Too late to shit myself. In my hotel now in Duluth. My last day of comfort for 12 weeks before I get picked up tomorrow. Then a couple of hours being driven. To. Bears. Then bears. And bears. And bears. Then. Six more days in Minneapolis. Then home. 

Fuck me, will I go berserk in Minneapolis. Expensive hotel to start with. One that will have the fastest internet connection me Apple can take. Coz there is a hell of a lot of porn I’m gonna have to catch up with. 

When I landed in Twin Cities (i.e. Minneapolis and Saint Paul) earlier, it looked well inviting from the air. Add to that all the good things I have heard and read about its nightlife. Boy oh boy, am I gonna go clubbing there. And eating. And pulling. Should be easy. English-ish accent, a body toned to fuck after all the hard labour for three months and some chat-up chat that will captivate an audience otherwise always bored but feels obliged to listen to. I mean already here everyone is dead-impressed with what I’m about to do. You see, and maybe it’s because I have only ever landed in Philadelphia and New York, but usually border control officers are absolute arseholes. They scare the living, frying, flying fuck out-a-ya. Try to. And in my case, they always succeed. 

Not so here, especially when he found out what I was here for. 

Then the guy next to me on the plane to Duluth. 

Then the taxi driver. 

Then the hotel receptionist. 

Then some fellow guests.

 

I was given some advice. 

Moose. 

Apparently it is best to stay clear of them. Calving season and mothers will go for the human kill when bumping into one of us. 

 

The taxi driver told me I was gonna go and live into proper wildlife territory. People from Minneapolis consider Duluth way out in the jungle. People from Duluth consider Northern Minnesota way out in the jungle. People from Belgium consider Northumberland National Park way out in the jungle. 

Can’t fucking wait.

 

…

 

Good being back here. It’s been a couple of years. That unique, charming, slightly off-putting combination Americans have of helpfulness, friendliness, openness, naivety and at-first-not-saying-what-they-really-think. That going into a liquor store buying 12 cans of cold beer, waiting for the check-out person to ask for your id. 

But she didn’t. 

And I was disappointed. 

“Love the accent,” she said. And winked. 

Felt less disappointed.

 

…

 

I made a mistake not taking my camera on the way to the essential supplies shop, no store, for my last day of drinking in solitude, listening to music, writing in peace. In 15 minutes time, I came across so many photographable opportunities. The USA for you, I suppose. For one, the largest Star and Stripes I have ever seen. Having said that, would be a bit of a cliche. To post a picture of the American flag. Having said that, I do cliches extremely well. And proud of it. Having said that photography and Husten are not the best of matches. Can’t and won’t make that mistake with the bears tho. Promise.

 

…

 

Saw something really touching. Noticed a young, white, about 20-ish, American soldier getting on my flight from Minneapolis to Duluth. Blond, crew-cut hairstyle. Dark, tired eyes. Tall. Built like a brick-house. Full of muscle. Flew first class. Which surprised me. In proper beige, desert military gear. Was welcomed by his family and friends as he and I entered the arrivals hall. He sank to his knees. Stretched his arms out as open and wide as he could. With lots of family members pouring in. His friends stayed behind and waited coz there was not enough room even for his big arms. They didn’t cry though. Didn’t shed any tears. Didn’t even seem relieved. To see him. Happy, of course, but all very restrained. Just accepting. Duty and all that. For that massive Stars and Stripes I did not take a picture of earlier.

 

…

 

Tomorrow Day 1. Will see my so beloved bears, and hopefully beloved fellow volunteers for the first time. Will sink to my knees and make my puny arms as big as possible. Will also have to sit the exam to become a qualified American Bear Educator otherwise it’s me flying back home. Not shitting meself. I know me bear stuff tho will still need to revise one or two things tomorrow morning before getting picked up. Did you know for example that female bears, sows, have cubs through a biological process called “delayed implantation”? I am not gonna give you the details now. Quite sure, I will bore you with this later this month.

 

…

 

People are missing me. I know they are. I mean this with every fibre, natural or artificial, in my body: I don’t understand why. If anything, it’s only three months.

 

…

 

Just a sentimental note to Jaakie, Para and Toonen. When my plane was making the final stages of its descent into Minneapolis, just had to listen to Hüsker Dü. Didn’t choose a particular song. Just let my iPod do what’s it good at. I landed on “She Floated Away”.

 

Will let you know in three months’ time what Replacements song my iPod will be playing when taking off for home.