I thought about something when I was at the gym today. There was a poll on CNN breaking down how different minorities vote. In this election, only 3% of African Americans plan to vote for McCain. Granted, the other candidate is black so that may not seem surprising. However in the last election only 11% of blacks voted for Bush. When it comes to Hispanics, something like less than 15% plan to vote for McCain. (I was on the stairmaster and the time and I can't find the poll or exact numbers so bear with me.) 52% of whites plan to vote for McCain, and I believe it was a similar number who voted for Bush in the last election.
So does this mean, giving the shifting demographics of this country that all I have to do to see more democrats in office is just wait for whites to become the minority? According to the US Census Bureau, by 2042 whites will no longer be the majority. I don't know whether this makes me optimistic or uninspired. On one hand, it seems that the type of change that I want to see will probably come on its own. On the other hand, it seems like my participation in this change is not even necessary. I don't know what to do with this information.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Friday, October 24, 2008
Obamanation
On the evening of the vice-presidential debate I was approached by some folks in my neighborhood about going door to door as part of a get out the vote effort. Feeling the buzz I acquired from the Sarah Palin drinking game and also the inspired feeling of being surrounded by people who think the Republicans are a bunch of idiots, I enthusiastically signed up to volunteer. The next day I met with the coordinator to get my instructions and the map of the area I was supposed to cover. When I took the packet from her hands I could feel the wind going out of my sails. The front page was a “contract” I was to sign stating that my goals were not just to register voters and encourage people to vote, but to sway undecided voters in the direction of Obama. I was so dismayed. I didn’t know what to do. I felt ethically conflicted.
You see, I am not voting for Obama. I understand that the Republicans are evil and I hate George Bush just as much as the other 73% of Americans. I just don’t agree that the opposite of Republicans=Evil is Democrats=good.
I have been with my partner for six years. She is a union electrician and has the best health insurance of any American I’ve ever met. I have no health insurance. Well, not really. I pay $85/month for catastrophic insurance that only precludes me from declaring bankruptcy if I’m hit by a bus. It doesn’t cover anything up to my $1500 deductible. I can’t get on my partner’s insurance because her union (IBEW local 46) only recognizes marriage that the federal government recognizes. (In fact, her union is one of only two organizations in Massachusetts that doesn’t recognize the gay marriages there.)
I am shocked when people somehow think that Obama is in favor of gay marriage. He has stated publicly that he is in favor of civil unions, not marriage. He does sneakily admit that he wants to overturn DOMA, which could cause recognition of gay marriage. This is progress, but why should I support someone who won’t declare his support for me in public? By refusing to publicly embrace equal rights for all, he is saying that separate but equal is ok. As a black man, he should know better. He is a disgrace to the civil rights activists that enabled the position he is currently in.
I know he has a health coverage plan but it does not impress me much. I suppose if I am part of a large pool of people I will be able to buy better coverage than I am buying now. But it will still take money out of my pocket that I can’t really afford to part with and put it in the pockets of insurance companies that make it their business to deny as many claims as possible. He wants to stop them from denying people for preexisting conditions but he has no plan for the random unsubstantiated denial of care that is common practice nowadays.
I wonder how many people will have to become as disenfranchised as myself before real change happens. I hope I don’t have to find out.
You see, I am not voting for Obama. I understand that the Republicans are evil and I hate George Bush just as much as the other 73% of Americans. I just don’t agree that the opposite of Republicans=Evil is Democrats=good.
I have been with my partner for six years. She is a union electrician and has the best health insurance of any American I’ve ever met. I have no health insurance. Well, not really. I pay $85/month for catastrophic insurance that only precludes me from declaring bankruptcy if I’m hit by a bus. It doesn’t cover anything up to my $1500 deductible. I can’t get on my partner’s insurance because her union (IBEW local 46) only recognizes marriage that the federal government recognizes. (In fact, her union is one of only two organizations in Massachusetts that doesn’t recognize the gay marriages there.)
I am shocked when people somehow think that Obama is in favor of gay marriage. He has stated publicly that he is in favor of civil unions, not marriage. He does sneakily admit that he wants to overturn DOMA, which could cause recognition of gay marriage. This is progress, but why should I support someone who won’t declare his support for me in public? By refusing to publicly embrace equal rights for all, he is saying that separate but equal is ok. As a black man, he should know better. He is a disgrace to the civil rights activists that enabled the position he is currently in.
I know he has a health coverage plan but it does not impress me much. I suppose if I am part of a large pool of people I will be able to buy better coverage than I am buying now. But it will still take money out of my pocket that I can’t really afford to part with and put it in the pockets of insurance companies that make it their business to deny as many claims as possible. He wants to stop them from denying people for preexisting conditions but he has no plan for the random unsubstantiated denial of care that is common practice nowadays.
I wonder how many people will have to become as disenfranchised as myself before real change happens. I hope I don’t have to find out.
West Coast Syndrome
I stood in the crowd of boisterous people, scanning the faces. Somewhere, there had to be a familiar one. After striking out in the first room, I moved on. Strangers, in their small groups, were smiling and laughing. After making my way through the various spaces in the gallery it became clear: I’d been stood up.
The sad thing was, I was hardly even surprised. When I make plans with people in Seattle I really don’t consider the plans concrete until I am standing face to face with someone. Up until that moment, my cell phone could ring (or worse, just “ping” signaling a text), begging off with some excuse. “Oh, I have to work late. I’m not feeling well. I forgot about this other thing I have to do. I’m washing my hair.” Hell, even getting any notice at all is a courtesy not always afforded me. What is up with people here?
It’s something I often refer to as “the west coast syndrome.”
The worst thing about it is that it’s cultural. It is so pervasive here that it becomes contagious. I am sitting here writing this self-righteous rant but it’s not like I never do it either. It is so socially acceptable to be a flake that when you do it there isn’t even any need to feel bad about it.
So if everyone does it and no one feels bad about it then does it even matter? I think it does. Many people including myself complain often about how hard it is to make friends here. This flaky behavior is one major reason for this. Once you jump the enormous hurdle of getting people to initiate plans with you in the first place, you are expected to forgive their flakiness on multiple occasions in order for you to stay friends.
It may sound like asking for trouble but I refuse to do this. I have a zero tolerance policy for flaking. If someone makes plans with me then stands me up, that is it. We are no longer going to spend time together socially. If someone backs out at the last minute (less than 2 hours) then I no longer initiate plans with them. If they try to initiate plans with me, I think long and hard about whether I am going to attend. And they have to repeatedly not be flaky in order to sustain a friendship with me, otherwise I drop them.
I have occasionally made exceptions, but rarely. I have one friend here, a transplant from San Francisco where the syndrome is even more widespread, who has exhibited flakiness on many occasions and yet we still hang out. Frankly, she is such a truly high quality human being that I just can’t bear to eliminate her from my life even though some of her flightiness has been atrocious (she’s the one who stood me up at the gallery).
As a result of all this, I do not have as many friends here as I would like. I have chosen quality over quantity, a decision I am not always happy with. Probably if I wasn’t in a relationship I would have taken a different road on this issue. It would be awfully hard to spend as much time alone as a hard line stance on this issue would require for a single person.
I am writing all of this as an encouragement to all of you Seattleites out there. If you are reading this and nodding your head, help me change this. Cultural change starts with you and me. Let’s all become a little more hard nosed against this behavior, and refuse to engage in it ourselves. On that cold crappy November night when you want to stay in your pajamas instead of meeting your friends for drinks, kick your own ass off the couch. When your friend backs out on your 6pm plans at 5:30 with some lame excuse don’t tell them it’s ok. Tell them you’re pissed! This is what happens to people who engage in this type of behavior in other parts of the country, like the East Coast or the South. Let’s make this kind of thing less socially acceptable, something that has negative consequences.
The sad thing was, I was hardly even surprised. When I make plans with people in Seattle I really don’t consider the plans concrete until I am standing face to face with someone. Up until that moment, my cell phone could ring (or worse, just “ping” signaling a text), begging off with some excuse. “Oh, I have to work late. I’m not feeling well. I forgot about this other thing I have to do. I’m washing my hair.” Hell, even getting any notice at all is a courtesy not always afforded me. What is up with people here?
It’s something I often refer to as “the west coast syndrome.”
The worst thing about it is that it’s cultural. It is so pervasive here that it becomes contagious. I am sitting here writing this self-righteous rant but it’s not like I never do it either. It is so socially acceptable to be a flake that when you do it there isn’t even any need to feel bad about it.
So if everyone does it and no one feels bad about it then does it even matter? I think it does. Many people including myself complain often about how hard it is to make friends here. This flaky behavior is one major reason for this. Once you jump the enormous hurdle of getting people to initiate plans with you in the first place, you are expected to forgive their flakiness on multiple occasions in order for you to stay friends.
It may sound like asking for trouble but I refuse to do this. I have a zero tolerance policy for flaking. If someone makes plans with me then stands me up, that is it. We are no longer going to spend time together socially. If someone backs out at the last minute (less than 2 hours) then I no longer initiate plans with them. If they try to initiate plans with me, I think long and hard about whether I am going to attend. And they have to repeatedly not be flaky in order to sustain a friendship with me, otherwise I drop them.
I have occasionally made exceptions, but rarely. I have one friend here, a transplant from San Francisco where the syndrome is even more widespread, who has exhibited flakiness on many occasions and yet we still hang out. Frankly, she is such a truly high quality human being that I just can’t bear to eliminate her from my life even though some of her flightiness has been atrocious (she’s the one who stood me up at the gallery).
As a result of all this, I do not have as many friends here as I would like. I have chosen quality over quantity, a decision I am not always happy with. Probably if I wasn’t in a relationship I would have taken a different road on this issue. It would be awfully hard to spend as much time alone as a hard line stance on this issue would require for a single person.
I am writing all of this as an encouragement to all of you Seattleites out there. If you are reading this and nodding your head, help me change this. Cultural change starts with you and me. Let’s all become a little more hard nosed against this behavior, and refuse to engage in it ourselves. On that cold crappy November night when you want to stay in your pajamas instead of meeting your friends for drinks, kick your own ass off the couch. When your friend backs out on your 6pm plans at 5:30 with some lame excuse don’t tell them it’s ok. Tell them you’re pissed! This is what happens to people who engage in this type of behavior in other parts of the country, like the East Coast or the South. Let’s make this kind of thing less socially acceptable, something that has negative consequences.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Living in Costa Rica as an American
When I tell people that I spent three months studying abroad in Costa Rica they almost always ask me if I want to move down there now. My reaction is generally to recoil and shout “no!” It only occurred to me recently that to people who don’t know me well that this reaction may make me seem like a snooty American who couldn’t stand a “third world” style of living. This actually has nothing to do with it. The truth is I couldn’t stand to be associated with the type of American that lives down there.
Costa Rica has the largest number of Americans residents of any foreign country. Many Americans who move down there end up living in American-style gated communities with other expatriates. There are seriously at least 25 of these subdivisions up and down the coastline of a country the size of West Virginia. They associate only with other Americans. They send their children to English language schools. Many of them drive SUVs, wear designer clothes, and generally live an extravagant American lifestyle at a much more affordable cost than in the states. Many expats see no reason to learn Spanish even though it is the native language. I had the misfortune of contracting a kidney infection while there and had to go to the “private” hospital where rich Ticos and Americans go. While I was waiting several very well dressed American women came in with their children. They didn’t speak a word of Spanish although I overheard one of them telling another American that they have lived there for five years.
In some countries such as Mexico there are restrictions on foreigners buying land. This is not the case in Costa Rica. When you drive up the Pan American highway there is a real estate office about every five miles. Their signs are in English and it is my understanding that basically 100% of the people utilizing these offices are Americans. In addition to the omnipresent realtors, just about every empty piece of land in the country has a sign on it stating that it is for sale (in English). I am not exaggerating. It’s like the whole country is for sale to the highest bidder.
Costa Rica also doesn’t enforce any environmental restrictions on the (largely foreign) developers that build these communities. There are technically laws that state that developers must show that there is adequate water and sewage for the number of residences built but a quick grease of the palm will generally get an inspector to sign off on this. As a result there are way too many people for the available water supply in most areas where Americans live. Most residents remain blissfully unaware of this although they can’t figure out why the water goes out every few days. There is usually sewage treatment for “black water” (what comes out of the toilet) but often none for “grey water” (the dirty soapy water from your sink or shower). The grey water often just comes out of a pipe straight onto the ground and right into local streams. Waste disposal is another issue. Up until recently across the country pretty much all garbage ended up either being burned, buried, or thrown in a river somewhere. Even now, only a few areas in Costa Rica have actually started using lined landfills. Considering not just the existing subdivisions but all the ones I saw in the process of construction it seems unlikely that current waste disposal facilities could handle this growth in population.
Costa Rica is constantly encouraging more people to move south creating the illusion that the country has the resources to handle it. They are often promising something they can’t deliver. These developers, aided by the Costa Rican government, make it seem in their advertising like you’re buying an American house just not in America. However it is common for an American to move into one of these houses and have to endure constant interruptions in the supply of water and electricity. This doesn’t even include other typical developing world problems such as hurricanes washing the roads out or crime such as petty theft. The developers are trying to trick people into believing they aren’t in the developing world but occasionally reality intrudes on them.
These problems caused by the onslaught of Americans are well publicized but with a few exceptions little is done about them. The truth of the matter is that all these Americans bring a lot of money into a poor country. Ask any Tico (as Costa Rican nationals are called) and they will tell you they want more American development in their area because it means more jobs. This is hardly surprising considering the lack of industry outside the capital of San Jose. It is the developing world, and catering to Americans is the number one staple of the economy.
What disturbed me about it though was that the Ticos didn’t seem to care about the cultural influence this had on their country. I was frankly appalled at how much American culture seemed to be steamrolling local customs. The Ticos did not seem too concerned about this. The first time I asked a Tico how he felt about all the signs and billboards in English, the huge American style houses, etc. he shrugged and informed me (in Spanish) that his grandfather was from Italy and explained how everyone in Costa Rica has relatives that are foreigners. I thought this opinion was an anomaly so I took to asking just about every Tico I met and every single one of them gave me a similar answer except for one. His response was “Once the land in my village gets sold to an American that is land that won’t ever return to my hands.” Good point, however we are talking about one out of around sixty people that I asked this question. The rest of them were quite content to see the Americanization of their country continue.
It disturbed me to my core. I feel that in most countries people have a strong sense of culture. It is one of the main things that connect people to one another. If that culture is trampled upon by an outside culture then what do you have left? I, for one, would fight for the preservation of my culture. The fact that Ticos as whole seem uninterested in doing so left me somewhat depressed. Some students in my study group put a positive spin on it, stating that their culture is much more malleable than ours. I think if this were an exchange between two economic equals I could agree with that, but when one considers how much more economic clout an American has than a Tico then it seems more like we are annexing Costa Rica without giving its citizens the benefits of being Americans such as decent wages and worker protection laws.
I wish this information was readily distributed to people considering purchasing a home in Costa Rica. I don’t think most people want to do things that they know harm another country. After all, you wouldn’t consider buying a home somewhere unless you loved how it is now. I do worry that if development there continues at its current rate that in fifteen years or so the country will be trashed by development and have lost the natural beauty that lures people down there to begin with. The key is for these individual buyers to think of themselves as part of the greater picture, not the one person who’s found the key to paradise.
Costa Rica has the largest number of Americans residents of any foreign country. Many Americans who move down there end up living in American-style gated communities with other expatriates. There are seriously at least 25 of these subdivisions up and down the coastline of a country the size of West Virginia. They associate only with other Americans. They send their children to English language schools. Many of them drive SUVs, wear designer clothes, and generally live an extravagant American lifestyle at a much more affordable cost than in the states. Many expats see no reason to learn Spanish even though it is the native language. I had the misfortune of contracting a kidney infection while there and had to go to the “private” hospital where rich Ticos and Americans go. While I was waiting several very well dressed American women came in with their children. They didn’t speak a word of Spanish although I overheard one of them telling another American that they have lived there for five years.
In some countries such as Mexico there are restrictions on foreigners buying land. This is not the case in Costa Rica. When you drive up the Pan American highway there is a real estate office about every five miles. Their signs are in English and it is my understanding that basically 100% of the people utilizing these offices are Americans. In addition to the omnipresent realtors, just about every empty piece of land in the country has a sign on it stating that it is for sale (in English). I am not exaggerating. It’s like the whole country is for sale to the highest bidder.
Costa Rica also doesn’t enforce any environmental restrictions on the (largely foreign) developers that build these communities. There are technically laws that state that developers must show that there is adequate water and sewage for the number of residences built but a quick grease of the palm will generally get an inspector to sign off on this. As a result there are way too many people for the available water supply in most areas where Americans live. Most residents remain blissfully unaware of this although they can’t figure out why the water goes out every few days. There is usually sewage treatment for “black water” (what comes out of the toilet) but often none for “grey water” (the dirty soapy water from your sink or shower). The grey water often just comes out of a pipe straight onto the ground and right into local streams. Waste disposal is another issue. Up until recently across the country pretty much all garbage ended up either being burned, buried, or thrown in a river somewhere. Even now, only a few areas in Costa Rica have actually started using lined landfills. Considering not just the existing subdivisions but all the ones I saw in the process of construction it seems unlikely that current waste disposal facilities could handle this growth in population.
Costa Rica is constantly encouraging more people to move south creating the illusion that the country has the resources to handle it. They are often promising something they can’t deliver. These developers, aided by the Costa Rican government, make it seem in their advertising like you’re buying an American house just not in America. However it is common for an American to move into one of these houses and have to endure constant interruptions in the supply of water and electricity. This doesn’t even include other typical developing world problems such as hurricanes washing the roads out or crime such as petty theft. The developers are trying to trick people into believing they aren’t in the developing world but occasionally reality intrudes on them.
These problems caused by the onslaught of Americans are well publicized but with a few exceptions little is done about them. The truth of the matter is that all these Americans bring a lot of money into a poor country. Ask any Tico (as Costa Rican nationals are called) and they will tell you they want more American development in their area because it means more jobs. This is hardly surprising considering the lack of industry outside the capital of San Jose. It is the developing world, and catering to Americans is the number one staple of the economy.
What disturbed me about it though was that the Ticos didn’t seem to care about the cultural influence this had on their country. I was frankly appalled at how much American culture seemed to be steamrolling local customs. The Ticos did not seem too concerned about this. The first time I asked a Tico how he felt about all the signs and billboards in English, the huge American style houses, etc. he shrugged and informed me (in Spanish) that his grandfather was from Italy and explained how everyone in Costa Rica has relatives that are foreigners. I thought this opinion was an anomaly so I took to asking just about every Tico I met and every single one of them gave me a similar answer except for one. His response was “Once the land in my village gets sold to an American that is land that won’t ever return to my hands.” Good point, however we are talking about one out of around sixty people that I asked this question. The rest of them were quite content to see the Americanization of their country continue.
It disturbed me to my core. I feel that in most countries people have a strong sense of culture. It is one of the main things that connect people to one another. If that culture is trampled upon by an outside culture then what do you have left? I, for one, would fight for the preservation of my culture. The fact that Ticos as whole seem uninterested in doing so left me somewhat depressed. Some students in my study group put a positive spin on it, stating that their culture is much more malleable than ours. I think if this were an exchange between two economic equals I could agree with that, but when one considers how much more economic clout an American has than a Tico then it seems more like we are annexing Costa Rica without giving its citizens the benefits of being Americans such as decent wages and worker protection laws.
I wish this information was readily distributed to people considering purchasing a home in Costa Rica. I don’t think most people want to do things that they know harm another country. After all, you wouldn’t consider buying a home somewhere unless you loved how it is now. I do worry that if development there continues at its current rate that in fifteen years or so the country will be trashed by development and have lost the natural beauty that lures people down there to begin with. The key is for these individual buyers to think of themselves as part of the greater picture, not the one person who’s found the key to paradise.
Monday, October 20, 2008
8/5/08 Testicle Festival
My friend Sally and I went to the Rocky Mountain Oyster Festival yesterday, better known as the Testicle Festival. It may very well be the most ridiculous event I have ever attended. It's sort of like Mardi Gras in Montana, with a little bit of Sturgis bike week and a swingers' club thrown in for good measure. We got there a bit late in the day because of the amount of work we had to do, so we missed Bullshit bingo, where you place bets on where a bull will shit on a very large grid drawn on the dust in chalk. However we did arrive in time for the oil wrestling match. We couldn't see much due to the crowds, other than the girls getting oiled up in the beginning.
We gave up watching since we couldn't see so we just kind of wandered around. There was music blaring that was directly from 1989. It was the same hair metal Tiffany and I listened to back in the day. It was like being in a time warp hearing all that Tesla and Skid Row. Soon this man and woman come driving by on this golf cart with a plate of cherries. They call us over, offer us a cherry, and start talking to us. At first I think they are maybe promo people for some unknown product or something but after a couple of minutes I realize they are actually hitting on us, trying to get us to go back to their campsite with them. This theme continued throughout the day. We did not actually get hit on by many men, most of the men we talked to were actually just friendly and not sleazy at all. However, we got hit on by many women, most of whom were with men. There was a lot of that "show your boobs for plastic beads" thing going on, kind of like Bourbon street. Flashing your boobs gets you a strand of beads, but you can often get up to 5 strands of beads if you are willing to make out with your female friend, or lick her nipple.
We heard there was going to be a wet t-shirt contest so we moved up to the stage to make sure we could see this time. Of course, right in front of us is the couple that was trying to get with us earlier. They and another couple whom they were apparently more successful with proceeded to engage in a form of breast hunting. They would pick a girl out of the crowd that they thought would be receptive and then one of the guys would go over and try to get her to flash for beads. This continued (with about a 30% success rate) for about 30 minutes until the contest started.
Apparently, a regular wet t-shirt contest isn't phallic enough so you actually have to put a penis-shaped attachment on the end of the hose before you squirt the girls. To deem this contest a wet t-shirt contest is a bit of a misnomer. Really, 2 or 3 girls come on stage, get doused with water, then rip off their shirts. The first group left it at that, but it escalated quickly. The second group flashed their crotch, and by the third group all the guys in the crowd were chanting "beaver! beaver! beaver!" so pretty soon all the girls were just getting naked after getting doused with the hose. By the time the second to last group came out the guys were chanting "eat her box! eat her box!" By the last group a guy next to me kept yelling "eat box to win! eat box to win!" No girls actually complied with this. The girl who won was the only one with fake boobs, which was kind of disappointing.
Having survived this spectacle, and multiple requests for breast showing, we decided it was time to get down to the business at hand. You could either order your RMOs by the 1/3 pound or you could have a "ball kebob". Who can resist that right? Unfortunately, I can report that should you ever get the opportunity that you should definitely have your testicles fried instead of grilled. When grilled they have roughly the consistency of overcooked calamari. They really don't have any flavor at all, which I guess is good. Sally made the mistake at looking at the inside of one, which I told her was a bad idea! These guys sitting across from us let us have one of the fried ones and actually I have to say they weren't half bad.
We basically spent the rest of the time there walking around taking pictures of scary people, scary hair, and scary outfits, all of which were in abundance. If Sally saw something good she would have me pose like she was taking my picture and then shoot over my shoulder or next to me so we weren't as obvious. We actually bonded with these really fun guys from Arkansas that were walking around doing the same thing we were. There were some guys walking around naked, which seemed odd somehow even if it is a testicle festival. There really weren't girls walking around naked or even topless probably for fear of undue harassment. It overall wasn't as rowdy as you'd expect. There were little pockets of rowdiness but most people were actually pretty mellow. There was definitely some people getting more drunk by the time we were leaving but you were mostly able to tell because they'd just be standing around with classic party stance.
Ok, that's almost it for my Montana adventures. I'm finishing up my paper this week, giving a presentation on Thursday, and then driving back on Friday.
We gave up watching since we couldn't see so we just kind of wandered around. There was music blaring that was directly from 1989. It was the same hair metal Tiffany and I listened to back in the day. It was like being in a time warp hearing all that Tesla and Skid Row. Soon this man and woman come driving by on this golf cart with a plate of cherries. They call us over, offer us a cherry, and start talking to us. At first I think they are maybe promo people for some unknown product or something but after a couple of minutes I realize they are actually hitting on us, trying to get us to go back to their campsite with them. This theme continued throughout the day. We did not actually get hit on by many men, most of the men we talked to were actually just friendly and not sleazy at all. However, we got hit on by many women, most of whom were with men. There was a lot of that "show your boobs for plastic beads" thing going on, kind of like Bourbon street. Flashing your boobs gets you a strand of beads, but you can often get up to 5 strands of beads if you are willing to make out with your female friend, or lick her nipple.
We heard there was going to be a wet t-shirt contest so we moved up to the stage to make sure we could see this time. Of course, right in front of us is the couple that was trying to get with us earlier. They and another couple whom they were apparently more successful with proceeded to engage in a form of breast hunting. They would pick a girl out of the crowd that they thought would be receptive and then one of the guys would go over and try to get her to flash for beads. This continued (with about a 30% success rate) for about 30 minutes until the contest started.
Apparently, a regular wet t-shirt contest isn't phallic enough so you actually have to put a penis-shaped attachment on the end of the hose before you squirt the girls. To deem this contest a wet t-shirt contest is a bit of a misnomer. Really, 2 or 3 girls come on stage, get doused with water, then rip off their shirts. The first group left it at that, but it escalated quickly. The second group flashed their crotch, and by the third group all the guys in the crowd were chanting "beaver! beaver! beaver!" so pretty soon all the girls were just getting naked after getting doused with the hose. By the time the second to last group came out the guys were chanting "eat her box! eat her box!" By the last group a guy next to me kept yelling "eat box to win! eat box to win!" No girls actually complied with this. The girl who won was the only one with fake boobs, which was kind of disappointing.
Having survived this spectacle, and multiple requests for breast showing, we decided it was time to get down to the business at hand. You could either order your RMOs by the 1/3 pound or you could have a "ball kebob". Who can resist that right? Unfortunately, I can report that should you ever get the opportunity that you should definitely have your testicles fried instead of grilled. When grilled they have roughly the consistency of overcooked calamari. They really don't have any flavor at all, which I guess is good. Sally made the mistake at looking at the inside of one, which I told her was a bad idea! These guys sitting across from us let us have one of the fried ones and actually I have to say they weren't half bad.
We basically spent the rest of the time there walking around taking pictures of scary people, scary hair, and scary outfits, all of which were in abundance. If Sally saw something good she would have me pose like she was taking my picture and then shoot over my shoulder or next to me so we weren't as obvious. We actually bonded with these really fun guys from Arkansas that were walking around doing the same thing we were. There were some guys walking around naked, which seemed odd somehow even if it is a testicle festival. There really weren't girls walking around naked or even topless probably for fear of undue harassment. It overall wasn't as rowdy as you'd expect. There were little pockets of rowdiness but most people were actually pretty mellow. There was definitely some people getting more drunk by the time we were leaving but you were mostly able to tell because they'd just be standing around with classic party stance.
Ok, that's almost it for my Montana adventures. I'm finishing up my paper this week, giving a presentation on Thursday, and then driving back on Friday.
7/28/07 Philipsburg
This past weekend some folks from the station and I went down near
Philipsburg, MT to mine for our own sapphires. It was an interesting
adventure in many ways. First of all, the drive was HOT. I mean, I
have a really high tolerance for heat but riding with 5 people for 3.5
hours in a pontiac grand prix with no air conditioning in 90+ degree
weather is incredibly intense. We stopped and bought popsicles and
they were melting before we could even eat them.
We got to Philipsburg, and were just roasting and dehydrated.
Philipsburg is a really cool little town. It's got 1,000 residents
and is just an old town with one main street with all old brick
buildings and cute antique streetlights. We got there at 6:20PM and
everything was already closed except for one restaurant. They
definitely get a lot of tourists through there for the mining and also
for fly-fishing but the town clearly has it's own character. There is
an old brick jail up on the hill with a tower, and it is still a
functioning jail. I really wanted to get in a bar fight just so I
could get arrested and taken to that jail.
The dynamics of our road trip group are a bit unusual. I sometimes
feel like I am having a cross-cultural experience here even though we
are all from the same country, just different parts. We sat down at
the restaurant and the waitress was a complete idiot. We asked for
water, and were desperate for it, and yet it took her almost 10
minutes to get us small juice glasses of water. She screwed up our
order even as she was taking it. So needless to say the service
sucked. However, this one girl in our group is from NYC and has
basically never been out of New York. When the waitress brought her
ice cream in a dish instead of a cone she went totally stereotypical
rude New Yorker on her. I was mortified. This other girl in the
group is from Oklahoma. Now in that part of the country, and in the
rural south for that matter, it is not necessarily rude to ask for
separate checks. It is rude to do so here, as it is on the west
coast. This girl always asks for separate checks and doesn't seem to
notice the irritated look that the server always gives her. She also
is an admittedly poor tipper, which as a former bartender I have a
hard time with.
So we finally got out of there and went to find somewhere to camp. We
found a really cool forest service campground that was free(!) We
camped next to a nice stream. After arriving at the campsite I found
out that Oklahoma and NYC have never been camping before in their
lives. Can you imagine? We had to show them how to set up the tent.
Oklahoma was very concerned with how she was going to wash her face
since there was only a pit toilet. She was amazed when we informed
her that she could use water from the stream to wash her face (as long
as she didn't get soap in the stream). We had to show NYC how to make
a s'more. The 4 of them crowded into NYC's borrowed tent and I
pitched my own because after the field course I was in last quarter I
have a silly sentimental attachment to my tent. (Tom-remember that
feeling from our trip?) The weather only dropped to maybe 50 at night
but NYC got very cold at 4am and went and slept in the car.
We got up in the morning and followed the signs to the mine. Along
the way we passed a road sign that said "narrow windy dangerous
gravelly mountain road next 25 miles". Just so you know what you're
getting into I suppose. The mining itself is off this road.
Essentially they truck a bunch of gravelly dirt in from the actual
mine up in the hills. You buy a bucketful and a strapping young buck
brings your bucket to the trough and shows you how to wash it and what
to look for. We were having fun flirting with the 17 year old help,
which I think kind of amused them. You spend the next couple hours
picking and sorting and staring intently at dirt. I did find some
gems though. I got 4 that were big enough to be cut, one of which was
a pink sapphire which are pretty rare. I got tons of smaller pretty
ones as well.? It was super messy fun.
Afterwards we went back to Philipsburg to see what it was like when
things are open. They have a candy store there that is like the one
in Willy Wonka except even bigger. It was really overwhelming and I
now have more candy than I can eat. Some may even come home with me.
They also sell Miracle Max's Magic Pills which made me really happy.
We then began our slightly less hot drive home (overcast day). While
passing through Clinton, MT we saw a sign for a Rocky Mountain Oyster
Festival August 1-5. Admission is $15 which kind of violates me but
I'm just not sure I can pass it up. SIGH.
Philipsburg, MT to mine for our own sapphires. It was an interesting
adventure in many ways. First of all, the drive was HOT. I mean, I
have a really high tolerance for heat but riding with 5 people for 3.5
hours in a pontiac grand prix with no air conditioning in 90+ degree
weather is incredibly intense. We stopped and bought popsicles and
they were melting before we could even eat them.
We got to Philipsburg, and were just roasting and dehydrated.
Philipsburg is a really cool little town. It's got 1,000 residents
and is just an old town with one main street with all old brick
buildings and cute antique streetlights. We got there at 6:20PM and
everything was already closed except for one restaurant. They
definitely get a lot of tourists through there for the mining and also
for fly-fishing but the town clearly has it's own character. There is
an old brick jail up on the hill with a tower, and it is still a
functioning jail. I really wanted to get in a bar fight just so I
could get arrested and taken to that jail.
The dynamics of our road trip group are a bit unusual. I sometimes
feel like I am having a cross-cultural experience here even though we
are all from the same country, just different parts. We sat down at
the restaurant and the waitress was a complete idiot. We asked for
water, and were desperate for it, and yet it took her almost 10
minutes to get us small juice glasses of water. She screwed up our
order even as she was taking it. So needless to say the service
sucked. However, this one girl in our group is from NYC and has
basically never been out of New York. When the waitress brought her
ice cream in a dish instead of a cone she went totally stereotypical
rude New Yorker on her. I was mortified. This other girl in the
group is from Oklahoma. Now in that part of the country, and in the
rural south for that matter, it is not necessarily rude to ask for
separate checks. It is rude to do so here, as it is on the west
coast. This girl always asks for separate checks and doesn't seem to
notice the irritated look that the server always gives her. She also
is an admittedly poor tipper, which as a former bartender I have a
hard time with.
So we finally got out of there and went to find somewhere to camp. We
found a really cool forest service campground that was free(!) We
camped next to a nice stream. After arriving at the campsite I found
out that Oklahoma and NYC have never been camping before in their
lives. Can you imagine? We had to show them how to set up the tent.
Oklahoma was very concerned with how she was going to wash her face
since there was only a pit toilet. She was amazed when we informed
her that she could use water from the stream to wash her face (as long
as she didn't get soap in the stream). We had to show NYC how to make
a s'more. The 4 of them crowded into NYC's borrowed tent and I
pitched my own because after the field course I was in last quarter I
have a silly sentimental attachment to my tent. (Tom-remember that
feeling from our trip?) The weather only dropped to maybe 50 at night
but NYC got very cold at 4am and went and slept in the car.
We got up in the morning and followed the signs to the mine. Along
the way we passed a road sign that said "narrow windy dangerous
gravelly mountain road next 25 miles". Just so you know what you're
getting into I suppose. The mining itself is off this road.
Essentially they truck a bunch of gravelly dirt in from the actual
mine up in the hills. You buy a bucketful and a strapping young buck
brings your bucket to the trough and shows you how to wash it and what
to look for. We were having fun flirting with the 17 year old help,
which I think kind of amused them. You spend the next couple hours
picking and sorting and staring intently at dirt. I did find some
gems though. I got 4 that were big enough to be cut, one of which was
a pink sapphire which are pretty rare. I got tons of smaller pretty
ones as well.? It was super messy fun.
Afterwards we went back to Philipsburg to see what it was like when
things are open. They have a candy store there that is like the one
in Willy Wonka except even bigger. It was really overwhelming and I
now have more candy than I can eat. Some may even come home with me.
They also sell Miracle Max's Magic Pills which made me really happy.
We then began our slightly less hot drive home (overcast day). While
passing through Clinton, MT we saw a sign for a Rocky Mountain Oyster
Festival August 1-5. Admission is $15 which kind of violates me but
I'm just not sure I can pass it up. SIGH.
7/23/07 Ranchers!
I used to have this saying about Montana (developed when Tom and I
drove through here). "Montana's really great just don't talk to
anyone." This was based largely on superficial judgments of the
types of people we encountered here in a few days. In the years
between then and now, I opened my mind a bit. I've been to Montana a
few times now. I've had some great times here on previous trips and
this one. My friends from New Orleans live in Bozeman and love it.
However, I have to say, I've come full circle. I have to stand by my
original statement. I mentioned my encounter with the overprotective
rancher who blames me for his wandering cows, resulting in me having
to trek through a mile of wetlands to reach part of my site. Now
another development occurs. Remember the whole story of my friends
encountering Rob's rafting buddies? Well now the guy who owns that
land won't let my friends walk through his property to get to their
research site. Today he told them to "get the hell off his property,
and how dare they tell those rafters this was public land, and can't
they read a map?" (Actually a map of the area shows that indeed some
of it is forest service land which is what my friends told the rafters.)
It's like these damn people think that it's 1890 and they've just
staked out their homestead and if someone didn't see the one stake in
1000 acres, that they're trespassers and thieves. I'm surprised they
don't all carry rifles. They probably would if those damn second
amendment violating government officials would let them.
I'm sorry, pardon my rant. This week I feel I have discovered a new
definition of exhaustion. I don't think I actually understood that
exhaustion is a physical condition. It really affects your whole
body. I worked 14 days in a row and then on my "day off" I went to
Glacier National Park at 6AM to go hiking before the throngs of people
arrived. It was awesome, really great, but I see now that I should
have slept instead.
I have seen some really amazing things. In fact, I think I see at
least one amazing thing every day that makes me happy that I got up at
5:30AM. (No one will probably care about the next sentence.) I saw
some Sandhill Cranes today from about 100 feet. They took off and the
shadow was so huge it was like an airplane flew over. There's really
nothing like Montana, in so many ways.
drove through here). "Montana's really great just don't talk to
anyone." This was based largely on superficial judgments of the
types of people we encountered here in a few days. In the years
between then and now, I opened my mind a bit. I've been to Montana a
few times now. I've had some great times here on previous trips and
this one. My friends from New Orleans live in Bozeman and love it.
However, I have to say, I've come full circle. I have to stand by my
original statement. I mentioned my encounter with the overprotective
rancher who blames me for his wandering cows, resulting in me having
to trek through a mile of wetlands to reach part of my site. Now
another development occurs. Remember the whole story of my friends
encountering Rob's rafting buddies? Well now the guy who owns that
land won't let my friends walk through his property to get to their
research site. Today he told them to "get the hell off his property,
and how dare they tell those rafters this was public land, and can't
they read a map?" (Actually a map of the area shows that indeed some
of it is forest service land which is what my friends told the rafters.)
It's like these damn people think that it's 1890 and they've just
staked out their homestead and if someone didn't see the one stake in
1000 acres, that they're trespassers and thieves. I'm surprised they
don't all carry rifles. They probably would if those damn second
amendment violating government officials would let them.
I'm sorry, pardon my rant. This week I feel I have discovered a new
definition of exhaustion. I don't think I actually understood that
exhaustion is a physical condition. It really affects your whole
body. I worked 14 days in a row and then on my "day off" I went to
Glacier National Park at 6AM to go hiking before the throngs of people
arrived. It was awesome, really great, but I see now that I should
have slept instead.
I have seen some really amazing things. In fact, I think I see at
least one amazing thing every day that makes me happy that I got up at
5:30AM. (No one will probably care about the next sentence.) I saw
some Sandhill Cranes today from about 100 feet. They took off and the
shadow was so huge it was like an airplane flew over. There's really
nothing like Montana, in so many ways.
7/7/07 Glacier
We went up to Glacier National Park the other day and did a 12 mile
loop hike past these amazing mountain lakes. It's pretty incredible
there. Huge mountain peaks with lots of alpine lakes between them.
I need to explore around the park more, providing I have time. It's
kind of a tease where the bio station is located because we are about
1.5-2 hours from some really cool stuff but we do not have a lot of
free time.
I discovered or re-confirmed a few things about myself on this hike.
The first thing is that I am incredibly sensitive to altitude. I
know this from my fabulous experience with altitude sickness in Peru
but I forget that I live at sea level and my lungs really prefer to
operate under those conditions. Our hike only started at about 4500
feet but for the first hour and a half I was having so much trouble
breathing that if it had been safe for me to turn back alone (grizzly
country) I would have. It was kind of embarrassing. I have been
seriously hiking and training for several months so I was in shape and
it actually had little effect. I was really glad that I went
though. One of these days I will actually get some pictures on
freaknugs so y'all can see what I'm up to here.
The other thing I re-confirmed about myself is that I am a different
kind of outdoors person from most people. Living in Seattle there is
this tremendous pressure to be this
outdoorsy-gearhead-mountaineering-Outback driving person. I am
definitely into nature but in a totally different way from this kind
of person. The 12 mile hike was great but I get every bit as much
out of a 6 mile hike as I do out of a 12 mile one. I do not need to
get to the highest peak or find the absolute best view. I am just as
happy to be out in the forest enjoying the hike, stopping to figure
out what bird is singing. It's not about getting to the top for
me. It surprises me that I feel in a minority in this respect, but I
do. The 12 miles was really not a big deal, I actually thought it
would kick my ass more than it did. But next time I want to enjoy
the journey a little more as my fellow hikers were really excited to
get to the view at the top. They walked right by a bunch of wildlife
that I had to point out to them.
The other thing I've realized while being here is that I am still
really sucky at the morning thing. I've been secretly patting myself
on the back for like a year because I thought I was actually getting
better at getting up early and functioning. Now here in the land of
Folgers I have realized that the only thing improving my performance
at home is the incredibly strong coffee I drink. When I press my own
Peet's coffee here I do fine. The days I try drinking cafeteria
coffee I am a total zombie most of the day. I think I'll be a drug
addict til I die.
Ok, so I've bored you with my self-discovery so now I'll go back to
animal stories. I was at my site yesterday and spent about half an
hour watching a fox hunting in the field. He would run, then jump
straight up in the air and pounce on things (probably meadow voles).Â
I also scared the tiniest deer fawn. They bed down in fields and
wait for mom to return for hours. I was practically on top of her
before she finally bolted. She couldn't have even been a week old.
Poor thing, I must have terrified her. I also saw some little
weasel-marten-mustelid thing chasing a deer mouse. I love those
little weasely animals. They're so fierce.
It's storming here today so it's a few hours of research followed by
some b-movies on netflix most likely.
loop hike past these amazing mountain lakes. It's pretty incredible
there. Huge mountain peaks with lots of alpine lakes between them.
I need to explore around the park more, providing I have time. It's
kind of a tease where the bio station is located because we are about
1.5-2 hours from some really cool stuff but we do not have a lot of
free time.
I discovered or re-confirmed a few things about myself on this hike.
The first thing is that I am incredibly sensitive to altitude. I
know this from my fabulous experience with altitude sickness in Peru
but I forget that I live at sea level and my lungs really prefer to
operate under those conditions. Our hike only started at about 4500
feet but for the first hour and a half I was having so much trouble
breathing that if it had been safe for me to turn back alone (grizzly
country) I would have. It was kind of embarrassing. I have been
seriously hiking and training for several months so I was in shape and
it actually had little effect. I was really glad that I went
though. One of these days I will actually get some pictures on
freaknugs so y'all can see what I'm up to here.
The other thing I re-confirmed about myself is that I am a different
kind of outdoors person from most people. Living in Seattle there is
this tremendous pressure to be this
outdoorsy-gearhead-mountaineering-Outback driving person. I am
definitely into nature but in a totally different way from this kind
of person. The 12 mile hike was great but I get every bit as much
out of a 6 mile hike as I do out of a 12 mile one. I do not need to
get to the highest peak or find the absolute best view. I am just as
happy to be out in the forest enjoying the hike, stopping to figure
out what bird is singing. It's not about getting to the top for
me. It surprises me that I feel in a minority in this respect, but I
do. The 12 miles was really not a big deal, I actually thought it
would kick my ass more than it did. But next time I want to enjoy
the journey a little more as my fellow hikers were really excited to
get to the view at the top. They walked right by a bunch of wildlife
that I had to point out to them.
The other thing I've realized while being here is that I am still
really sucky at the morning thing. I've been secretly patting myself
on the back for like a year because I thought I was actually getting
better at getting up early and functioning. Now here in the land of
Folgers I have realized that the only thing improving my performance
at home is the incredibly strong coffee I drink. When I press my own
Peet's coffee here I do fine. The days I try drinking cafeteria
coffee I am a total zombie most of the day. I think I'll be a drug
addict til I die.
Ok, so I've bored you with my self-discovery so now I'll go back to
animal stories. I was at my site yesterday and spent about half an
hour watching a fox hunting in the field. He would run, then jump
straight up in the air and pounce on things (probably meadow voles).Â
I also scared the tiniest deer fawn. They bed down in fields and
wait for mom to return for hours. I was practically on top of her
before she finally bolted. She couldn't have even been a week old.
Poor thing, I must have terrified her. I also saw some little
weasel-marten-mustelid thing chasing a deer mouse. I love those
little weasely animals. They're so fierce.
It's storming here today so it's a few hours of research followed by
some b-movies on netflix most likely.
6/16/07 Missoula
My meeting in Missoula was great. The professor there knew exactly what I should do and laid out a whole plan for me. I just need to write my proposal and get it approved then I'm up chasing birds around most mornings for the next few weeks. I went to my site today, which is gorgeous. I was watching some Common Yellowthroats when a huge male white-tailed deer with a rack that a hunter would kill for (no pun intended) bolted right past me. There's also fox and coyote in the area as well as tons of eagles and osprey. There is a component of my study that involves remote sensing (are you reading Tom?) which will be interesting since I have basically no idea how to use the technology as of now.
Missoula itself is the 3rd hippiest place I've ever been. (#1, Arcata, #2, Eugene) It is so crunchy I'm surprised they even have roads and cars. I am not making this up, you actually get wafts of patchouli from the boutiques as you walk down the main street. It's nice that they're so into sustainability and stuff, but the hippieness made me a little crazy. I countered it by going to the Army Navy Surplus store to buy bear spray for my friends. I asked the guy if there was sales tax and he said "We don't like that kind of thing around here."
From what I can gather the first rule of having a gay bar in this part of the country is that you have to walk down a flight of stairs to get into the bar. As I previously mentioned, this bar is actually in the basement of a post of the American Veterans Association. So I went down the stairs and there's people hanging out in the stairwell. Turns out you can't smoke inside in Missoula. (Damn you hippies!) It was early, so there were only 3 people there. I ordered a drink and although I was too early for happy hour my drink was $2. Next to me was a Native American guy drinking a very large pitcher of Bud Light by himself. When he finished he started another one. It would have been amusing if he hadn't been Native. Since he was it was kind of sad. The other 2 guys appeared to be Bitter Old Fags, which is basically one of my favorite kinds of person and also the regular customer of most of my favorite bars. I didn't have enough time to hang out but I will definitely be going back.
Ok I'm off to figure out if the 15 random Japanese people currently BBQing on our deck are actually supposed to be here or if (as I suspect) they think this is part of the state park next door.
Missoula itself is the 3rd hippiest place I've ever been. (#1, Arcata, #2, Eugene) It is so crunchy I'm surprised they even have roads and cars. I am not making this up, you actually get wafts of patchouli from the boutiques as you walk down the main street. It's nice that they're so into sustainability and stuff, but the hippieness made me a little crazy. I countered it by going to the Army Navy Surplus store to buy bear spray for my friends. I asked the guy if there was sales tax and he said "We don't like that kind of thing around here."
From what I can gather the first rule of having a gay bar in this part of the country is that you have to walk down a flight of stairs to get into the bar. As I previously mentioned, this bar is actually in the basement of a post of the American Veterans Association. So I went down the stairs and there's people hanging out in the stairwell. Turns out you can't smoke inside in Missoula. (Damn you hippies!) It was early, so there were only 3 people there. I ordered a drink and although I was too early for happy hour my drink was $2. Next to me was a Native American guy drinking a very large pitcher of Bud Light by himself. When he finished he started another one. It would have been amusing if he hadn't been Native. Since he was it was kind of sad. The other 2 guys appeared to be Bitter Old Fags, which is basically one of my favorite kinds of person and also the regular customer of most of my favorite bars. I didn't have enough time to hang out but I will definitely be going back.
Ok I'm off to figure out if the 15 random Japanese people currently BBQing on our deck are actually supposed to be here or if (as I suspect) they think this is part of the state park next door.
6/14/07 Flathead Lake Biological Station
There's a bat that lives outside our bathroom. He's a little brown bat (his species name, not a cute name I gave him). He's been roosting there since I got here. I actually thought he was dead until I very gently poked at him with a stick and he opened his little mouth like he wanted to kill me. I'm not sure why he isn't flying around at night with his friends. Maybe, like me, he finds it too cold to chase around things that fly. I'm hoping one evening I will find him gone.
Went to Glacier National Park yesterday. We had to watch a very amusing safety video on what to do should you encounter a grizzly bear. I think it's entertaining now but when I do sneak up on a bear I'm sure I'll appreciate it. I have my bear spray handy. Slight side note: I talked to my mom right before I left Seattle and she asked me how the packing was going. I told her I just returned from REI where I bought my bear spray. She asked what you do with bear spray. Apparently she thought that you spray it on your stuff to keep bears away, kind of like insect repellent. When I told her that I could possibly have a bear encounter she was totally horrified. I guess living your entire life in California handicaps you in some ways.
I'm going to the booming metropolis of Missoula tomorrow to meet with an adviser who actually knows something about birds and may be able to direct my research somehow. In a slightly annoying turn of events one of my fellow students invited herself along. I was not looking for company in fact I was actually looking forward to a bit of alone time and maybe checking out Missoula's gay bar, which incidentally is in the basement of a post of the American Veterans Association. I really have no grounds on which to refuse to transport this person so I feel kind of stuck. Plus, even if she wouldn't mind going to a gay bar, I think much like 90% of people here she is too young to enter a bar. Totally surreal.
Went to Glacier National Park yesterday. We had to watch a very amusing safety video on what to do should you encounter a grizzly bear. I think it's entertaining now but when I do sneak up on a bear I'm sure I'll appreciate it. I have my bear spray handy. Slight side note: I talked to my mom right before I left Seattle and she asked me how the packing was going. I told her I just returned from REI where I bought my bear spray. She asked what you do with bear spray. Apparently she thought that you spray it on your stuff to keep bears away, kind of like insect repellent. When I told her that I could possibly have a bear encounter she was totally horrified. I guess living your entire life in California handicaps you in some ways.
I'm going to the booming metropolis of Missoula tomorrow to meet with an adviser who actually knows something about birds and may be able to direct my research somehow. In a slightly annoying turn of events one of my fellow students invited herself along. I was not looking for company in fact I was actually looking forward to a bit of alone time and maybe checking out Missoula's gay bar, which incidentally is in the basement of a post of the American Veterans Association. I really have no grounds on which to refuse to transport this person so I feel kind of stuck. Plus, even if she wouldn't mind going to a gay bar, I think much like 90% of people here she is too young to enter a bar. Totally surreal.
6/11/07 Flathead Lake Biological Station
So I checked into the Biological Station yesterday where I will be spending the next couple of months. It is on a peninsula in Flathead Lake. We are surrounded by the sounds of waves from all sides. Much of the lake is surrounded by huge mountainous forests. The sunset last night was unreal. It's pretty isolated, at least 15 miles from the nearest town. The birds are awesome and apparently there is a black bear roaming around with her cub somewhere although I have yet to see them.
There are 25 students living here and assorted faculty. I am definitely the oldest student who is not doing graduate research. It's weird, because there are many undergrads in my program at home near my age yet everyone here is like 22. It feels a bit odd. Everyone is very nice though. People are from all over the country. There are a few Montana natives so I do get to hear things like "You're a vegetarian? By choice?" but other than that it is cool. My advisers on site here know approximately nothing about birds or bird research. I will be driving to Missoula on Friday so I can plan out my research with someone who actually has a clue what I should do.
I think the station kind of operates on "tropics time". As in, there is actually a schedule but things still pretty much happen when they happen. I was supposed to visit my research site today but they haven't fixed the leak in my boat yet. They're working on it now. I'm figuring by Thursday maybe it will be ready. One of my advisers showed up today but no one knows where the other one is.
Ok I gotta go root through my car now to find my coffee press. The commissary actually serves Folgers on tap and caffeine free Diet Coke. I don't think I could be more horrified. Thank god I brought a pound of Peet's coffee. I might have to have my sad, wallowing wife send me more.
There are 25 students living here and assorted faculty. I am definitely the oldest student who is not doing graduate research. It's weird, because there are many undergrads in my program at home near my age yet everyone here is like 22. It feels a bit odd. Everyone is very nice though. People are from all over the country. There are a few Montana natives so I do get to hear things like "You're a vegetarian? By choice?" but other than that it is cool. My advisers on site here know approximately nothing about birds or bird research. I will be driving to Missoula on Friday so I can plan out my research with someone who actually has a clue what I should do.
I think the station kind of operates on "tropics time". As in, there is actually a schedule but things still pretty much happen when they happen. I was supposed to visit my research site today but they haven't fixed the leak in my boat yet. They're working on it now. I'm figuring by Thursday maybe it will be ready. One of my advisers showed up today but no one knows where the other one is.
Ok I gotta go root through my car now to find my coffee press. The commissary actually serves Folgers on tap and caffeine free Diet Coke. I don't think I could be more horrified. Thank god I brought a pound of Peet's coffee. I might have to have my sad, wallowing wife send me more.
6/9/07 St. Ignatius
Tonight I'm in St. Ignatius, MT at what I believe may be the Bates
Motel. At the bottom of my motel is the Cowboy Coffee shop. I went
in there to ask where I get a room and the guy behind the counter
tells me to go to the door around the outside of the building. I do
this and the same guy meets me at the counter and gets me a room. He
talks really really slow, David Lynch-like, and after running my card
makes a joke about how his hand is stuck to the card. I had to yank
it out of his hand, then he accused me of having no sense of humor.
There is a bar across the street that calls to me but I'm afraid the
proprietor of my motel may frequent the place. Plus, a not very wise man
once told me that you shouldn't drink in bars on Indian reservations.
I am in the beautiful Flathead Valley. I went to the National Bison
range today where I saw all kinds of birds that I won't bore you with
the details of. I also saw lots of bison roaming the hillsides,
including babies nursing off their mom. I took a great hike to the
high point of the park where I had a 360 degree view with the Flathead
valley on one side, the lake in the distance, and Glacier National
Park in the other direction with its huge snowy peaks. Ok I gotta
go. I'm going to go have a huckleberry shake before the little diner
next door closes.
Motel. At the bottom of my motel is the Cowboy Coffee shop. I went
in there to ask where I get a room and the guy behind the counter
tells me to go to the door around the outside of the building. I do
this and the same guy meets me at the counter and gets me a room. He
talks really really slow, David Lynch-like, and after running my card
makes a joke about how his hand is stuck to the card. I had to yank
it out of his hand, then he accused me of having no sense of humor.
There is a bar across the street that calls to me but I'm afraid the
proprietor of my motel may frequent the place. Plus, a not very wise man
once told me that you shouldn't drink in bars on Indian reservations.
I am in the beautiful Flathead Valley. I went to the National Bison
range today where I saw all kinds of birds that I won't bore you with
the details of. I also saw lots of bison roaming the hillsides,
including babies nursing off their mom. I took a great hike to the
high point of the park where I had a 360 degree view with the Flathead
valley on one side, the lake in the distance, and Glacier National
Park in the other direction with its huge snowy peaks. Ok I gotta
go. I'm going to go have a huckleberry shake before the little diner
next door closes.
Coeur D Alene 6/8/07
I am in Coeur D Alene Idaho. It is very beautiful, right on an
enormous lake surrounded by mountains and pine forests. It is also
another one of those mid-Rockies towns where the born-and-raised
natives have little money and there isn't much industry but the rich
people from California and other places have "discovered" it.
There's this low key little town but then there's this downtown
district with a wine bar and fancy restaurants and galleries and
salons. It's a very odd juxtaposition of cultures. I just got back
from the gay bar. Not too bad, only a few people there. Two women
with *amazing* mullets came in, ordered 2 Sparks, and then went to a
table and started making out like mad. Talked to a couple of locals,
seems like not such a bad place to live actually. I left when a
woman with a buzzcut who was at least 6 months pregnant came in and
sat at the bar and started chain smoking. It made my brain twitch.
enormous lake surrounded by mountains and pine forests. It is also
another one of those mid-Rockies towns where the born-and-raised
natives have little money and there isn't much industry but the rich
people from California and other places have "discovered" it.
There's this low key little town but then there's this downtown
district with a wine bar and fancy restaurants and galleries and
salons. It's a very odd juxtaposition of cultures. I just got back
from the gay bar. Not too bad, only a few people there. Two women
with *amazing* mullets came in, ordered 2 Sparks, and then went to a
table and started making out like mad. Talked to a couple of locals,
seems like not such a bad place to live actually. I left when a
woman with a buzzcut who was at least 6 months pregnant came in and
sat at the bar and started chain smoking. It made my brain twitch.
Montana!
As many of you know, I spent the summer of 2007 at Flathead Lake Biological Station in Polson, MT. While there I began sort of unofficially blogging about the experiences I had as a 30-something trying to conduct a research project among 20-somethings in the somewhat foreign environment of Montana. I am christening this blog with a reprisal of those posts.
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