Our last day in Anchorage was another relaxing and fun one, with a late rise around 9 am, late but still pre-sunrise, so we got to enjoy the lights of the christmas tree one more time. After breakfast, we headed out to enjoy an afternoon of lounging around at a caf?. First, we had to check out Anchorage’s first official roundabout – a big deal, in a land of otherwise fairtly unsophisticated urban planning and street layout. It’s a fairly simple affair, replacing a traditional intersection between a cross-street and the on- and off-ramps of the highway. As you come off the highway, a sign warns of the roundabout ahead, but even better, after the experience is over, a sign directs drivers to alaskaroundabouts.com for “driving tips,” including some excellent flash simulations and links to more roundabout information. I suppose it would be a little distracting if it were noted before the roundabout, but the sign’s location afterwards seems a little late, as though it’s saying “[if you can read this, you made it through and probably don’t need to visit] akroundabouts.com.” Sorry about the blur of the photos; thanks to Aimee for doing her best while we drove through.

Our first caf? stop, Kaladi’s at New Sagaya, was packed with the lunch crowd, so we headed to Caf? Del Mundo, home of a more relaxed scene, big tables to spread out our stuff on, and Dad, walking out after a lunch meeting. He was headed to Kaladi’s, of course, as it was Thursday, time for a new Anchorage Press, a mocha, and two cookies. What a regimen.

Aimee and I enjoyed our teas and read – I continued to enjoy the massive Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell, thanks to Nell, my Secret Santa at the Browns’ christmas celebration. It’s really engaging, though I’m a hundred pages in and haven’t met Mr Norrell yet. I like the fact that it’s written in a very specific style, even down to spelling (“surprize,” “sopha”) and punctuation (no period after “Mr” or “Mrs”).

We returned home to pack, with a weird pit-stop for lunch at an out-of-the-way lunch spot that was a mess of contradictions – nice atmosphere but overpriced food, tasty sandwich but mold on the cheese – and was a overall underwhelming. Much more exciting was the moose sighting on the way home. We were just a few streets from my house when Aimee spotted – a big horse? no – a moose, chomping intently on the lowest branches of a few trees in the otherwise empty yard of a big house on the corner of the road.

We pulled over and watched for awhile, happily playing tourists, as one other car did, while others drove by, jaded by daily moose spottings all year round. We watched for quite some time, fascinated by her huge size and her ability to point her head completely vertical to reach the branches.

The big event for the evening was a neighborhood holiday party at a house up the hill from us. Now, some of our best family friends in Anchorage live in the neighborhood, but I can’t say I’ve ever been to a neighborhood party, nor do I think I would know anyone at such a party. And I was right; I only recognized two faces, and that was once my mom told me who they were. But boy was it worth it to go to this party. It was held at one of the two massive houses on this street, known to me as “the one without the huge swimming pool.” This house, ostentatious from the street, becomes utterly unbelievable once you’re inside.

As we walked down the heated driveway, past the four-car garage, and approached the massive entryway flanked by columns and topped with a massive glass etching of Denali, Aimee and I got a quick catch-up on who lived there: a recently un-retired doctor and his wife, in their 70s, who built the house four years ago. The couple, especially the wife, were the most unassuming people, hosting the party in a Christmas-themed sweatsuit and slippers. They have no young kids, no grand-kids, no long-term guests, just the two of them. In a multi-million dollar house, with a swimming pool (with electric sliding pool cover), a hot tub, an exercise room, three guest bedrooms, an elevator, a separate furnace for each floor, and some of the ugliest interior decoration I can remember. We got a tour of the place, and it was one jaw-dropper after another. A his and her’s office, the shelves lined with shrink-wrapped Time-Life classic music LP sets. A library filled with Reader’s Digest Condensed books and bound volumes of National Geographic. His and her’s walk-in closets, which the Latvian exchange student who was at the party compared favorably to his last apartment, and a master bathroom with bidet, tv, and heated towel racks. I think the most surprising thing about it all was that it was in Alaska; it just felt like it belonged somewhere else. But every time you looked out one of the massive floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room, you were reminded of exactly where it was. The gossip was that it was up for sale – I wonder who the intended market is?

After the party, we headed back down the hill to the house and enjoyed a delicious dinner of king crab, followed by a little cornet duet, which was my first time picking up a horn in about eight years. I was totally rusty and had no endurance whatsoever, but the fingerings all came back, and it was certainly fun. After a round of Mountaineering Monopoly (Mom won, Dad almost went broke), we headed to the airport for the ultra-redeye, the 2:39 am to Seattle. A brief trip, but wonderful nonetheless.