thirsty?
10/23/04
10:40 PM
I’m back in my room after a short night of barhopping in Antarctica. After dinner, we went to the “non-smoking” bar called Galligher’s for a few beers. Speight’s Gold to be precise – a New Zealand brew, the self-titled “Three Star Beer”. We had a few rounds. Kate opted out and instead took shots of tequila “with training wheels”, meaning the bartender gave her a saltshaker and some lemon juice in a small cup. Limes haven't come in yet. We played some air hockey. I cleaned house. I love that game. I was perfectly happy there, but more people started to show up and it was getting crowded and noisy. I think it is more of a place for the workers to take off their carharts, drink beer and unwind. Adam looked uncomfortable. He suggested we leave to go to The Coffee House – one of the other three bars - a little coffee shop and wine bar. When we walked in I understood. It was more of the scientist crowd or at least the “high society” of McMurdo. At first, I was hesitant and felt a little uneasy. A lot of people drinking wine. It was in this little wooden halfpipe. I can’t remember the actual name of that particular type of building, but they're really warm and do well in harsh conditions. A band named Soup was playing there tonight. They were pretty bad. The started off with a Floyd cover and then moved into very slow, drawn out, crappy acoustic music. Ok, so it wasn’t that bad. During the first song, I kind of got lost in the moment. I forgot about everything else. Then after a few minutes, when I started thinking about where I was, it made me happy and I realized that for those people who live and work at McMurdo, this is all they have to get away for a night. It could have been any little bar in a small town, USA. Inside you couldn’t tell the difference. It is their way to feel normal, to forget about the bitter cold and lack of civilization for a few hours. The social dynamic was interesting as well. A lot of dudes. A few women.
Anyway. Soup. We ended up looking at the cheesy romantic novels on the bookcase next to us before their set was over. Adam left early. There was talk about getting another bottle of wine, but nothing ever came of it and we left early. I’m definitely with older people - nobody wants to stay up late.
At lunch yesterday, I left my parka on one of the community coat racks and when I went to pick it up, there were two coronas in one of the pockets. I threw them in the room fridge. Later that night when I got back from Crary I offered one to Matt. I pulled them out of the fridge to find that they were still warm. The fridge was unplugged and smelled like ass. We drank them anyway and talked for a little while.
Matt and I have two new roommates who just got in from the Pole. They had wintered there for over 7 months. The same three buildings, the same 70 people – for seven months. I can’t imagine. Last night when I got back, someone else’s stuff was in our room. At about 11:30, after I had gone to bed, I hear someone come into the room and climb up onto the bunk above me. When I woke up this morning, there was a scary looking dude on the couch putting on his boots. I looked up at his bed – no sheets and a briefcase as a pillow. Hardcore. His name is Byron.
I met the other new roommate this afternoon. His name is Donald. He is the chef from the South Pole station. We talked for about an hour. He is from Baltimore and was on a submarine for 20 years. He’s been all over the world. This was his third year in Antarctica, but he claims it is his last. During our conversation, he kept coming back to how much play he was going to get and how he couldn’t wait to get to Christchurch and Bangkok for the hookers. It was funny. I couldn’t tell how much was real and how much was stretched or just plain out false. Regardless, it was an entertaining conversation with an interesting person. We talked about crabs (the kind you eat), baseball, football, Antarctica, women, Tennessee (and the country line dancing bars), traveling and drinking among other things.
I saw two crab seals today. We stopped into Crary to fill out some paperwork, and from the second story computer lab, we could see a pair of seals on the sea ice, not too far from the base. They were just laying around, soaking up the sun. I wish we could have seen them up close. Apparently they knaw through cracks in the ice using their lower teeth to make a hole to squeeze through. And when they get older and their teeth are so worn down that they can no longer make holes, they die.
We took a walk down to Scott’s hut this afternoon. It was a beautiful day. The hut is in pristine condition, the same way that they left it in 1902. Crazy to think that over 100 years ago, people were already building permanent establishments down here. They came here in sailboats that could break through the sea ice in the late summer. There was a dead seal sitting outside the hut, lying on some scrap canvas that had been preserved by the cold. You could still see its whiskers and flippers. It was as if they had killed it yesterday. We couldn’t get inside because it was locked (we forgot to get the key before we left), but could peer in through the windows. Everything is just as it was when they left. Food, furs, sleds, tables, stoves, everything. A snapshot into the early days of Antarctic exploration. Not too far from the hut is Vince’s cross. Apparently one of the men drowned nearby, so they built a 6’ wooden cross for him on top of a small hill.
Donald said something earlier in the afternoon along the lines of “if all of this ice melted, you’d find bodies everywhere – people, dogs, horses, all sorts of animals”. He’s right. Who knows how many people and animals have just disappeared, fallen in crevasses or frozen to death over the past century. Nowadays, the chances are really slim, but before the days of radio and GPS, it was a serious risk.
So it turns out we couldn’t get the helicopter flights out to McMurdo until Tuesday. It sucks, but at least takes a little pressure off and gives us a weekday to take care of stuff like laundry and last phone calls. I have a feeling that we are going to get pretty bored tomorrow. At least we can watch the world series. And I can get one more post in before I'm cut off from communication.
I felt awful this morning and thought that I was coming down with the crud (how they refer to a cold around here). I was overtired and after a little nap before lunch, I felt even worse. I couldn’t eat much. I kept feeling like I was going to throw up. But after relaxing for a little while and talking with Donald, I felt much better. I forced fluids all day. Mom would be proud. We’ll see how I feel again tomorrow morning. I really hope I’m not sick. Maybe I just need a good night’s rest.
I started looking through one of Matt’s photo books earlier this afternoon. It was a collection of photos from the guy who took the famous National Geographic cover of the Afghan girl with the eyes. He is an incredible photographer (the book photographer, not Matt, although I haven't seen Matt's photos). And the material he was working with is equally as incredible. It made me feel very fortunate for what I have.
And then tonight Doug, Kate and Adam were bitching about Dave (their advisor) and the shitty social life as a grad student for at least an hour. I just sat there silent. It was really weird. I thought about getting up and leaving. They didn’t even look at me or make an attempt to include me in the conversation. At one point they acknowledged me and I spoke my mind. I told them that I had actively avoided the grad student social scene because of what they were doing. That is all grad students ever talk about, their conversations almost always devolve into bashing their advisors in some way or another. I told them that I understand why it happens, I’ve done it myself before - it is the one thing that they all have in common so it is very natural to talk about it, but that it gets old to sit there and listen to it. They agreed with me and continued to do it. Whatever. I’ll be there in a year. Maybe I’ll understand more then. It was just interesting to juxtapose a malnourished child in Nigeria with three, well-fed, whiney, educated Americans who have nothing better to do (or at least, no problems large enough) than to sit there and bash the man who pays them and got them to Antarctica in the first place. It seems very disrespectful. Maybe I’m just trying to criticize. Fuck. I don’t know. I’m going to bed.
A view of McMurdo station. The hut in the foreground is Scott's hut. They built it in 1902. Apparently it is the archetectural style used by Australian sheep herders and is ideal for blocking low sun and keeping a constant temperature within (because it is always in the shade)
Vince's cross.
A view from Crary at around 11:30 pm. A beautiful Antarctic sunset (about as low as the sun gets at this point in the year).
10:40 PM
I’m back in my room after a short night of barhopping in Antarctica. After dinner, we went to the “non-smoking” bar called Galligher’s for a few beers. Speight’s Gold to be precise – a New Zealand brew, the self-titled “Three Star Beer”. We had a few rounds. Kate opted out and instead took shots of tequila “with training wheels”, meaning the bartender gave her a saltshaker and some lemon juice in a small cup. Limes haven't come in yet. We played some air hockey. I cleaned house. I love that game. I was perfectly happy there, but more people started to show up and it was getting crowded and noisy. I think it is more of a place for the workers to take off their carharts, drink beer and unwind. Adam looked uncomfortable. He suggested we leave to go to The Coffee House – one of the other three bars - a little coffee shop and wine bar. When we walked in I understood. It was more of the scientist crowd or at least the “high society” of McMurdo. At first, I was hesitant and felt a little uneasy. A lot of people drinking wine. It was in this little wooden halfpipe. I can’t remember the actual name of that particular type of building, but they're really warm and do well in harsh conditions. A band named Soup was playing there tonight. They were pretty bad. The started off with a Floyd cover and then moved into very slow, drawn out, crappy acoustic music. Ok, so it wasn’t that bad. During the first song, I kind of got lost in the moment. I forgot about everything else. Then after a few minutes, when I started thinking about where I was, it made me happy and I realized that for those people who live and work at McMurdo, this is all they have to get away for a night. It could have been any little bar in a small town, USA. Inside you couldn’t tell the difference. It is their way to feel normal, to forget about the bitter cold and lack of civilization for a few hours. The social dynamic was interesting as well. A lot of dudes. A few women.
Anyway. Soup. We ended up looking at the cheesy romantic novels on the bookcase next to us before their set was over. Adam left early. There was talk about getting another bottle of wine, but nothing ever came of it and we left early. I’m definitely with older people - nobody wants to stay up late.
At lunch yesterday, I left my parka on one of the community coat racks and when I went to pick it up, there were two coronas in one of the pockets. I threw them in the room fridge. Later that night when I got back from Crary I offered one to Matt. I pulled them out of the fridge to find that they were still warm. The fridge was unplugged and smelled like ass. We drank them anyway and talked for a little while.
Matt and I have two new roommates who just got in from the Pole. They had wintered there for over 7 months. The same three buildings, the same 70 people – for seven months. I can’t imagine. Last night when I got back, someone else’s stuff was in our room. At about 11:30, after I had gone to bed, I hear someone come into the room and climb up onto the bunk above me. When I woke up this morning, there was a scary looking dude on the couch putting on his boots. I looked up at his bed – no sheets and a briefcase as a pillow. Hardcore. His name is Byron.
I met the other new roommate this afternoon. His name is Donald. He is the chef from the South Pole station. We talked for about an hour. He is from Baltimore and was on a submarine for 20 years. He’s been all over the world. This was his third year in Antarctica, but he claims it is his last. During our conversation, he kept coming back to how much play he was going to get and how he couldn’t wait to get to Christchurch and Bangkok for the hookers. It was funny. I couldn’t tell how much was real and how much was stretched or just plain out false. Regardless, it was an entertaining conversation with an interesting person. We talked about crabs (the kind you eat), baseball, football, Antarctica, women, Tennessee (and the country line dancing bars), traveling and drinking among other things.
I saw two crab seals today. We stopped into Crary to fill out some paperwork, and from the second story computer lab, we could see a pair of seals on the sea ice, not too far from the base. They were just laying around, soaking up the sun. I wish we could have seen them up close. Apparently they knaw through cracks in the ice using their lower teeth to make a hole to squeeze through. And when they get older and their teeth are so worn down that they can no longer make holes, they die.
We took a walk down to Scott’s hut this afternoon. It was a beautiful day. The hut is in pristine condition, the same way that they left it in 1902. Crazy to think that over 100 years ago, people were already building permanent establishments down here. They came here in sailboats that could break through the sea ice in the late summer. There was a dead seal sitting outside the hut, lying on some scrap canvas that had been preserved by the cold. You could still see its whiskers and flippers. It was as if they had killed it yesterday. We couldn’t get inside because it was locked (we forgot to get the key before we left), but could peer in through the windows. Everything is just as it was when they left. Food, furs, sleds, tables, stoves, everything. A snapshot into the early days of Antarctic exploration. Not too far from the hut is Vince’s cross. Apparently one of the men drowned nearby, so they built a 6’ wooden cross for him on top of a small hill.
Donald said something earlier in the afternoon along the lines of “if all of this ice melted, you’d find bodies everywhere – people, dogs, horses, all sorts of animals”. He’s right. Who knows how many people and animals have just disappeared, fallen in crevasses or frozen to death over the past century. Nowadays, the chances are really slim, but before the days of radio and GPS, it was a serious risk.
So it turns out we couldn’t get the helicopter flights out to McMurdo until Tuesday. It sucks, but at least takes a little pressure off and gives us a weekday to take care of stuff like laundry and last phone calls. I have a feeling that we are going to get pretty bored tomorrow. At least we can watch the world series. And I can get one more post in before I'm cut off from communication.
I felt awful this morning and thought that I was coming down with the crud (how they refer to a cold around here). I was overtired and after a little nap before lunch, I felt even worse. I couldn’t eat much. I kept feeling like I was going to throw up. But after relaxing for a little while and talking with Donald, I felt much better. I forced fluids all day. Mom would be proud. We’ll see how I feel again tomorrow morning. I really hope I’m not sick. Maybe I just need a good night’s rest.
I started looking through one of Matt’s photo books earlier this afternoon. It was a collection of photos from the guy who took the famous National Geographic cover of the Afghan girl with the eyes. He is an incredible photographer (the book photographer, not Matt, although I haven't seen Matt's photos). And the material he was working with is equally as incredible. It made me feel very fortunate for what I have.
And then tonight Doug, Kate and Adam were bitching about Dave (their advisor) and the shitty social life as a grad student for at least an hour. I just sat there silent. It was really weird. I thought about getting up and leaving. They didn’t even look at me or make an attempt to include me in the conversation. At one point they acknowledged me and I spoke my mind. I told them that I had actively avoided the grad student social scene because of what they were doing. That is all grad students ever talk about, their conversations almost always devolve into bashing their advisors in some way or another. I told them that I understand why it happens, I’ve done it myself before - it is the one thing that they all have in common so it is very natural to talk about it, but that it gets old to sit there and listen to it. They agreed with me and continued to do it. Whatever. I’ll be there in a year. Maybe I’ll understand more then. It was just interesting to juxtapose a malnourished child in Nigeria with three, well-fed, whiney, educated Americans who have nothing better to do (or at least, no problems large enough) than to sit there and bash the man who pays them and got them to Antarctica in the first place. It seems very disrespectful. Maybe I’m just trying to criticize. Fuck. I don’t know. I’m going to bed.
A view of McMurdo station. The hut in the foreground is Scott's hut. They built it in 1902. Apparently it is the archetectural style used by Australian sheep herders and is ideal for blocking low sun and keeping a constant temperature within (because it is always in the shade)
Vince's cross.
A view from Crary at around 11:30 pm. A beautiful Antarctic sunset (about as low as the sun gets at this point in the year).
posted by LankyPoobah at 10:40 PM
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