Eight million cups of coffee and a brief stop in Juneau later, we finally arrived in Sitka where we were greeted with more stuffed bears in glass cases, and a tiny airport that reminded us of the one in Cusco, Peru sans pan flute players. We were also greeted with rain.
We checked into the world’s largest motel room (3 queen sized beds seemed a bit excessive for our needs) at the historic Sitka Hotel, changed into our rain gear, and walked a couple blocks to Little Tokyo for sushi. For small town sushi, it was pretty good. For Alaska sushi, given that Alaska has direct access to the best seafood, we were expecting more.
I didn’t want to leave the warmth of that tiny sushi place. The weather turned on and off in bursts of wind and rain. Lack of sleep started to catch up with me, and when a gust of wind blew my crappy umbrella inside out, I wanted nothing more than to retreat back to the hotel and sleep the rest of the day.
But we were in Sitka, Alaska, a town with a historic Russian and Tlingit past. The site of the ceremony in which the Russian flag was lowered and the US flag raised. Mention Sitka to an Alaskan, and he’ll tell you how much he loves the town.
