I live here

The beginning of a big move always feels like vacation to me.  I remember touching down in San Diego and smiling as the palm trees got closer and closer.  I remember how I felt the first time I tripped down the cobble stone in Madrid.  And I hope I'll always remember how giddy I felt last week when I finally saw a baby moose on my way to work. (I wish I could post a picture, but alas, I was on a bus and felt ashamed of my cheechako tendencies.)

I'm still excited about my adventure, and this place still feels as foreign as any new country I've ever arrived in. But the vacation part of moving to Alaska has recently begun to fade, and that feeling is being replaced with starting to sense that I might belong here.

Part of this has been because I bought an Alaska-approproiate car:

And I don't want to downplay my very first household appliance, a gift from my current favorite person, Kate:

But as is usually the case, the largest contributor to my emotional shift has been the people I've met.  As I've said before, the first few weeks of a transition are always hard for me, because I am such a social person and crave more interaction and intimacy than normal people do.  Last weekend, I went to a class to learn to make different kinds of caesar salads and pair them with wine. I'm not remarkably domestic, and before that class, I had no idea that there was more than one type of caesar salad (but was already fairly familiar with various types of wine).

This is where I met Claudia and Jose, an adorable young couple sitting across from me.  Together, we learned that these glasses are apparently bottomless.  After too many glasses of wine and plates of caesar salad, they were kind enough to invite me out with their friends for the evening.  And there, for the first time since I moved to Winter Wonderland, I finally found myself surrounded with laughter and wine and besos that didn't leave me on the outside looking in.