I still haven't cried. I can't say that I'm entirely charmed by Fort McMurray, but it's endurable. My fieldwork seems to be moving ahead at an acceptable pace, and my best friend (my television) always welcomes me back to my still-smelly room.

I took a trip back home to get all the things I realized I needed. One pair of shoes in a muddy camp didn't really cut it, nor did my one pillow. Not wanting to tempt fate, I took the Greyhound back to Edmonton. While waiting for my bus, the stock screaming child appeared, and didn't stop yelling until I got off the bus. She seemed big enough to be able to make words, but instead just announced "AAAHH!" every couple of minutes. Her father didn't seem to be used to handling her and her brother alone, and mostly just looked in any direction but toward the lovely girl. On the way there I got a call from my stepmom telling me that she had to go out of town, so instead of a little break in my apartment visiting friends, I stayed in St. Albert dogsitting, not much of a change from sitting by myself in my room. I returned to Fort McMurray without my fill of relaxed socialization, but did have the supplies that I needed.

On the next day back, I conducted a series of interviews with local union members. The union president was kind enough to set these up for me during a Directors' meeting. I came prepared with brownies and juice, but nobody was very interested in them-coupled with my new dependence on driving, the brownies are leaving their impression on my backside. The interviews went well, and all the participants were very helpful. Results were somewhat mixed. Some people expressed a lot of concern about the health risks associated with working in the plants, and felt that others probably had the same misgivings. Others felt that the majority of people here are not too concerned with health, but rather on making enough money to buy nice toys and retire early somewhere else. A few felt that people here are afraid to voice their concerns for fear of losing their jobs or suffering other consequences, and thought that the plants up here get away with violating provincial environmental regulations due to their isolation from larger populations and lax inspection and enforcement on the part of the province. I haven't yet looked into what exactly the regulations are, but it seems that I should. I'd also like to find out just what the province's obligations are in terms of inspections. Such a project would be immensely simplified by having my own phone and a free internet connection that's faster than walking to the provincial building, but the library and its $2.50/hour internet will have to suffice.

The library computers are interesting. They have signs above them announcing that Suncor and Atco have provided them; I would have that in addition to six second-hand computers, the two energy giants would be able to afford the internet connection, as well. As they are always busy, though, I imagine that the library is making some profit off them. There is one other place for the public to use the internet (at least that's all I've been able to find), but the owner charges six or seven dollars an hour and the environment is much creepier than the library.

I think I encountered my second anthropological-field-tale-stereotype. My first, "Rob," got tired of competing for jobs and left town, leaving me bereft of my unexpected-helper character. This new stereotype is the guy-who-lies-about-stuff. He came into the Friendship Centre and started talking to me about his life and his connection to the Centre (which remains to be substantiated). Now, I may have fumbled my way through my first year as a graduate student, but I am clever enough to know that people do not generally have a Master's degree as well as a PhD by the time they're 23--especially when said degrees are in something vaguely defined as "computers" and have been granted by NAIT. But people who lie about stuff sometimes tell some great stories, so I decided to do an interview with him. He certainly enjoyed the opportunity to misuse big words, and had a lot to say. Interestingly, he felt that doctors give Aboriginal people here preferential treatment; this opinion is certainly not shared by Aboriginal people. I considered not including his interview in my analysis, but since I'm not really interested in hearing only from industry experts, I think I will keep it in as an example of a character who wants to be heard, regardless of the veracity of his statements.

The Friendship Centre is getting ready for National Aboriginal Day celebrations on June 21. This is the first time the Centre is doing anything to mark the day, and the plans seem interesting. They will have local artists and videos, games and a feast. Elders from Fort MacKay are getting bussed in, and some school children are expected to come, as well as other locals. This should be a good event for finding interview subjects, and I am scheduled to do some volunteer work; apparently I look like someone who is good with technology, so I will be in charge of running the videos. One of these videos is by a woman from Fort MacKay who had worked with another ATOP member before her passing.

This Friday is supposed to be my first visit to Fort McMurray's nightlife. Some people from my camp are going to celebrate one of the tenants' last nights in town, and have invited me to join. I am only slightly terrified, and the adventure should make for an interesting adventure tale for next week's dispatch. Pray for me.