Text 31232, 81 rader
Skriven 2015-09-23 15:39:38 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: AK 283
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We tried to get Bill to join us and the crowd at the Alaska State 
Fair, but he pled stuff to do (perhaps being mindful of having
been present on that infamous occasion when I was propelled 
airborne out of the Sluice Box by a bouncer). Anyhow, it's an
easy drive up the Glenn (I think) Highway to the fairgrounds in
Palmer, where we surprisingly found a traffic jam just after the
Parks turnoff, followed by a big old line for parking. Which was
fine as I didn't mind sparing my ears the prelims of the fiddle 
contest! which we arrived at the beginning of the final round,
which was fine. It's a competition for teens, and I spent much
of my time jumping up and down (mentally) and wishing I could 
get my hands on these kids to give them lessons (normally I
always hated teaching). Lilli and I got bored, and after the
last finalist we skedaddled to The Gathering Place for a dose
of native music and dance. Which ended up enthralling us to the
degree that we spent two hours there, thus missing the friends
we had planned to see - I'd hoped they'd at least put in an
appearance at arguably the most worthwhile part of the fair,
unless you're heavily into donuts and other fried things.

The Cupit Yurartet (I originally read Quartet) is a group
dedicated to preserving Cup'ik Eskimo dance and the traditional
culture of, well, about where we'd just escaped from. It's a
rustic art with a substantial visceral appeal, and though I was
initially not impressed, it ended up capturing my attention if
not all of my heart. I could have been endangering that organ
with fried ice cream or the like, but I was saved perhaps by
the group. At the interval we went to investigate the native
arts stalls (hugely expensive) and the fried halibut and
steamed king crab stand, which offered nothing we could afford
- we are not PFD recipients, after all.

After which we got to see Lepquinm Gumilgit Gagoadim Dancers, a
group of Tsimshian (fairly local) extraction, and thus big city
sophisticated in the same degree that their predecessors were
charmingly rustic. Their thematic material was more complex,
their costumes were eye-catcing where the others were subdued,
their dances energetic. I got the distinct feeling that they
were also somewhat culturally watered down, though I guess the
majority of the public would prefer it this way. So it goes.

There was a bit of a break, so we went off to see some farm
products, of which a huge knobby kohlrabi and an I believe
Pekin duck particularly captivated me, the former for its
hideousness, the latter for its seeming delusion that I was
coveting its mate (wrong - I was actually coveting its meat,
but trust ducks for not being able to spel). Giant cabbages, 
pumpkins, zucchini, and hogs completed the vegetable pageant.

We encountered Vija, an old buddy, on the midway, but she
was on her way out; we were heading to the Birdman show, but
first a peek into the SBS Woodlot Stage to catch the preliminary
round of Alaska's Got Talent. Wellll ... I'm not sure if Alaska
has talent, but it's clear that the state has leather lungs and
a ton of hubris.

Lilli was hungry, so we ducked into a tent run by some Catholic
church that offered burgers and dogs. One thing about being
nonreligious is that one doesn't discrimination based on sect.
She got a dog with mustard and relish. It was horrid. One thing 
about not being so nonreligious as all that is that one doesn't 
get suckered into eating horrid hot dogs. Back to the midway. 

The Birdman has an interesting history. Apparently he is
enamored of condors (smelly buzzard-like critters) and has made
a good career out of advocating their cause and training them
to show off for an awestruck public. Anyhow, he gave an fun
demonstration that those birdbrains can seem impressively 
intelligent at times, unlike us humans. We were thoroughly
entertained.

The Wine Bar was right near the exit and called our name. We
had the Ernesto Catena Malbec, actually pretty impressive, and
the Penfold's Bin 9 Cabernet (the Bin 8 Shiraz-Cabernet listed 
on the menu was off), which had a good brambly black peppery
aspect. Not hugely overpriced, either.

After a suitable interval for sobering up, it was home time,
and we got back before Bill's bedtime.
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