the belly thing

I keep thinking about Alaska. It was my second trip there and a confirmation of what I described as a "belly thing" the first time around. No, not the same "belly thing" that Mexican border town lunches do to me. Alaska gets me in the gut. I feel a pull before the plane touches down. And even in Bethel, a town that could easily (and appropriately) be described as desolate, I felt hopeful and curious.

The people who live there describe Bethel as "off the road system" which means the only way anywhere is by airplane. Sure you can take sled dogs or a snowmobile certain places, but really it's all about bush planes. I like that feeling of remoteness. It focuses you on the details of living life. Sometimes not in the greatest way--there's a lot of talk about how to deal with sewage, garbage, and the high price of neccessities. But there's also a reverence for the seasons and the welcomed resources they bring--salmon, berries, grasses, and hydroponic tomatoes. Everything takes care to survive there, so people have developed a delicate touch. But I think there's more to its appeal than the thrill of survival.

My travel partner, Marcie, was obsessed with photographing churches during our first few days in Bethel. For a small town there seemed to be so many. In general, the population is very religious, which most people will credit to the strong influence of missionaries who arrived early in the 20th century. There are stories of priests--including one notorious Father Fox--who would forceably pull people from their homes if they were absent from daily morning mass. Christianity bulldozed Yup'ik spiritual traditions to the point where people are still reluctant to practice (or even talk about) the dancing, feasting, and gathering that was part of the old ways. But the churches didn't really call all this history to mind for me. It seemed more connected to a general feeling of faith that the people in the tundra appear to possess. Being so disconnected makes it easier to believe in the unseen, I think. For many families, there's not much difference in believing in heaven than believing in Los Angeles.

I can't help but bring all these thoughts inside myself and reflect on how the world I have lived in has shaped me. I tend to dart from thing to thing with an enthusiastic fever. It's the breeze of activity and expectation that keeps me going. Patience, faith, and delicacy are harder for me. Maybe that's why this place pulls at me so much; maybe it's those things I'm most hungry for. Afterall, I did feel it first in my belly.