Mush!

Airport Time

2012-01-29T22:49:00.001-08:00

I've shared with many of you before that I love airports. I love them because it's The Land Between Time. I am generally frantically busy (by my own doing), but in an airport, all of my obligations and commitments fall away. I am able to spend my time exactly as I please -- reading, writing, and making up stories about the people I'm openly staring at.

Whatever it might say about my inability to attach, I love moving. I love new faces and places and roads. But my least favorite thing about moving is the being-alone part in the beginning. No matter how outgoing you are, there is going to be a lag period where people have yet to realize how amazing you are. I'm in that place now.

Although, before I sound like I'm complaining too much, I want to say that I'm appreciative of the few friendships that have begun. My favorite person thus far in Anchorage took me here today:

Anyway, today, as I wandered in downtown Anchorage, I realized that this is my airport time! I sat and had a beer at an Irish pub, chatted with the odd people sitting by me at the bar, then sat in a coffee shop to read for a while. Instead of being impatient that it apparently takes more than 7 days to make new best friends, I want to embrace this space as the peaceful in-between.

Starbucks

2012-01-28T19:00:00.000-08:00

When I lived in Madrid, I felt guilty every time I wanted to do something "American": Speak English, use a clothes dryer, walk while eating a sandwich... and especially wanting to stop by Starbucks. But anyone who has made a big move can tell you that homesickness kicks in a few months after the initial relocation. When your friends back home have stopped revolving their schedule around your Skype dates, after the adrenaline of the adventure starts to drain, homesickness lurks in the darkness waiting for his debut.

When this happened to me in Madrid, I gave in and went to Starbucks. There, I would drink out of a paper cup, hear English chatter, and have my grande skinny hazelnut latte that tasted exactly like home (even if my name wasn't spelled correctly on the side of it). Maybe that was when Starbucks started to feel like home to me. It was an inexplicable source of comfort, and I learned to seek it out when my Spanish bravado was wearing thin.

Today, when I sank into a leather couch at a downtown Anchorage Starbucks, I recalled the countless times I've done the same thing in so many cities around the world, taking joy in one token of familiarity while every other tangible thing in my life was slipping away. I could close my eyes and imagine I was in any city I wanted to be in. I know that, as a good liberal girl, I'm not supposed to love Starbucks... but I do. Maybe I walked away from warm sunny beaches and California burritos and the best friends a girl could ask for... but I'm keeping my hazelnut latte.

Week One

2012-01-27T20:39:00.000-08:00

This week is crazy!

I'm done with my first week of work, and I'm wiped out. So many new things... I thought picking up in a PD office wouldn't be so complicated, but everything is new. Everything takes effort: every acronym, every new face, every time I need to find the bathroom. But everyone at the office is incredibly warm, and I think I'll feel at home in no time. I did a few hearings this week, and I feel more comfortable every day.

The person training me to do his old job has been unspeakably generous with his time and is much more patient than I would be with someone with so many inane questions. One colleague is allowing me to stay in her home and borrow her car for two weeks while I dog-sit for her. A large group of people came out for happy hour Friday, and it was an easy group to relax in.

I'm quickly getting acquainted with the favorite PD coffee shop as well. But every time we want to go on a coffee field trip, it is a huge ordeal! Someone sounds the call from the hallway, and all of the sleepy PDs come crawling out, slowly robing in coats, scarves, gloves, and hats. Then we all trudge out in the snow for a cup of coffee. But today, just as I started to feel sorry for myself, I saw a puppy wearing mittens! I tried to take a picture of him, but he was pretty quick.

I was lucky enough to have one Alaska contact before moving. I emailed a law school professor to let him know about my new job (and to thank him for the extensive help he gave me on a scholarly writing article that contributed to my procurement of said job), and he responded by letting me know that his nephew lives in Anchorage! He was kind enough to hang out this week, and it was refreshing to already feel as though I have a friend here.

I found an apartment as well! It's in an adorable community called Bootleggers' Cove. You can see the water (and the sunset over the water) from my living room window! I'm excited not to be homeless anymore, and even more excited to have a dishwasher for the first time in my adult life. Email me for the address if you'd like to send me a present.

I'm Here!

2012-01-23T10:40:00.000-08:00

I arrived in Anchorage Sunday around 4:00 p.m. I dropped off my stuff in the cutest bed and breakfast on earth, and decided to take advantage of my hour of remaining light and went for a walk around the neighborhood. I found a grocery store and bought some snacks for my room. I found a reindeer and took a picture of him.

Mostly, I feel like one of the small unattractive children that fell through the wardrobe and into snowy and magical Narnia. I am only missing some Turkish Delights.

Then my new boss, Tracey, came to get me for dinner. We ate at the Bear Tooth Grill, and had Polar Pale Ale (made by Moose Tooth Brewery). They like animal teeth here, I guess. I feel lucky to work in an office where my superior will welcome me into town and buy me my first beer.

I had asked the agency if I could have one day to myself before starting work, and I’m glad I did. I’m not sure if it’s the cold, the dark, or the sudden realization that I moved to Alaska, but I’ve been exhausted! I decided to go on an adventure on my Monday off. I’ve wanted to go to REI again, which is a few miles away from my B&B. I don’t have a vehicle, and public transportation (the “People Mover”) is unimpressive. But I discovered that there are some hiking trails that you can take almost all the way there from where I’m staying in downtown.

It was a good walk, about an hour and a half. I bought some wool socks, tights, and underwear at REI. I spent a shocking amount of money on these things. But everyone keeps saying I'll enjoy my life here more if I'm not afraid to drop money on warm clothes, so I'm diving in. The boots and coats Christina made me buy are fantastic; I'm so glad to have them! So if that’s any indication, the warm clothing is an investment. Here is what the warm clothes empowered me to see:

The trip back from REI was a little trickier. Everything is so white it was hard to remember the way I came. But I did find my way back after all, completely wiped out by my tiny task.

Odd

2012-01-21T08:00:00.000-08:00

In preparation for my impending move, Christina (my amazing friend and super-shopper) offered to take me shopping. Shopping makes me grumpier than any other activity on earth, and I’m always amazed/grateful that she is so willing to take on the challenge with me. So she escorted me to REI, where she instructed me to try on countless coats and boots to prepare for a climate with which I have no experience.

While I was trying on a particularly furry pair of shoes, a friendly older lady asked me where I was going in them.

I took a deep breath. “Anchorage.”

“Anchorage is the most beautiful place I have ever been!”

“Have you been a lot of places?” I don’t know how to justify my response other than to say that I wanted to know her frame of reference, and I often think out loud. The question was actually irrelevant now that I think of it. I think San Diego is one of the most beautiful places on earth, and she had obviously already experienced this.

She smiled graciously, “Yes, dear.”

Christina urged me to continue working my way through the pile of shoes and socks she had brought me. (Until that moment, I had assumed sock sizes were fairly generic. Apparently not.) I obediently participated in the world’s most boring ritual of trying on things that don’t belong to me.

Just as Christina was narrowing down my selection, the woman was leaving the shoe area and turned to give me one last word of wisdom. “Good luck in Anchorage. I promise you will be absolutely odd.”

I sat in stunned silence (which rarely happens, I assure you).

Christina was stacking boxes and chatting with salespeople, nonplussed.

“Christina. Did you hear that woman?”

“Yes. She said you’ll be awed.” I don’t know why, but when Christina repeated the phrase, it became very obvious that the woman had promised that I would be AWED, and I had projected my own fears into her words.

I’m sure I’ll be both.

Alaska

2012-01-14T22:38:00.000-08:00

One week ago, I was offered a job in Anchorage, Alaska.

Since then, I have learned that people have very strong feelings about Alaska. I was surprised to learn this, as I had never spent much time thinking about the state one way or the other. But when I bring it up, I consistently get one of two responses: “I have always wanted to go there!” or “Why would you ever move there?”

I was never aware that Alaska was a place that anyone (much less my closest friends) had a burning desire to explore. It had certainly never occurred to me to try to make the trek.

But that was before. Before the economy and job market gave all of us lawyers (at the time, law students) a rude awakening. Before I knew how boring civil law is and before I had learned how fascinating criminal law is. Before I had been passed over for a deputy public defender position in seemingly every PD office in the state of California, and before I – inexplicably – had started to feel an itch to leave the lovely city of San Diego.

With all of these recent progressions, my mind began to open. When my good friend Diana suggested I apply to the Alaska Public Defender Agency, it didn’t seem like such a shocking idea. I had somehow developed a sense of obligation to apply to every single public defender opening I became aware of. So I applied. Two weeks ago, I was offered an interview. One week ago, I was offered a position. And one week from today, I’ll leave this beautiful town that has brought me so much warmth and happiness.