There's a Joke in There

Somewhere on the open road from Wyoming to Colorado People today have two versions of their lives: their Actual Life and the Facebook (Instagram/ Snapchap/Tinder/ Social Media) Version. Actual Life endures the harsh truths that must be confronted each morning; work, bills, wrinkles, bad news, bad breath, free-to-air television, crushed dreams. While the Facebook Version skips over all the crap parts, highlights and filters the best bits and photoshops across the board. I'm guilty of this myself. I was recently on a roadtrip through the US and posted a photo on instagram of a snow-covered landscape and a wide open road ahead, implying that I was free and fearless. Exploring the world. Just living the dream. Thick ice caked the car And while it WAS an amazing time, I had driven many hours that day, alone and singing to myself. The temperature had dropped very quickly when I'd reached these flat, exposed areas, making the roads icy and unsafe and at some points, ...

They say all good things must come to an end*, and last week, just as the summer weather was making a final retreat, my time living and working in the seaside town  of Seward on Alaska's Kenai Peninsula did exactly that - it became a good thing that ended.  (*I'm unclear on the profundity of this saying though, because bad and mediocre things must also come to an end. Literally everything ends.) As I waited reluctantly at the Anchorage airport to board my red-eye flight to Los Angeles, I reflected upon my  initial expectations  for this adventure. Back in June, I felt confident that I was going to spend my weekends solo traveling throughout Alaska and that I would write every day and laugh smugly at small-town living. I wondered if I would cope earning minimum wage. I was terrified that I'd be sleeping in a bunk bed in dingy employee housing, sharing with 8 other, weird people. I worried that I hadn't packed enough warm clothes. In hindsig...

At the Pit Bar With the speed and reach of an STD in Cancun during Spring break, news of my blog's existence has spread through Seward. Unlike an STD though, this is good as well as bad. The advantage is that my audience has grown. The disadvantage is that I find myself slightly censored by my awareness that whatever I write is being read by people with whom I live and work everyday. However, the truth needs to be told and if you amuse me and/or act like an idiot, I remain dedicated to writing about it as honestly as possible. If you are offended, you should first look inwards. Concerning amusement, it's time I wrote about one of the strangest and most entertaining characters I've met up here. In my very first post from Seward, I mentioned that I'd been dropped at the wrong residence by one of our drivers, Buddy*. As it turns out, that incident was a prophetic indication of the general confusion that embodies this man. Buddy is in his early sixties (my best gue...

If you've never experienced a night out in a small town, I highly recommend that you try it before you die. Profound graffiti in the Yukon bar bathroom Here in Seward, aside from sighting water or a mountain, the least challenging task that you could undertake would be to locate an establishment that serves beer. Following that, the next easiest task would be finding someone willing to consume beer along with you. Due to convenience, drinking often begins at the Small Boat Harbor. The harbor is where most tour boats and fishing charters depart from and return to, thus at knock-off time, employees, captains, deckhands and fishermen need only cross a single street before arriving at alcohol. At ambience-free locations such as The Breeze, patrons enjoy a drink or two, maybe a bite to eat, and then, pending their willingness to continue spending their minimum wage on beer, they begin to trickle downtown, about a mile away. Means of transportation include walking, bicycling, ...

Seward small boat harbour I've been in Alaska for just over a week and the weather continues to be unusually warm. In fact, yesterday Seward experienced it's  hottest day  since July 1999, with a temperature of 88°F. This is great except for one minor issue: there is no air conditioning anywhere in Alaska. None. Amidst the heat wave, I've begun work at the front desk of the Glacier Tours* company. Our tours go out into the  Kenai Fjords National Park  (pronounced 'keen-eye fyords '), which is accessible only by water (with the exception of Exit Glacier, which is accessible by road). My job involves checking-in passengers and directing them to their boats and assisting people who wander into the office. As part of my training, I was sent out on an 8 hour boat tour and got to see Aialik Glacier (pronounced 'eye-alik' glacier ), one of the largest tidewater glaciers in the park. It was the best paid work day I've had since that time I was pa...

Bored Koala awaits your riveting travel stories I have a unique accent. I know this because whenever I talk to someone for the first time, they make random, incorrect guesses as to my origins before surrendering and asking where my accent is from. I've given the answer more times than I can count. In it's summarised version; I was born and raised in South Africa. I moved with my family to Australia when I was in high school. And after I finished university, I flew to North America where I have lived, on and off, ever since.  Unfortunately, what usually happens next is that the conversation heads in one of two directions: 1. The new acquaintance asks me whether I know that one other random friend they have from Australia/ South Africa/ Any foreign country. The answer is always 'no'. Just because I'm Australian does not mean that I know your Australian friend, Wallaby Sheila, who was living in Darwin back when you visited in 1987. There are 22 mill...

Seward, Alaska Of all the things I will be accused over my lifetime, failing to provide great stories for my friends to laugh at will not be one of them. This year, I believe I'm taking things to a whole new level with my bold and hasty decision to abandon all adult responsibility and instead spend the summer living and working in Alaska. I will be based in the picturesque, seaside town of Seward , a place I visited for around 2 hours on my first and only trip to Alaska (a trip that also spawned the worst photo ever taken of the Northern Lights). Ultimately a fishing town - some have made the daring claim that it offers the best salmon fishing in the world - Seward has a population of 3000, an average summer temperature of 55°F (13°C) and sits at the entrance to the Kenai Fjords National Park . The town is the prime jump-off point for the boat and kayak tours that carry tourists along the waterways for close-up viewing of tidewater glaciers and marine wildlife. It is...

One of the adventures in which I partook while I was visiting Alaska was a tour up to the Arctic Circle. On the day I chose to tour, the bus was full of local US Air Force personnel who had the day off, their families and me. That's it. What I'm saying is, I stood out. Near the Arctic, only two passengers were bold/foolish enough to climb up to this lookout point: me and a 12 year  old kid. On the trek, I asked him, 'Since you've lived in Alaska your whole life, how cold does it need to get before you'd say 'wow, it's really cold'?'  He thought about it, then replied, 'That really depends on what I'm wearing'.  Touché my quick witted, young friend.  (This same child would later pull me up a snow slope after I sank & trapped myself. I'm told it was hilarious to watch from the bus. You're welcome, America.)

For as far back as my brain will allow me to remember, I've wanted to see the Aurora Borealis (or Northern Lights). For me, the draw is a combination of their elusive, unpredictable nature, the cold, extreme climates in which they are most visible and my own fascination with the universe. A fascination born out of a childhood spent sitting around a camp fire in the Kruger National Park in South Africa, where I grew up, and gazing up at the night sky with my Dad. I've discussed my desire to see the Northern Lights with friends and family and I've discovered that it's an item common to bucket lists. Yet there are surprisingly few people who have ventured far enough outside of their geographical comfort zone to actually see them. Perhaps this is because the only conditions under which most people would choose to spend their single week of vacation in snowy, freezing locales would be if it were obligatory (aah Christmas...a time that now expands from October through t...