Written last night:
Tonight is no night to be walking around Barrow, Alaska. Tonight is cold. Windy and cold. I just walked back from Pepe’s North of the Border Mexican food and the only part of me that was exposed was the area just around my eyes, and that area felt like it was about to fall off by the time I got back to the hotel. It stung, and I was briefly afraid my corneas might freeze.
Pepe’s was, well, an experience. I’m convinced they have two seating areas: one for locals, and one for tourists. I was in a room that looked like it doubled as a storage area but that also had a nice warm fire place and plenty of bull fighters and other typical “Mexican” decor to give it a lively atmosphere. My server was interesting. He sort of reminded me of the guy from the Scary Movie movies who sticks his fingers in the food. He was lanky and wiry with ear-length hair and a red sweatshirt that said something to the effect of, “My doctor recommended I walk a mile a day for exercise. Looks like I need to get another doctor.”
I ordered a beef burrito doused in chili and cheese with a side of sour cream that tasted like it was about two months expired. All around the bottom of the burrito was an 1/8th of an inch layer of grease that gave the whole meal the desired “gut bomb” effect you want when eating “traditional” Mexican cuisine. It was good, though. Don’t want to knock it too hard. I wanted a hearty, filling burrito and that’s exactly what I got. It cost $15.50.
My waiter, the dude with the sweatshirt, told me he was from Auburn but that he hadn’t been back there since the Kingdome got built. I asked him why he came to Barrow and he gave me a response that he was obviously sick of repeating, “Came up here in 1975 wanting to see an igloo and a polar bear. Plane got fogged in and I never left.”
He mentioned somewhat innocuously that a bear and her cubs was sighted yesterday out by the football field four miles down the road. This piqued my interest. He said often times when the wind is blowing out towards the ocean they smell food and come wandering in close to town. Apparently a few years back one actually came INTO town and wandered through the parking lot near the restaurant and walked by a bunch of guys off-loading freight. I guess this is maybe why people don’t walk around. Either that or because it’s fucking freezing.
We also talked about alcohol. He explained to me that Barrow is neither a wet or damp or dry town, but a “restricted” town where you need a personal permit, kind of like a drivers’ license, to be able to buy alcohol. To get one of these you need to live here and you can only use it to buy and consume alcohol yourself; you can’t buy for other people even if they’re 21. Once you have one of these you can go down to the Barrow Distribution Center and buy alcohol that’s been shipped in from Fairbanks for your own personal use. You have to pay taxes and freight and probably a bunch of other fees that make it more or less prohibitively expensive.
It was good to get out tonight and have some human interaction, albeit with a dude that scared me. There’s only so much I can take of sitting in this chair watching Dexter and listening to music. Tomorrow is another day in Barrow, another day of splendor. Maybe I’ll see a polar bear. Or maybe I’ll see a polar bear drinking Jack Daniels. With a permit, of course.
Update: So far it HAS been another day of splendor. Today I walked to the grocery store and the wind was blowing so hard into my face across the frozen lake where I was walking that my right actually almost froze shut. It was fucking terrifying. I stopped in the post office for refuge after I got across the lake even though there was absolutely nothing I needed to do in the post office.
Have I mentioned, people, that it’s cold here?