! We walked to the West Beach (luckily I have the way memorized, because I couldn’t see a thing without the goggles Amanda was wearing) and then walked back . . . and that was more than enough for Amanda! ☺ <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk12kxW1ws4MRa_78HGEcCmvTus1sC0oTA0tWHygdylSkz-KgsL_KkkmWehnvizU92wa8XlhX4XZSz7tANJCmYUH8BN9EcxGXVN8TUNCWpWj3Bs85tpnIGOWKsveAVlbbnZnu5bkOJFzM/s1600/P5150169.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk12kxW1ws4MRa_78HGEcCmvTus1sC0oTA0tWHygdylSkz-KgsL_KkkmWehnvizU92wa8XlhX4XZSz7tANJCmYUH8BN9EcxGXVN8TUNCWpWj3Bs85tpnIGOWKsveAVlbbnZnu5bkOJFzM/s320/P5150169.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473030034859326834" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBgVkhyphenhyphennwBwHrbrOoXdTYigAyUeiPnTXOCiUpYYzEIXepF06UfTXs9700PkrwejDS8QgDe0EihEGN05s5o-rvBbtTHQ0QfE_1eCGGqdypGIdreeFhh0-VnD3FLEjVAeOtK0kkAc9D1MRw/s1600/P5150164.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBgVkhyphenhyphennwBwHrbrOoXdTYigAyUeiPnTXOCiUpYYzEIXepF06UfTXs9700PkrwejDS8QgDe0EihEGN05s5o-rvBbtTHQ0QfE_1eCGGqdypGIdreeFhh0-VnD3FLEjVAeOtK0kkAc9D1MRw/s320/P5150164.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473030019637921154" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixy8yIF2okqd7r-sxNAK9m-633lxqe5qIDBc895G5lsJNTilyaf5TrLpSJ5JK7ZIt6_tI4fV_5YsinWJb0812B2ugss9LKNTBtmwazZjgeydFXwy9iUDpX0EaJzVkftDjNrKmqT-6hgt8/s1600/P5150165.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixy8yIF2okqd7r-sxNAK9m-633lxqe5qIDBc895G5lsJNTilyaf5TrLpSJ5JK7ZIt6_tI4fV_5YsinWJb0812B2ugss9LKNTBtmwazZjgeydFXwy9iUDpX0EaJzVkftDjNrKmqT-6hgt8/s320/P5150165.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473030008739961938" /></a><br /><br /> It was ferociously beautiful out there . . . it was the Deadliest Catch Winter Bering Sea at its worst, a kind of raw and wild magnificence that cannot be tamed. As much as I am ready to leave Gambell, I will not forget the land nor the sea. It etches into your soul no matter how thick a shield you erect.<br /><br />I could tell Amanda was getting bored as only you can get bored in the Arctic, so I suggested a game of Arctic Bocce Ball. Same game we all know and love, just in the Arctic. This was a special edition actually, because it was a blizzard out there! We used a blue hackey sack instead of the white ping-pong marker (since it would have gotten lost in the snow during the first round). <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVsuKw9owX7W9oaATCV4o1SekoPeMgfcJB4sJAhWqUOeQ2yyyxex2yKt29shH2xUyz4FaLVO80qLphU62JBnYP5xu_Kkii1n4E4HFNdfqWbZPndzfngs_TFKDOCgWhg25cf6vDTMsbcN8/s1600/P5150178.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVsuKw9owX7W9oaATCV4o1SekoPeMgfcJB4sJAhWqUOeQ2yyyxex2yKt29shH2xUyz4FaLVO80qLphU62JBnYP5xu_Kkii1n4E4HFNdfqWbZPndzfngs_TFKDOCgWhg25cf6vDTMsbcN8/s320/P5150178.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473032656719905010" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirkFIM60rF1whUKKT2auffNeanyNcLY3eUcoZCZTP30KlkHx1mBGuciq1hFVRXHYbPYjAio-Z02Mt-ZPsz8iKmFG6tfgoJjbD0F_mPtpTfa22Kwd356oJKFJyBdEJN6knT5AckLGijbo8/s1600/P5150175.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirkFIM60rF1whUKKT2auffNeanyNcLY3eUcoZCZTP30KlkHx1mBGuciq1hFVRXHYbPYjAio-Z02Mt-ZPsz8iKmFG6tfgoJjbD0F_mPtpTfa22Kwd356oJKFJyBdEJN6knT5AckLGijbo8/s320/P5150175.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473032647002329378" /></a><br /><br />PS Happy Birthday Mom!Megan Gundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282893316741375020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5294280022510294803.post-35431480483049230992010-05-14T20:35:00.001-08:002010-05-19T10:28:04.853-08:00I Can Yupik Dance GoodlyI suited up Amanda today in all my winter gear. The weather really wasn’t that bad at all this morning, but I have no way of knowing how cold she really is. I don’t feel the cold as much anymore and it is hard for me to remember what it’s like. Especially since she just left some ridiculous temperature like 90 degrees F. Yes, that’s above freezing. I haven’t seen temperatures above freezing in about 9 months. Honestly, 20 deg feels balmy.<br /><br />There is so much that I don’t notice about this place, so much that I take for granted and overlook. Village English is just one of those elephants that sit in the room making quiet trouble throughout the day . . . I’ve long since stopped being surprised at their peculiar grammar and unique phrases. I should include a sample conversation someday so you can see what I mean about the grammar; it’s hard to describe.<br /><br />Today was Friday so we had our last Yupik dance of the year. I danced most every dance Compliments were related to me afterwards . . . for some UNKNOWN reason, they REALLY like the way I dance here! Apparently, I have a natural talent for Yupik Dancing. That’s sure to come in handy someday. ;-) Amanda participated in the dancing and had fun, though I am not sure if she has the Yupik Dancing gene. Perhaps it just hasn’t been expressed yet. Anyway, my class gave her a Yupik name. They call her (in English) Sandhill Crane. She has long legs compared to the Yupik people, you see. Allen’s rule stands the test of time and space.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE7DHf-mc3Eu8Q3RRlKPknAFDrEx8xv9PuzTfmLCzmXzcx2B80xqtvAFyHtk1Yoe9kDzXNLN7-OEQ3Q8kdie7c3z6kwHTqOiZJ3Cd2GwfDULl0ETrdNwKt8_Q8XRrQX8Jp81Olf-C5j1g/s1600/P5140161.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE7DHf-mc3Eu8Q3RRlKPknAFDrEx8xv9PuzTfmLCzmXzcx2B80xqtvAFyHtk1Yoe9kDzXNLN7-OEQ3Q8kdie7c3z6kwHTqOiZJ3Cd2GwfDULl0ETrdNwKt8_Q8XRrQX8Jp81Olf-C5j1g/s320/P5140161.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473049444080478690" /></a><br /><br />(Amanda is the tall one in the back, lol)Megan Gundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282893316741375020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5294280022510294803.post-79391519953260206992010-05-13T22:33:00.000-08:002010-05-18T22:35:09.054-08:00Roast Whale is Hard to CookAmanda is here! Her plane came in earlier than expected. I was just about to suit up when I heard it fly in over the village. I ran out of the apartment half dressed just in time to see her standing all alone with her rolling luggage and city hat by the airport hanger (which she calls a shed). I gave her a better hat, put her suitcase on the sled, and led her back through the walrus boneyards to Teacher Housing.<br /><br />She looks very tired. ☺ I’ve taken that long trip a few times, so I imagine she is more tired than she is letting on. I suppose I will have to cook her a real laluramka dinner instead of whale. Especially since I burnt the whale roast I was cooking.Megan Gundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282893316741375020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5294280022510294803.post-48461319987410667612010-05-12T23:03:00.002-08:002010-05-18T23:04:58.856-08:00The December CountryIn Alaska, everything is beautifully backwards. One expects water to ripple and wave as the wind tosses it back and forth. Yet, in wintered Alaska the sea sits still and mute while the sky swirls and sings in alien colors. The line between land, sea, and sky is fogged beyond that which can be discerned by human eye or intelligence. Blue ice is inverted upon opaque skies. Ivory islands float haphazardly between sheets of white pastels that have been smudged and shaded beyond recognition. Time is kept not by the everlasting darkness nor the shackled sun, but by the rhythms deep within our beating hearts. <br /><br />It is every place that is familiar, it is every place that is foreign. It is the wild light we have always longed after, it is the wild darkness that has always frightened us. It is the time of our first awakening, it is the time of our first slumber. <br /><br />In shock we have discovered that our beauteous land is deplorably fierce and feral.<br />That which should infuse our hearts with awe instead fills us with terrible desperation. <br /><br />Somehow the land that first demanded our love thus turned to break our spirit. The quiet isolation we once worshiped faded into an unfathomable desolation as the winter fell around us, and even still we wonder how such a thing can be. It seems there are things in this world which are meant to be only temporal; short seasons of inexplicable impossibilities. We can never truly belong here for this place was not shaped for us. <br /><br />And so we learn that creatures of the Light should not live within the interminable Dark. Though a vast prison of ice threatens to keep us perpetually bound, it is strictly the memory of Light which pulls us through the December country.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">*published in The Mensokie, June 2010 Edition (Central Oklahoma Mensa)</span>Megan Gundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282893316741375020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5294280022510294803.post-50717654410539810572010-04-04T23:26:00.002-08:002010-05-19T14:49:55.605-08:00An Easter Whale of a TaleThe village got the first bowhead whale of the season today! They were the first out of the whole state, so they are way excited. I am excited too, as this means there is no school tomorrow. It was a small female bowhead that was only about 25 feet long. They finally pulled in onshore about 11:00 pm (just as the sun was setting), and spent the rest of the night butchering it. They had a terrible time getting it out of the water, even though they had huge construction equipment to help them. Rushing does not work well when dealing with multi-ton whales. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZl1p0rCQ8u1K65-A1VU__SNuPphpsvugi2eBaLovrIfLXbiQ-NNdEOvu964cV30b9xFnkYfRzubLQ9Xas97mm-yc6sRvlgNeA8Uri6vAF7CXvRTTX-8CBtl0MxWfaiJ7nF6c1r1iSKOk/s1600/P5020204.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZl1p0rCQ8u1K65-A1VU__SNuPphpsvugi2eBaLovrIfLXbiQ-NNdEOvu964cV30b9xFnkYfRzubLQ9Xas97mm-yc6sRvlgNeA8Uri6vAF7CXvRTTX-8CBtl0MxWfaiJ7nF6c1r1iSKOk/s320/P5020204.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473056035598460754" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvCdtlZTXcA6XU2v-ANzA5g7u73L9vQYDq5WhUllim42-cJHGeppfHH-Fo9s0FmBr7FqZ6FClFVnGbWy_EyiuV-gVx4ziIwCvlYPdF2ahmgSgf8rOeinihXkh59j8vqhSC_aZvYyQgHx4/s1600/P5020214.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvCdtlZTXcA6XU2v-ANzA5g7u73L9vQYDq5WhUllim42-cJHGeppfHH-Fo9s0FmBr7FqZ6FClFVnGbWy_EyiuV-gVx4ziIwCvlYPdF2ahmgSgf8rOeinihXkh59j8vqhSC_aZvYyQgHx4/s320/P5020214.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473056029049307234" /></a><br /><br />Once it was finally out of the water, we all stood close and took pictures with it. The skin was much more spongy and forgiving than I expected it to be. All this time I thought whale skin was more plastic and rigid.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-iThZMdKrv2hkzpIhmMgqDPZTOvXAaWmN0Zj4JIlt5hFFMncpLFpJnuk89oKRYm0arBeb4p1ZfEnKj7_ELrzhnrEiIJ8Kzh7vG9-V06I6I-ax7wSaPSW_ERkUKNlkXn8NIsiHOdDEUO0/s1600/P5020232.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 287px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-iThZMdKrv2hkzpIhmMgqDPZTOvXAaWmN0Zj4JIlt5hFFMncpLFpJnuk89oKRYm0arBeb4p1ZfEnKj7_ELrzhnrEiIJ8Kzh7vG9-V06I6I-ax7wSaPSW_ERkUKNlkXn8NIsiHOdDEUO0/s320/P5020232.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473057813852852754" /></a><br /><br />The whaling crew butchered the whale and doled out the cuts according to crew and clan rank. We were given a piece of whale meat at the end (they prefer the blubber). Ashley and I cooked it up like a steak . . . and it was just as good if not better than any steak I have ever eaten! It was very rich and tender. I would eat it again, most definitely.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo1zWn1eVyVjO7qCH4d7f8zdwv_o8qIyhBT1_2N9XSpPkchw6vZU40nbJc_GCkr7kNCu2TcuadLl4z6Ya7oQYGPZdeOxTTeghpIxsnm4vq1VtwOQCKjp9jFZH3W__cmCspzl1HczyDKb8/s1600/P5030174.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo1zWn1eVyVjO7qCH4d7f8zdwv_o8qIyhBT1_2N9XSpPkchw6vZU40nbJc_GCkr7kNCu2TcuadLl4z6Ya7oQYGPZdeOxTTeghpIxsnm4vq1VtwOQCKjp9jFZH3W__cmCspzl1HczyDKb8/s320/P5030174.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473116917507178802" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIZN8-YYPBN9FqMj4s-VDdEacgYmFeadT1SSZON4QvIWZ-Cn41sJb2k4dAf9S0wA6k5ZP9eXpb1cZiplJG6ibOyGDxGP1wkuI3SlcoK98UFqarILYW05bZXMpNg8jo_Dsp0ewM1RUoZWs/s1600/P5030170.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIZN8-YYPBN9FqMj4s-VDdEacgYmFeadT1SSZON4QvIWZ-Cn41sJb2k4dAf9S0wA6k5ZP9eXpb1cZiplJG6ibOyGDxGP1wkuI3SlcoK98UFqarILYW05bZXMpNg8jo_Dsp0ewM1RUoZWs/s320/P5030170.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473116910484645074" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6ymYy6efcDG5OkRZuKg4AX0n74B1fz4zDq0Hsd29Ozgu3CkKJWR2V3jKpwNBfeqwfl1aSIQ4WOKFiG_9Y5R_l3AQhm50clJbrlJpyOIFuRJjV5vBjYJXBrACIwVbmpCHn6hCcN0P-3PI/s1600/P5030143.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6ymYy6efcDG5OkRZuKg4AX0n74B1fz4zDq0Hsd29Ozgu3CkKJWR2V3jKpwNBfeqwfl1aSIQ4WOKFiG_9Y5R_l3AQhm50clJbrlJpyOIFuRJjV5vBjYJXBrACIwVbmpCHn6hCcN0P-3PI/s320/P5030143.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473059519937799762" /></a><br /><br /><br />PS Happy Easter!Megan Gundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13282893316741375020noreply@blogger.com0