Juneau in June : Friends are like Bags of Lindor Truffles

The third and last edition of my trip to Juneau was my last full day there.* It was a day of firsts for me. Welllll, technically my whole trip was one big first since I had never been to Alaska before. But I decided to go zip lining on the morning of my last day. It was amazing, to put it super plainly. Some things speak better for themselves when you’re accustomed to living life from exclamation to exclamation:

 

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Someone asked me if I made any friends on this trip. First of all, lol, because I was only there for three days (and contrary to popular belief, I don’t view most first encounters as the starts of beautiful, lifelong friendships). But, I did tell this person that I both did and did not make friends. I will explain-

My favourite part of travelling alone is how much it pushes you out of yourself and forces you to experience things. You cannot go to a place you have never been to before, sit down in your hotel room, and scroll through Instagram. This is not to say that scrolling through social media in any way diminishes the authenticity of your experiences (solitary traveller, not hermit). But, you find that you want to be fully present and in each moment whilst you are on your own. At least, I find that to be my case. No matter how good of a photographer I become or how many absolutely stunning shots I capture, they will never be as good as the images that I store in my mind’s eye because those will be always be filtered by emotion. So for me, when I travel alone and am not caught up in myself, this remarkable thing happens-

I meet people.

I mean, I hold conversations with strangers and share stories and experiences with them. I learn about their lives – as much as they are willing to share- and they learn infinitesimally about mine. And for however long that encounter lasts, I make a friend. I made friends with my hotel lobbyist and the woman I hiked down Mount Roberts with. I even made friends  on my wild wild zip lining adventure and at the salmon bake, where I concluded my Alaskan experience. When I left Juneau, these people did not leave with me and I do not remember a single name. I do not think I will ever encounter them again nor do I particularly wish to, so we are not friends. But they were all my “friends” for a few hours and they all contributed to my amazing experience. Andddd on that note, here’s a picture of me gliding from tree to tree:

 

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Oh, and here’s a picture of a squirrel peeking out from under the table because who doesn’t love squirrels, amirite?
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* – Notice how I started with no apologies for my serious writing procrastination? Yea, me too.

Travel

Juneau in June : Bear Country or God’s Country?

I’m going to try pretending I didn’t go to Juneau last weekend. That I, in fact, am currently there and dutifully blogging at the end of each day like I said to myself that I would. But, of course, I’ve never been excellent at pretending… or not procrastinating so, I will own up to my one week of tardiness and hope my memory can still do the right kind of justice to what was definitely an experience. I will try and break up this post into two so neither are too long. I would prefer the pictures to speak for themselves, barring a few anecdotes. That being said, this is still going to be a really long post. So, I’m sorry and good luck.

Before I jump in, let’s note that I spend a great deal of my life doing a few uncomfortable comfortable things. We all do them, I’m sure most people like me are bugged by them, but we STILL do them. You know, like when we laugh at something we didn’t hear someone say in conversation but we can’t ask them to repeat for whatever reason? Or when we leave someone to have the wrong assumption about something we said or did because it’s not worth the correction and we just hope the point will never come up again? I call those things uncomfortable comfortable things. Because typically, we just can’t be too bothered.

In my case though, I do other things like always offer my own experiences when someone tells me theirs (if there’s a similarity, or the complete opposite). Not to belittle the significance or insignificance of what I’m being told (which it is often mistaken for), but to show that there is empathy or understanding; that there is solidarity in the sharing of the experience. But if you are like me, you do that enough and you begin to feel like you need to take a step back, remember what it feels like to not identify with someone or an experience. Sometimes, I forget that I want to walk into a situation like I don’t know a damned thing.

Why?

Because, if not, I get so accustomed to trying to identify/compare anecdotes or experiences to ones in my archives, that I stop creating new ones. I no longer have the blank slate necessary for completely new experiences and perspectives that are not like ones I already have. In other words, and to paraphrase my mother, I need to stop acting like I have all the damn answers.

And that’s why trips like Juneau are always necessary for  people like me – Trips to unpopular* destinations taken alone with adventure and discovery being the main motives. Words like adventure and discovery always insinuate novelty anyway and novelty is required to learn. So, I needed this journey to Alaska. And, as soon as my plane started taxiing for take-off, I realised that I needed it more than I thought.

In honour of how many things I didn’t know before embarking on this trip, here are some fun (not so fun) facts about Juneau, Alaska that I learned along the way courtesy of my formal and informal guides:

– Juneau is the capital of Alaska. (You thought it was Anchorage, didn’t you? Didn’t you? Don’t lie)

– About 33 000 people are actual residents of Juneau, making it the second largest city in Alaska.

– Juneau is home to about 600 bald eagles. They’re literally everywhere like pigeons are to Chicago or NY. Okay, I exaggerate a little but they’re seriously everywhere.

– We plebeians, that do not make Alaska our permanent abodes, live in the ‘lower 48’.

– Admiralty island, 6 miles from Juneau, has the highest population of brown bears in Northern America.

– That doesn’t mean they are lacking in any other species of bear over there. I was reminded often that I was in ‘bear country’.

– There are 17 million acres of forest around Juneau

– It rains too much in Juneau. Like I could tell you they had 100 inches of precipitation each year but that doesn’t mean much to you, does it? So translation – it’s a freaking lot. But it did not rain ONCE in my three days there. Can you say miracle?

Last, but certainly the highlight of my facts:

– There is a block in downtown Juneau that has an elementary school with a middle school right beside it. Beside that is the high school. Across from the high school is a polytechnic where you learn boat maintenance and repair. Beside that polytechnic is a boat wharf where boats with issues are fixed. Behind the elementary school on the other side of the block is the retirement home, and down the street from that is the cemetery. They call that beautiful arrangement in Juneau the circle of life.

Okay, it’s over. I’m going to jump into pictures now! And as you look at these pictures, think on this – One of my tour drivers asked (in pretty standard fashion) if anyone going rafting had ever been to Alaska before. Only a couple people had so he asked why they kept coming back and a lady pipes up from the back of the school bus saying, ” Because this is God’s country.” She was probably referring to the beauty and how nature still leaves so beautifully with humanity. And it’s the truest thing I heard my entire trip. So enjoy God’s country 🙂

 

-The view from my hotel window – Downtown Juneau

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– The view of Mount Roberts from Downtown Juneau

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– Downtown Juneau looking down towards the coast and Mount Roberts tramway

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– A bald eagle chilling on a street light post

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– The Mendenhall glacier from lake Mendenhall

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– Hi! It’s me!

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– And again

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– “Crazee the clown”

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– Just a cool picture. And clouds. OMG clouds.

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– No phones, no cameras, no children, no drunks. LOL

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– Because mountains and clouds everywhere. Seriously, clouds

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– Mandatory selfie with a pinch of a view 🙂

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– Some cool graffitti

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– The best restaurant in downtown Juneau – Tracy’s King Crab Shack

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– My shrimp sauce ( seriously the best and freshest shrimp), king crab bisque, ginger ale and light reading

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– The view of Juneau from the Mount Roberts tram

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– And again

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– And yet again

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– Lady Baltimore – a half-crippled, half-blind bald eagle close to Mount Robert’s summit

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– So many cautionary signs

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– I did say I was in Bear Country

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– At the summit of Mount Roberts

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– The trail from the summit of Mount Roberts

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* – Places to which people in my regular circles do not visit and do not plan to visit for a plethora of reasons.

Travel

Juneau in June: The Juneau June bug

For the next few days, I’m going to be playing this new game I invented called the, “Imagine you’re in a different place living a momentarily different life” game. Yes, yes, I am definitely not the first or one billionth person to wish for some variation of this but it should be a blast nonetheless. My first order of business? I’m going to imagine I’m going to Alaska. Yep, it’s going to be a Juneau in June kind of adventure!

Let’s imagine I have this amazing trip planned, every detail of the itinerary booked down to a T. Then, the night before my ultimate solo adventure, I get the worst stomach cramps ever. I’m talking roll around, sleep for 30 minute intervals, TMI the next morning (or in this post – uh oh) kind of stomach cramps. But before that night of horrors begins, I come home from work to NO INTERNET OR TV. Why? Because my service has been disconnected. Why?

Why do you think?

I forgot to pay the bloody bill and adult right. But this adulting business is tough work. It’s not a roller coaster, I promise. More like a six flags drop ride – super fast, no prep, and with the worst/best feelings of weightlessness and imbalance. Except with adulting, those feelings don’t go away after you walk it off for 5 minutes.

Anyway, so here I am on the worst evening of life contemplating (of course) if these are supposed to be omens of some sort. Should I not go on this trip? Is superstition even a thing? Where did I hide my pepto bismol? etc etc. Of course I decide I’m going anyway! What kind of imagination would I have if I didn’t even make it to my destination?! So obviously, we’ll have to follow my journey to Juneau (I love me my alliteration, obvs) tomorrow.

A bientot.

Travel

Violence I

Violence is never the answer. But only because the question is never systemic oppression: the question is never the demonstration of a subconsciously deep-rooted entitlement based on decades of trampling on others’ limitations. Violence is never the answer because violence should never be the question.

Just imagine for a second that love was always the question instead. Think of all that tolerance, carefully dealt with frustration, easy communication and endless understanding that would be the response  in that beautiful utopia.

Then think about violence again and what a terribly terribly rude question it is…

Inspiration

Out of Reach

There are mangoes in my backyard

Drooping down from the mango trees

If I reach out of my window, my fingers

Brush against the leaves. I can smell their

Sweet fragrance so heavy on my nose that

A taste would surely put

An end

To all my nerve-ending woes

I was given mint tea with honey and a single

Slice of bread. Its to satisfy my hunger and

My thirst while I corrode in bed. I dunk the

Bread in my sweet tea but it is wafer thin and

Breaks. The part that doesn’t make it to my

Mouth, I guess the floor can take. I pretend

The sliver in my mouth was a ripe yellow

And luscious green. But I still can’t taste what I really want

(Since this act does not have that scene).

One day I’ll find the courage to reach just a little

More. But I’m terrified that in that moment

She’ll walk right through my doors. And oh,

Isn’t she so privileged. She can do just as she

Please. If I could walk on my two mangled feet, I would

not be grazing leaves. All I want is one mango

I would be satisfied with one. But

Don’t touch is what She

Said. And last commands can’t be undone.

Prose et Poesie

M.I.S.S.Y.(ou)

One blow… One pronounced skip of the calming rhythm of my heart’s steady pace. That was my initial reaction to the news. One blow that plunged me first into shock then into hyper reaction then into the stark flow of silent tears then back into shock. One blow was the only punctuation I felt in the next 20 minutes of an unending sentence that I endured before I felt myself truly breathing again. Just that one blow. Only one…

Missy came into my life when I was 10/11. The years are blurry at this point. But I remember that she came when the office was still on Awolowo road, super close to Munchies. Super close to Bacchus as well (but I wasn’t aware of the latter till much later in my adolescence). And her name was as spontaneous and attitude driven as the person she was named after at a whim – Missy Elliott.

She was the perfect character from day one. And with the trepidation of the young who love all furry four- legged friends but who are also smart enough to have a certain regard for  life and self preservation, I played with her coyly at first; quickly nervous if she got irritated or overly excited with me. Eventually, and not after very long, I decided I loved her. Like you know the kind of love you have for something or someone that never fully leaves your thoughts? That importance of their wellbeing? That happiness in the reunion? I loved her.

It has always been clear how incredibly blessed I was to know Missy. How blessed I still am to have known her. It’s not common in Nigeria to have dogs as pets. This is not to say that people do not have dogs or that people have a shortage of love for these adorably loyal creatures. But what tends to happen is that a lot of people who love dogs in Nigeria do not have the means or the motivations to own dogs, and those who do tend to own them as guard dogs. It would seem of little consequence – these shifts in role title- but the only people with enough patience or time to love these guard dogs are usually those responsible for putting food and water in theirs kennels and releasing them at night. These people are also not usually their owners and more often than not, give abuse instead of love. But I, to my greatest advantage, grew up around dogs who were genuinely loved for their quirks and definitely not treated like “animals”. I was blessed in this way and was blessed to experience the best of Missy in this vein.

As an aside, I will say that the expression “being treated like animals” never sat well with me. Animals should be treated kindly and lovingly across the board, with pretty much the same courtesy we would give to complete strangers at the very least. Even in cases where we eat animals, their method of execution should be merciful and their grooming for this execution, humane. In other words, in an ideal world, that expression wouldn’t mean the things it does now. But back to Missy…

This post was really to acknowledge the life of an amazing dog. A dog that acted a good deal like a cat. One that added a lot of laughter and attitude to my life; a dog who had such emotion that sometimes I swear she could talk. And I think that single immense blow, the one that stopped everything for one second was my heart’s way of affirming what I already knew: that she will be missed tremendously.

RIP Missy

2003-2015

 

Journaling

Love II

“She did not blame him: She blamed life. But he was an implacable protagonist in that life. At the mere hint of a doubt, he would push aside his plate and say: “This meal has been prepared without love.” In that sphere he would achieve moments of fantastic inspiration. Once he tasted some chamomile tea and sent it back, saying only: ” This stuff tastes of window.” Both she and the servants were surprised because they had never heard of anyone who had drunk boiled window, but when they tried the tea in an effort to understand: it did taste of window”

– Love In The Time of Cholera

Inspiration

March 15th

8:02AM

Sun- Too much sun. But that’s only my opinion from behind the safety of my glass sliding door. My iPhone says it’s 36 degrees on the other side of  the transparent barrier boxing me in my warm 620 sq foot cocoon so definitely not appropriate weather for the blue bum shorts and orange cami I have on. I wage a little war in my head between closing the blinds that are casting black and yellow ochre stripes down my slender frame or leaving them open so my whole parlour looks ready for the early stages of a Hitchcock movie. The sunshine wins… Obviously. I don’t even know why I bother with this ritual every Saturday. I adore the light once my eyes adjust and it stops blinding me. Besides, Saturday’s are the only days of the week that I get to fully bask in the sun’s humbling ambiance. “Humbling ambiance” – hmm, I like that phrase…

I spend my whole life with words and phrases. I work a 6-7 job that keeps me on my butt in a dingy room pre-editing  articles for the biggest daily self-help editorial east of Wyoming. And west of Iowa. Okay, okay, it’s the biggest editorial in Nebraska. But, when I talk to people about my job, I usually leave out the west of Iowa part. I also stop at the “daily”, since saying more usually loses me “cool” points. The fewer specifics, the better. Anything to give my self confidence a boost since I have no real friends for a 400 mile radius and I have had no real life in a two-year span. This lovely Saturday though, none of that matters. It’s a beautiful day outside AND I’m going skiing. I am also fully aware that I live in Nebraska without a plateau in sight. But I’m making the solitary drive down  to Jackson, Wyoming. I’ll drive down, glide on some of that beautiful pow, spend the night in a not-so-reliable temporary establishment, catch a morning run or five, then head back home in the afternoon. I’m completely stoked. It’s been a minute since I did anything outdoors. Even longer since I took a solitary road trip. I can feel the greatness of this weekend in my bones! Or is that the crack in my sliding door sending shivers up my spine?

***

12:38PM

The drive up is going okay so far. I just hit Wyoming, its a little past noon, the windows are down, and… a bug definitely just flew unto my dashboard. Whyyyy? I start frantically swatting at it with Khloe Kardashian’s boobs, which are plastered on last month’s issue of Cosmo. Two minutes ago, I had HAIM crooning from the stereo and I felt like I was in a movie about my life (picture “Thelma and Louis, but solo). Ugh, I hate bugs. Plus, this fairytale solo trip is about to go sour faster than milk left out in the sun if I run out of my water crackers nearly four hours away from my destination. Crap, there’s only four left in the box and I definitely left the other box on the kitchen counter. Perfect.  Now all I need is an engine stall or a repeat performance of my food poisoning debacle from yesterday and then I can write this off as the worst day ever. I’m beginning to feel like I should probably have waited till next weekend to go skiing but that feeling is a bit late to the party. Roughly 200 miles to go but for the life of me, I cant remember now why I decided against a trip to Colorado instead…

4:30PM

I made it to Jackson! I’m not even stopping at the hotel first. I’m just going to drive straight to the resort and catch as many runs as possible before I pass out on a bed tonight. The parking lot at the base of the slopes is suffering a bit of human scarcity but I jump out to put on my ski gear, anyway. The fewer the people, the fresher the pow… Holy Mother of God! It’s definitely way colder than my iPhone said it was going to be when I checked the temperature yesterday. What is happening here?! That gust of wind nearly pinched the half of my nose with my nose ring in it clean off. Anyway, I’m here now and half way into my ski boots. I can’t possibly turn back around like a complete wimp. Besides once I’m fully decked out, the cold won’t matter. I buy my half day’s pass from a surly brunette called Carly and catch the chair lift up. Now this is what I’m talking about! This view is e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g, but it doesn’t look like there’s been a snowfall in at least a couple of weeks. Maybe I’ll only do three runs instead of seven and call it an early night.

4:53PM

Okay, that first run was a bit choppy but that’s why I’ve got sloppy seconds! And if the second time is rough, well, that’s why the saying says the third time’s the charm. My lift descent this time is flawless and ooooh, I’m gathering some steam. Okay, this sloppy second isn’t so sloppy after all. Wait, is that a patch of ice ahead that I see? Better dodge th… Shit.

4:55PM

All the wind was definitely knocked out of my brain. It literally took a full minute for it to reboot and process. I guess my ribs feel like these mountains just used them as punching bags as well. But I seem fine otherwise. Nothing broken or twisted as I twist around to check my derriere. I’m only a little soaked and embarrassed, thank heavens. I don’t even want to think about how bad that could have been.

4:57PM

My tummy feels sore now that I’m up and trying to glide down slowly. My poor stomach lining was probably not prepared for a double attack in a two day span – food poisoning then a “soft” tumble down the slopes. Yea. Probably not.

4:57:30PM

Ok. I’m almost at base but what seemed like a tiny ache on the left side of my tummy a minute ago is absolutely excruciating now. I might as well slide to a halt and see if there’s a tiny branch sticking out of my gut or something. I lift all five of my layers. A quick peek and I’ll determine if a good back stretch or some pepto bismol will fix me right up. Is it normal that my skin is this tender? I know I just shook it up but I can’t touch it and it looks like its swelling. Ok, maybe that fall could have shaken the spleen off my mother but… Oh God, what if my sple…

4:57:13PM

***

Prose et Poesie