Alaska: Anchorage

Oh, how I have missed blogging. I would have blogged every day of this strange and fascinating vacation if internet connections had been more reliable in some of our farflung destinations -- and if the food had been more noteworthy. Mostly, our Alaskan meals have involved overflowing plastic baskets of frozen crinkle-cut french fries, soupy cole slaw, and Coffee-mate. 

But here's my question: If the food is so crummy why am I returning home resembling one of the ectoplasmic humanoids from Wall-E ?

I think we know the answer: I am a fool for frozen crinkle-cut french fries.

 

Today, I lunched on caribou stew. Okay, not a high point, but worth a try and a photograph (see right.) We also watched a film about an Eskimo whale hunt in which the raw whale -- sliced on screen, on the beach -- resembled the most beautiful, pale pink sushi. Everyone else in the audience was gasping and hiding their eyes and I was thinking, hmm. . . . it looks kind of appetizing.

Yes, I was ashamed of myself.