September 17, 2002

• Any report I make on our weekend getaway is going to sound like a commercial for the Talkeetna Alaskan Lodge.  I love the place.  So does Greyfox.  We both expressed some regret at not having taken pictures of our meals there before we ate them.  The menus offered a good variety of selections.  The food consisted of fine ingredients, well-prepared and beautifully presented.  The service was excellent, no complaints at all–and we are professional kvetches, here.

  
  

  The management has chosen a staff whose members come from all over the map, which is evident from their speech and accents. 

  
  

  Over breakfast yesterday, when Greyfox turned to me for the proper West Coast “over easy” terminology for how he likes his eggs (it’s called “over light” where he comes from), the waitress understood perfectly the East Coast/West Coast language divide.  She is from Alaska and her boyfriend is from New Jersey. 

  
  

  A business such as this one could turn into a miserable failure if it depended on local people to staff it.  The labor pool is too small, and our local population tends to be less “snappy”, for want of a better term, than the norm.  In other words, we are largely a bunch of non-servile bushrats, poor prospects for success in service industries.

  
  

  Many of the staff are now in the process of leaving to go back either to school or to homes which are mostly in the warmer southern states.  I talked to two women from the Deep South who work here in the summer to escape the heat at home.  Sounds like a good way to live, and they seem to love it.

  
  

  I was impressed at the way the staff met and often anticipated our needs while maintaining an easy and humorous informality.  It is not simple providing such service without fawning, without dehumanizing oneself or those one is serving.  Everyone there did it with flair.  From all I observed, staff morale seemed to be high.  This is in marked contrast to the perfunctory verging on surly service we’ve received a few miles away at a hotel run by Princess Cruises.  Avoid Princess at all costs, folks.  I don’t think they care a whit for repeat customers.  Once they get you in their clutches, you’re their captive and you take whatever shit they hand you.  Complaints are met with a blank stare or sarcastic smirk.

  
  

  Even my “new” used car, Streak, seemed to enjoy the trip.  I know I enjoyed the plentiful provision of handicapped parking spaces right by the doors.  That’s Streak himself, in the shot to the right.

  
  

  I guess you can tell that I liked the flowers we found planted everywhere.  Frost had already touched many of the plantings around the grounds and drives, but the tubs and planter boxes in sheltered areas around the lodge were still in spectacular full bloom.  Gardeners from warmer climates will appreciate what the Alaskan climate does for begonias.  In most temperate areas, begonias are early-spring, cool temperature bloomers.  Here, they last all summer and bloom like crazy.

  
  

  Begonias are my favorite flowers, since I’m allergic to gardenias, roses and a lot of others that might otherwise be favorites.

  
  

  Well, if you waited for all these photos to load and were hoping for a story to compensate you for your time, I apologize.  I have one more of these photo-rich blogs “in the can”, about our trip to the Historical Museum.  Gimme a few comments on this one, and then I’ll get that one out of the way and try to get back on track with the memoirs.  When Doug wakes this afternoon, I think I may try to coax him back onto the roof for a little work.

  • 2:49 pm
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