Old Harbor.

Wed. June 29, 2011
12:00am ish

I’ve been home from the Mission Trip to Old Harbor for roughly… two hours. And even though I was only gone for ten or eleven days, and even though I stayed in Alaska, I feel as if I am reverse culture-shocking.

Laying in my bed, looking at all my stuff kind of makes me feel ill. Why do I need all this? It isn’t as if people in Old Harbor don’t have stuff – because they do – it’s how they view it. To them, it is necessary. A skiff to catch fish. A Honda to get around town. Clothes so you aren’t naked. There seem to be no pretenses because there isn’t room for them. And yet, they allow themselves to take pleasure in those things, enjoying the tools. Using the skiff to view Harbor seals and find sand dollars. Going over the hill on the Honda. Playing dress-up.

It’s also odd, the first few days, to be with different people, people who did not go on the trip, who will not understand what happened, no matter how many times and ways you explain it.



I think I am so tired and confused at this point that nothing makes sense… at all. Everything is loud and annoying and frustrating, so I’m going to bed. Tomorrow I am meeting with my future supervisors to talk salary, benefits, and a possible trip to Disneyland. But oh, what I would give to be back on that skiff, watching the seals, then on that beach, cavorting in the warm sand, playing I Spy with sand dollars.