Denver is not that ugly

"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars." - Oscar Wilde

Denver does not have the reputation of being a beautiful city, but I found visual pleasure in the downtown architecture and neighborhoods. Denver is the 21st largest metro area in the USA; Portland, OR is the 23rd largest, both hovering around 2.5 million people. It feels like a small town, but from high above, it looks large and sprawling. It's a manageable size.

Public transport is ok, but I think would be hard to depend on for daily use unless you had several extra hours a day to waste. Short distances take a long time, and it is relatively expensive in comparison with other large metropolitan areas. I did not notice any cyclists in Denver, as compared to Boulder, so it seems they could improve in that area as well.

Ink! Coffee was ok, not great.

I took public bus to my friend Gretchen's house (who has 4 month old twin daughters and another daughter who will be 4 this weekend). They live in a quiet residential neighborhood just a short distance from downtown in a bungalow which could be transported into any Portland neighborhood.

On the right is the Denver Art Museum which was closed when I stopped by (a Monday).

Outside the Denver Public Library. Inside was filled with residents. It always makes me happy to see people hanging out with books.

Exterior of library. Very cool. Inside was also cool, but in a more sterile way. I always think libraries should have a cozy, stay-a-while feel, which this did not have, but it was still nice.

Denver Art Museum

Downtown.

There were a lot of bums in Denver. It's pretty cold there, so hopefully they have shelters for winter.

Cute construction workers outside the art museum.


I love grey skies, and if I ever move back to the Northwest, this would be one of the top reasons-- for the drizzly weather and blankets of grey.

BACK TO BOULDER:

Excellent cappuccino at Boxcar Roasters.

Boulder Teahouse.

Poetry bookstore on Broadway in college hill area.

Excessive amounts of tasty food at the Sherpa's Restaurant, which was staffed by Nepalese.

So, I'm enjoying Colorado. It's been a contemplative trip- lots of free time to rest and wander and think, intermixed with visits to old friends and memories past. I'm not sure where I will end up in the next few months but what I have now is pretty good.

Boulder

I finally found excellent coffee and superb company in a coffee shop suitable for a coffee snob like myself, Boxcar Coffee Roasters. I perched at the bar, eavesdropping and writing and reading the New Yorker in caffeine-induced splendor for at least two hours.

The Farmer's Market continues through November 19th. I am impressed at the hardy nature of Boulder residents.

During Farmer's Market days, the Boulder Museum of Contemporary Art offers free admission. It's small, but offers just enough to beg contemplation without mental overexertion.

My favorite store in town is the Boulder Army Surplus Store. On my second visit (I couldn't help myself), I discovered second-hand German goods, and someone who almost had my name.

Even though this is a very artistic sign, the goods inside the Pearl Street store did not delight my senses. Pearl Street is the main shopping pedestrian drag, and it's rather overrun with shops like this and overpriced restaurants, but I still found it enjoyable, especially with street musicians wafting through the air.

Feeling Gratefully Unemployed (in Boulder)

Walking through Boulder today, I felt like a regular person. I looked like a regular person. If I saw me, I would think I had a job. I feel like I'm pretending to be a regular person. But then I start to wonder, what is a regular person anyway? I realize I'm finally starting to enjoy the freedom unemployment brings. Just walking alone with my thoughts and smiling at strangers. This is living life.

"The meaning of life is to make life meaningful." - A.C. Grayling

Wandering through Boulder's Central Park toward downtown from our retro motor inn, leaves squishing through slushy snow, I could barely open my eyes in the blinding sun. Yet I was bundled in layers with freezing ears. Winter's icy brightness. Our motel is cozied into the mountain, and its name apt: Foot of the Mountain. It feels like we're buried in, especially with heavy snow clumped all over the land.

Boulder has a reputation of high maintenance, silver-spoon hippies. The last time I was here was twenty years ago when I was fifteen and fresh out of North Dakota. It seemed like a wonderland that time and I wished I could go to college here. This time it feels more commercial and more like a regular American town. I suspect Boulder's changed, but likely I've changed more.

Boulder's predictable in many ways: the residents' appearance (dreads, earrings, messy hair), consumer possibilities (outdoor stores, orthopedic shoes, energy field readings). And not so much in other ways: boring repetitive building styles, quiet back streets, exceptionally friendly residents.

I wandered into coffee shops, searching for the perfect cup. (I'm still hunting.) Stopped into the end of the Occupy Boulder meeting and met quiet, articulate, non-violent people of all ages. On the way home, I saw art through a massive windowed building and walked up to discover it was the public library, where they also hold movie screenings, GED classes, and more. It's apparent where the values lie in this community, and I feel an affinity for its residents.

In the library, I met a poet who'd lived in San Francisco and Kalispell. She gave me her number and, feeling drawn to this kindred spirit, I promised to call her for coffee later in the week. Flushed out of the library into the brisk cold, I scurried home to our little pine-walled room, but not before a few residents arriving home could say hello to me.

Traveling and unemployment have a way of reminding me what is important: taking time to breathe in life as it is offered to me.