I can remember, well over a year ago now, Googling this mysterious place called “Nome, Alaska.” Admittedly, all I knew at that point was that it was at the end of the Iditarod trail and that, to my mother’s dismay, it was very far from home.
I scrolled through the images in my college apartment trying in vain to glean something of greater significance, something to tell me what it felt like to live in this place that I would soon commit a year to. That’s a lot of pressure to put on Google images. What I saw were a lot of pictures of sunshine-y beaches, a “no travel beyond this point sign” and some really expensive groceries and gas prices. A friend looking over my shoulder asked,
“But what will you do there?”
Had I trusted a Google search to present a fully accurate representation of life in Nome, I would have responded, “Sit on warm beaches eating a $6 granola bar, duh.” But I knew instinctively (and from years of media literacy courses) that Nome was much, much more than what I scrounged up in a web search, and it hasn’t stopped surprising me since.
So what is there to “do” in Nome you ask? The list is endless. As far as organized events go, Nome never seems to rest. Just in the past month or so, I’ve attended the Soup-er Bowl, two local theater productions, the Walk for Life and an Adult Prom. I’ve taught radio lessons in local schools, learned how to cut blubber to make seal oil, gone snowboarding and ice hopping.
Of course there are some days, especially during the winter months, when the weather stirs and the town settles, forcing you to do the same. And I enjoyed those days just as much. Reading, making sea glass jewelry, strumming a guitar or just enjoying the company of the wonderful people I’ve met here.
There was a sign I saw somewhere when I first arrived in Nome that said something along the lines of “Boredom is a personal problem”. And I think that’s true. Not a day has gone by here when I have felt “bored”, even in the winter lulls, even in the moments of adjusting to Nome’s unique rhythm. If I were to answer my friend’s question now of what there is to do in Nome, I could easily list off a whole schedule of community events. But I would also list some of my favorite moments here. The moments when I was “doing” nothing and therefore everything: taking in the silence atop Anvil Mountain, watching the flames of a beach bonfire dance in the company of people I now consider family, watching ice bump into the seawall. There’s plenty to do in Nome if you’re looking for that. But there’s also room to just be. And just being is often the best thing we can do.
