First Day of Moose Season

This post is more of an introduction, or prologue, of the next blog entry. This will be a special guest entry, as it will be written by Ben. 

Thursday he begged to go on a hunting trip for the very first day of moose season. My only requirement was that he took pictures, and write about it on my blog. The trip is taking longer than anticipated and I'm beginning to wonder when my husband is coming home. He's out in the cold and rain now, sending me messages through a GPS texting device. No word of a bull moose as of yet... 

But here is a picture of him with a silver salmon for now (which he caught two weeks ago). That should get us excited.

But these three days of single parenting have not been bad. The best part was yesterday, when we spent time with the principal and her husband, and another new teacher. We pick blueberries for a happy two hours in the drizzle rain (that's pretty good with three children). Wolfe ate most of his but Ruby and I managed to pick enough for blueberry muffins. 

We will see who is the breadwinner this weekend- moose or muffin?

Ben let Wolfe drive! 

Our First Week Back

Hello again.
After four months of summer vacation we returned to our home in Alaska. This time as a family of five, and a family with (a little more) experience of living in the bush.

We found that some motion sickness can
be avoided if we have headphones on. 

And this time around, no one got sick on the bush flight.

The cool, wet weather greeted us as our plane landed on the pebble and dirt runway. Clay was there to load us and our thousand dollar grocery order in the school van. We didn't get far down the road when I asked Clay to stop the truck. I quickly hopped out with Dagny. It was windy, so I wrapped her blanket around her, set her on the ground beside the road, and rocked her body back and forth in the damp dirt. She squinted and Ben snapped a picture; then we scooped her back up and rode two miles to the village of New Stuyahok.

It is a tradition of our village, and other tiny villages around us, that once the mama returns from the hospital with her baby, the baby is to be rolled in the soil of her hometown. Although New Stuyahok isn't my hometown, it felt appropriate at that moment. (Sorry, Webster, NY). It reminds me of "from dust we were formed to dust we return" concept. Genesis 3, right?!

We have now been here for over a week. Some days are really interesting- last Monday I canned 10 pounds of carrots and froze 171 bananas. And some days are less than exciting (yesterday all I did was help Wolfe tape monster pictures on my walls and was Anna to Ruby's Elsa game.) However, each day is met with more of an optimistic view than last year. We know a little more about bush flights, we know a little more about ordering bulk groceries, a little more about the village culture...I could go on. But I won't. Because I can write a little more about it later.

This job is for the monkeys...

Blueberry picking 

Clay had a family addition too.
Harvey, the new puppy,  is on his far right

Hannah's Birthday

Last week Wolfe had a play date with his friend Hannah. Hannah's mom, Labovo Wonhola is really sweet, and their house is one of the closest to teacher housing, so I love it whenever they ask Wolfe over to play. As Lobova drops him off, she mentions that Hannah's birthday is Monday and that she will see me then. I nod and smile and wonder what this statement means. Should I stop over with a gift Monday? Bring over some cookies? Will there be a party? Come Monday, I've already forgotten until I'm about to head out the door for a run. Lobova calls me on the phone.
"You can come now. We are waiting on you and one other person."
Wait, what? I stammer, but try hard no to sound irritated:
"You're having a party now? I didn't know. Could we come in an hour?" I needed to get the kids ready, I didn't have a gift; and personally I dislike anything that cuts into my afternoon exercise routine. I could run and then go, right?
"Come now. Bring Wolfgang, Ben and Ruby. We will wait for you to eat," she replied.
All four of us arrived five minutes later, with Father right behind us (I was grateful it was the town's spiritual leader who was later that my family.)
There I was in my running tights with no gift, and the only one not excited to go to a birthday party. That quickly changed; I realized that the thirty or more guest squeezed into that tiny house were all related and we, although not family, were welcomed like family. I, being pregnant, was made to be one of the first in the food line. Adults gave Wolfe hugs and squeezes and offered more Kooaid his immune system could handle. The older crowd laughs when Ruby sticks her finger in the expensive cake to get a good frosting lick.
I enjoyed experiencing how they celebrate too. Right before Hannah blew out the candles, Father lead us in chanting the Lord's prayer, then another prayer and then the happy birthday song. People would then sit and eat a plate a food, wrap another plateful up in tinfoil and head home. The party was short, but with good conversation and lots of laughter. Babies were been held and passed so that I didn't know who belonged to who.  Father blessed the little ones and others rejoiced over Hannah's fourth year by giving her verbal blessings rather than wrapped gifts.
We left wishing to have more experiences like that. And I promised myself  to not let routine guide my life too much. What if I did run instead of going to the Wonhola's? We all would've missed out on a Alaska style party and I would've had the same run like I do almost every other day.  I'm still learning, but at least I'm passing this lesson onto you:
If you come to bush Alaska, expect some Slavic spontaneity from the natives; at it's highest form of love.

Weekend Getaway

This past weekend, I had my first prenatal appointment in Alaska. Twenty-five weeks pregnant, and I have only been out of the village once since August; I was pretty excited. I had the doctor's visit, blood tests and ultrasound all day Friday, and then for the rest of the weekend I attended (another!) sewing class. It was all in a fish town called Dillingham. Some people call this town "Dillinghole" because it may be dirty, small and less exciting than Anchorage; but still I was excited. It was like a country girl spending a weekend in the big city. But this big city was a fish town with 3,000 people.
The baby seemed excited to go too. Little "Mo" was kicking me the whole bush plane ride and during the entire ultrasound. (This was the name given to our unborn child by my father in law, John. It's actually Eskimo shortened to Mo. Not Yup'ik at all. More like derogatory. You can either get upset at the politically incorrect title or appreciate the slightly inappropriate humor of Garlets' men.)
And because little Mo was so active, the ultrasound was pretty hard to see. Nevertheless, I walked out of that small hospital with only one blurry ultrasound profile picture - telling me I was a week farther along than what I thought with a healthy baby boy/girl. Still unknown.
To make it even more of a weekend getaway, my friend Danielle came with me to catch up on her doctor visits. We had fun. We successfully sewed two Kuspuks each over the weekend. We enjoyed shopping at the grocery store and buying new thread, gloves, hummus, candy and fruit. We ordered lunch twice at the only fast food place in town. Which was actually pretty funny to find out the ultrasound technician was also the Subway manager: on Friday, he was putting gel on my belly, and then the next day he was serving me my Veggie Delight Salad with chips. 
Despite the good fun we both had, Danielle and I were disappointed when our flight was a day delayed due to weather. We stayed one more night at the hotel sewing our last projects and watching "Friends" reruns. The next morning after waiting two hours for the weather to clear, we took the tiniest plane back to foggy New Stu with a pilot named, Angel.
I got home to a very excited Wolfe ("I missed you, mom! I made you a map on how to get home!") and to a Ruby who just wanted to get back into our normal routine. The house was far from order and cleanliness, reminding me that Ben and I make a great, balanced couple.

This little weekend trip was a good refresher for me; and the time helped me look forward even more to the energetic addition that will come in May.

Friday morning

A view from the plane

Getting home to happy kids

Made a qusbuk for Rue

Nellie, me and Danielle in our qusbuks

Slavic Christmas

Last Thursday, Wolfe, Ruby and I visited the Russian Orthodox church for the first time. This was a big deal to me in many different ways. First, driving with both my little kids on the four wheeler, down the icy hill, in the pitch black, cold morning, was a huge accomplishment for me. But we did it, and got there right at 9am. Secondly, this being the only church and one of the few social buildings, I felt that attending opened my eyes a little more to this culture.

Wolfe outside the church

Although I have not learn what Slavi is entirely about, I know it's the way the Yu'pik people celebrate Christmas here. Starting with a morning service on January 7th, Slavi (this is also spelled several ways) goes for an entire week. After the that first service, villagers travel to other villages,  singing at several houses, then eating after. Usually Father Bishop is the first house to visit in every town. Then, well known families after that- each providing a meal after the caroling is done. Elders have told me that more villages are visited when it snows and the river is frozen. Lights of 30-40 snow machines and sleds can be seen traveling on the river through the tundra to towns at night. These days, when the snow doesn't stick, we usually only get travelers from villages twenty or so miles away.
Today, we visited a group of carolers from Koliganek singing at Anu's house (the second grade teacher in New Stuyahok). Instead of eating a meal, she sent them to the next house with bags of chips and Chips A'hoy cookies. Traditions change slightly with time, I guess. 

 

And now a few pictures from our own Christmas celebrations:

Christmas Eve hot cocoa

 The night before Christmas, Wolfe asked me where our stockings were. In conclusion, I had to pin two of my longest socks to the wall. The two pictures on the right above are of the kids with their gifts.

Reading the story of Christmas with Josh

Qaspeq Wedensday

One of the things I am beginning to love about New Stuyahok is their traditional culture. The elders of the village push the importance of those who came before them, and teach the younger generation how to follow their old ways. I love learning about the foods, holidays, clothing, and traditions that are still continuing for years in this small village; especially when the elders are so eager to share.
An good example is qaspuq Wednesday, when students and staff are encouraged to wear their qaspuqs. You may have already seen one in older pictures of native Alaskan's with the bulky parka and hood framed with fur. Many used skins for the body part and wolf hairs for the face frame. This would keep the faces protected from the cold and frost. As years passed, these parkas transitioned into lighter material, shedding the fur and skin material to cotton hoodies with big pockets in the front, traditionally trimmed with a rick- rack design.

Seal Hunter- with Winter kuspuk and snowshoes

Within the first months of living in New Stu, I took a weekend and learned how to make a "modern" women's qaspeq at a University of Anchorage campus in Dillingham. That was fun; I learned how to make one for myself and go to a town with a grocery store. But the class never gave the history or the definition of the qaspeq for me. I even had a hard time looking up the definition. It doesn't help that many people spell it differently: qaspek, kuspuk, quspuk.  So I asked Pruney. Pruney drives the shuttle from the bush plane to the small Bistol Bay Campus university. (I asked Pruney how she got her name, thinking it was a nick name. She replied, "My mother gave it to me as soon as I was born.") Pruney (her real, given name) told me everything I wrote about a kusbuk above, and that was more than I could find online.
So I came back to New Stu with an Alaskan's modified history and my own modern kusbuk. But I wanted to make one for Ben. Finding a men's pattern was much harder. I realized that many who make these don't use patterns. But they have a knack for just looking at someone and knowing how to size a quspuk for them. So I made one for Ben using this formula [look+guess=make], and I felt very cultured. It ended up with too small of hood and the back shorter than the front. Oh well, he still wears it every Wednesday. So do many others. Here are pictures of school members and their kusbuks.

Tat is one of the Elementary yu'pik teachers

Traditional girl's kuspuks have a skirt

Robin, our school principal in her favorite color

Clay never likes his picture taken. He only agreed because I promise his efforts would educate others.

Oh look! I saved the best for last;) It's not the best kuspuk, just the best looking person!

Eskimo Icecream

For something different, I thought it'd be fun to post an Alaskan recipe.
           As a favorite of the people from New Stuyahok, this dish is referred to as "Eskimo Icecream", but the Yu'pik term is Aqutaq.You'd think that people living in Alaska would favor the warmer dishes, but this puts excitement into the villagers eyes when asked about it. And each family recipe has its own variation and popularity.
Maria, from school, loves the town's gatherings when the school cook prepares it. Kara, my cute little running friend, says her mom's Aqutaq is the best in the village. She'll bring me some when it's her birthday. Ben had a great idea of making an assignment for kids to bring in their recipes from their elders. It was the first time the students were excited about an assignment and many brought the dish in to taste.

Ben's student, Jacob

         The first time I actually saw Aqutaq was last Monday during the school's quyana night . Quyana means thank you. "You're welcome" sounds somewhat like an angry yell, and I am not quite sure how to spell that. Maybe it's, "Aang!"
Here is a picture of a dinner plate from with Aqutaq. It is in the dixie cup in the left corner.

And if you do need something to make with leftover Thanksgiving cranberry sauce, here is one basic recipe:

Aqutaq

3 cups of Crisco, or shortening

1/2 cup water

2 cups granulated sugar

1 gallon of raw cranberries, or blueberries

Directions: Stir or whip crisco in a large bowl. Gradually add water while stirring until it is creamy and fluffy add sugar and stir more. add berries 1 to 2 cups at a time until thoroughly mixed.

You might be turned off by the amount of Crisco. It is the base of the recipe, but years ago it was made with large game or seal oil and no sugar was added just fruit. Different variations that I've heard of in New Stu is adding cold white fish and some  like to add more sugar (obviously, I would too).
So bring this to your next holiday party or suggest it as a new flavor at Diary Queen (Right, Dad?!)  

All of New Stu at the school on Monday