FAIRBANKS, Alaska -- When my wife and I moved to Maine in 2000, we quickly learned that to Mainers we were "from away."

"Away" was anywhere that wasn't Maine.

The term was new to us, but it always seemed to be said with a smile. I liked it more than what we were called when we moved to Rhode Island in 1987.

There -- at least in the Newport area where we lived -- newcomers were not from "away." We were "carpetbaggers."

People were friendly, but I never thought that "carpetbagger" was a word to make someone feel welcome.

Our move to Alaska brought a new title. Here we are not carpetbaggers and not from away. We are from "Outside."

That's spelled with a capital O. To Alaskans, Outside is a very real place. It's anywhere that is not here.

We love the word and the sense of welcome that comes with it. Maybe because so many Alaskans originally were from someplace else -- Outside -- newcomers are made to feel at home. We've found that people here enjoy showing us things that make Alaska different.

From my new-to-Alaska perspective, Outside seems a reasonable and accurate term. It reflects a reality that is hard for people from Outside to understand.

In just six weeks living here, I've sensed that longtime Alaskans think that people in the rest of the country -- people from Outside -- don't really understand that life is different here, with unique problems, culture and lifestyle.

And I think they are right.

I'm only starting to understand those differences.

The obvious ones involve the weather and the great distances that have an impact on nearly everything here.

Distance means that it is difficult and expensive to get goods or people to or from Alaska. Seattle is nearly 2,300 miles away. The drive is about 42 hours.

Flying to or from Alaska, even in the summer, is difficult, long and expensive. For about $1,325 roundtrip, you can fly from Fairbanks at 7 a.m., change planes in Seattle and Washington, D.C., and arrive in Maine at 11:28 p.m. -- if everything is on time. I know little about the cost of air freight, but it's certainly not inexpensive.

Mainers often express concern about the cost and difficulty of doing business in a state at the distant end of the highway system. Multiply that by a lot and you can start to understand the issues facing Alaska.

Our states have much in common: lots of land with few people, moose, beautiful scenery and cold winters. But the differences are greater than the similarities.

Maine is about 35,400 square miles. Alaska is 570,000 square miles.

Maine has about 1,300,000 people. Alaska has about half that many.

We tend to think of Maine as a big place with lots of open space; population per mile shrinks as you drive north. The same is true in Alaska, only more so.

It's about 350 miles from Kittery to Presque Isle -- about as long a drive as you can make in Maine. It takes about 51/2 hours.

That's nothing in Alaska.

If you want to drive from Haines in southeast Alaska north to Prudhoe Bay on the Arctic Ocean, plan on about 33 hours on the road to cover about 1,150 miles.

(In an early draft of this column I tried to determine the driving distance between Haines and Barrow, the most northern town in the United States. My computer programs would not provide driving information.)

(I consulted a colleague on the journalism faculty. He explained that there are no roads to Barrow. It's an isolated community; you can fly there or go by dogsled or snowmobile -- called a snow machine here -- but you can't drive.)

(Write about driving to Barrow and Alaskans will know that you are a cheechako. That means greenhorn in Chinook Jargon.)

We think that the Moosehead Lake area is sparsely settled and hard to reach. Alaska has dozens of villages, largely Native American, without roads. Some can be reached by river, others by small planes or, of course, in winter by dogsled.

Everyone -- even people from Outside -- know that it's cold in Alaska but it's hard to grasp what it means to live in a place where subzero temperatures and three or four hours of daylight are the norm for much of the year. It affects the way you build your house, equip your car, dress for work or pleasure, plan your meals and care for your children. And, of course, it sure affects your heating bills.

I've yet to experience winter; it snowed last week and there was frost on the grass but overall it's still pleasant. But I've learned quickly that Alaskans don't endure the winter, they embrace it. I have a hunch I'm going to spend a lot more time outside in the Alaskan winter than I usually do back in Maine.

I won't be in Alaska long enough to outgrow my Outside designation title but I hope to learn enough to capture the feelings "real" Alaskans have for this unique and fascinating place.

David B. Offer is the retired executive editor of the Kennebec Journal in Augusta, ME and the Morning Sentinel in Waterville, ME. He is spending a year as the C.W. Snedden chair in journalism at the University of Alaska-Fairbanks. E-mail davidboffer@hotmail.com.