Sunday, September 30, 2012

Life in "Capitol City"

One of the really neat qualities of Juneau that makes it a welcoming environment for a newly-transplanted individual such as myself is it's geographic isolation.  Darwin noticed this in his galapagos finches, I've noticed it in the Juneau community.  His conclusions were biological, mine are more sociological:  There are about 40 miles of road in Juneau.  The only way to connect to the rest of Alaska, Canada and the US of A is by plane or ferry.  We're surrounded by water on one side and the Juneau Ice Field on the other.  There are a few implications to this:  First of all, everyone seems to know everyone else, if not directly, then through a friend or family member.  Second, I've found that I see a lot of the same people around town, from friends to co-workers, clients, and other generally familiar faces from commuting.  The third, which contributes to the previous two, is folks generally stay in town on the weekends, and involve themselves in the community in a much more intensive way than, say, the metropolitan Boston area, where there are over 20 different towns within the reach of a 30 minute drive.

I love it.  There are tons of community events in town such as barn dances (swing and contra dancing), free yoga classes, community theatre productions, slam poetry, live folk and bluegrass performances, and the list goes on.  If you want to be anonymous, take a hike, literally (a few pics to follow of some of those hikes).

This great community feeling draws a stark contrast to the Cruise Ship business that floods Juneau in the summer months.  Droves of Alaska-sweatshirt-wearing, camera-carrying, neck-craning tourists file out of cruise ships from May through September, asking questions like "What is the elevation of Juneau?" (Hint: You were just on a boat, in salt water).  Am I sounding a bit critical?  Somewhat hypocritical I suppose, especially since I've only been here for 2 months, but the sentiment seems to pervade many of the permanent residents.  The cruise ships and tourism bring a lot of revenue to Juneau, which is great, but at the same time, it seems that the cruise ship vacation attitude exploits the intrinsic beauty and value of Southeast.  I will be spending a year volunteering in Juneau, an only be able to scratch the surface of what Juneau has to offer: its culture, its nature, its people.  What can you experience of any city in 10 hours?
I happened to run into a former co-worker from Manhattan who was in Juneau on a cruise.  We talked for a short while about Juneau, how her cruise was going, etc.  She asked me, in a very thick New York City accent, "What is there to do around heeah?  You got this street and that's it.  Whattaya do heeah in the winter?"  I couldn't even begin to answer.  The same way that you could never really get to know the personality of any individual in 8 hours time, you cannot truly experience and absorb the culture of a new community in a short stop off on a week-long cruise.  You can come back saying, hey, I went to Alaska, got this cool sweatshirt, saw a glacier, got a picture in front of a stuffed brown bear and saw a bald eagle in a cage.  I did the same thing in parts of Europe: stereotypical college, study abroad tourist.  It is because that I had that experience that I appreciate the opportunity to be in one place for a year, immerse myself in the community, make myself a part of Juneau as much as Juneau will become a part of me after this year is over.  A year gives me the time to pause to ponder (as they would say at Holy Cross), think about my impression on this community, and its impact on me.

Now that the Cruise Ship season has officially ended, I am interested to see how the community of Juneau looks and feels.

Until next time...

A look back across the Mendenhall Glacier onto the Juneau Icefield

Canoeing on Windfall Lake on a weekend hiking trip with the organization at which I volunteer.

Windfall Lake

Windfall Lake, early morning

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