Airbnb is usually slow in winter. My first booking of 2024, a Russian anthropologist showed up at my door. She lived in Anchorage where she worked for the National Park Service. She's a phD in marine anthropology, which means she's a diver. Now, that's bad ass! One thing I'm terrified of is going into deep sea anything - diving, submersibles, sharks, and darkness. The required gear is claustrophobic to me. I'm cool snorkeling up to 20 feet maximum or swimming in holes where I can clearly see the exit.
The night she arrived, the anthropologist had two laptops stolen when she stopped at a gas station near the airport. One laptop included her presentation. Welcome to Oakland!
"I am in shock." She said. " We need wine!"
"I am in shock." She said. " We need wine!"
Fortunately a colleague had a back-up of her presentation. Her first night we had a nice get to know you chat over wine. I enjoy listening to women's stories; the paths and people we choose, the lives we live. She mentioned the town Sitka, Alaska which triggered a memory.
' I used to dog sit for a visiting professor at Stanford from Sitka. ' I said. ' He was cool - a charming man.'
' What was he teaching?' She asked.
' I don't remember...literature, maybe? He had a houseboat in Sitka and would go back and forth. I loved his dog, Colorado. I took him everywhere with me."
' What was his name? Was it Brandon? I think I know this professor. I lived in Sitka for a few years. Wait...he has a blog.'
She pulls up a blog on her phone and shows me a picture of the houseboat and a picture of the professor.
' No way! That's him!'
' He was lecturing in Russia on a Fulbright scholarship.' She said.
' He's a Fulbright scholar now? Wow. I have a thing for academics, artists, poets - men on boats and in the woods."
The anthologist laughed and lifted her glass. " Vashe zdorov'ye to the boys!"
After that, my enchantment with her was a bit of a struggle. She opened up immediately that she was going through a divorce after 25 years of marriage, two of which husband been in a relationship with someone else. She seemed sad under the hustle and bustle of the conference she was in town to attend. They had agreed that she would keep the house in Anchorage.
"You're the wrong color for Russia.' She said. ' I was shocked with this show. Black people in Russia?! You never see this."
Okay....I felt my face make that squirm response expression.
With more wine she shared an anecdote about a black dude who approached her and got her a drink at a bar in DC. Apparently they talked about Bridgerton. I'm struck that the racist patriarchy can get into an academic's head at all. A phD should be immune to any of it.
Her comments were not boding well for her as a person. I have a hard rule that when I hear such things, I stop sharing and shift to listening. It's useless, really. The possibility of sisterhood disintegrates. She will keep tussling her hair. Then it's every black dude in a bar wants a blonde story. They always have such anecdotes and myself the misfortune of listening to them. In the realm of straight women, it's the implication of competition.
Airbnb is always a roll of the dice, moments with people that can go good or bad. Most guests have been super cool, a few walk in with their burdens and heartbreak. People. I thought, be kind and patient with the marine anthropologist.
' I used to dog sit for a visiting professor at Stanford from Sitka. ' I said. ' He was cool - a charming man.'
' What was he teaching?' She asked.
' I don't remember...literature, maybe? He had a houseboat in Sitka and would go back and forth. I loved his dog, Colorado. I took him everywhere with me."
' What was his name? Was it Brandon? I think I know this professor. I lived in Sitka for a few years. Wait...he has a blog.'
She pulls up a blog on her phone and shows me a picture of the houseboat and a picture of the professor.
' No way! That's him!'
' He was lecturing in Russia on a Fulbright scholarship.' She said.
' He's a Fulbright scholar now? Wow. I have a thing for academics, artists, poets - men on boats and in the woods."
The anthologist laughed and lifted her glass. " Vashe zdorov'ye to the boys!"
After that, my enchantment with her was a bit of a struggle. She opened up immediately that she was going through a divorce after 25 years of marriage, two of which husband been in a relationship with someone else. She seemed sad under the hustle and bustle of the conference she was in town to attend. They had agreed that she would keep the house in Anchorage.
Then she talked about Russia. She was fascinated with Bridgerton, a historical-fiction series I've never seen except images and snippets. Many women in the cast of Bridgerton are black playing Regency period nobility.
With more wine she shared an anecdote about a black dude who approached her and got her a drink at a bar in DC. Apparently they talked about Bridgerton. I'm struck that the racist patriarchy can get into an academic's head at all. A phD should be immune to any of it.
Her comments were not boding well for her as a person. I have a hard rule that when I hear such things, I stop sharing and shift to listening. It's useless, really. The possibility of sisterhood disintegrates. She will keep tussling her hair. Then it's every black dude in a bar wants a blonde story. They always have such anecdotes and myself the misfortune of listening to them. In the realm of straight women, it's the implication of competition.
Her habits underlied a woman grappling with too much, distracted. Abandoned bowls left out on the counter, my bath towel used after a shower, regular requests for things that could be found in my guest tips and tricks. I don't even share towels with someone I'm sleeping with.
Let me think. Okay, maybe once...in my 30s. After that period I had acquired more insight about microorganisms that thrive on the human body.
Well, who among us has got it together when going through heavy things and loss? I'm a mess in such a state myself. I have a hard time being productive when I'm internally lost in grief. Sometimes going forward alone can be unbearably sad and bereft.
Airbnb is always a roll of the dice, moments with people that can go good or bad. Most guests have been super cool, a few walk in with their burdens and heartbreak. People. I thought, be kind and patient with the marine anthropologist.
Then she did a positive thing when she checked out. I forgave her inappropriate comments. When I got up, I found a gracious thank you note, plus cash for the extra night she needed, and an Our Lady of Kazan art card from Russia. The Lady of Kazan is the patron saint of a town near St. Petersburg. Legend has it that the lady would protect Russia against the Bolsheviks as well as travellers on their journey.
What I never told the anthropologist is that I have been fascinated with iconography of the Madonna in antiquity. I have a tattoo of her on my leg, symbolic of Oshun, the queen high mother in the African pantheon.
One day I plan to visit Sitka, Alaska and cross the Bering Sea to Russia where my color may be wrong.
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