My hosts, Mike and Margaret, tell me that part of the trouble with weather reports here is that forecasters can't really predict how fast a storm will move in. The thin air, the mountains, and other forces beyond the control of meteorologists make the predictions slightly better than a crapshoot.
Side note: What is a crapshoot? If you can tell me, you could win a postcard from Aspen....
Anyway, back to my story. This is what M & M told me Saturday morning, when the weather predicted two feet of snow by Sunday afternoon. Margaret also says she has done the math, and more than 14 feet - FEET - of snow has fallen since December. Of course, some has melted and then more has come. But that's a lot of snow in any case. The snow we heard about on Saturday didn't come until Sunday night, and then only in light fluffy flakes that dusted the cars in the front yard.
So when I left for my first day of work this morning, I was pretty confident that the "storm," such as it was, had passed. I headed to Carbondale to check out an apartment, which is a one-bedroom just off the main street. It was not unreasonable to worry that the woman I was meeting might be otherwise engaged... in labor. Her due date was today! Luckily, the baby was eager for her mom to find a subletter. The place is so pretty - a warm yellowy kitchen/living area, with a cute little stove and a huge fridge, and then a short hall to the bedroom with two large closets and between front and back rooms, a spacious and pretty bathroom. All in all, a sweet spot. The bedroom is a pretty blue-green. Yes, I am a sucker for a nice paint job. And I was so relieved to see how awesome it was, and that Meg (the mom-to-be) wanted to rent it to me, that I hugged her. I hope that did not cause her pain, but it was a pretty big hug. I left my number for Julietta the landlady to call, and set off for Aspen.
The drive to the station revealed two things: the brakes on the T-bird are a bit weird, although they do work, and the road was increasingly icy as I approached Aspen. But I made it in about an hour (thirty to forty minutes is the average, I'm told) and settled in by filling out paperwork and rearranging my desk. My story for the day was about an airport runway extension, so I headed out to the airport in the mid-afternoon. Roads didn't seem too bad, although they were nothing to celebrate either. Back to the station I went. Then I waited a long time for a callback which never came. By the time I vetted and voiced my scripts, the snow had started in earnest. The early morning reporter, Marci, came back in and told us she was planning to sleep at the radio station. I helpfully went out to the car and grabbed the pillow I threw in for the drive and never used. We trudged through at least 4 inches of fresh powder and snow that showed no signs of stopping. Marci got a sleeping bag from her trunk, dismantled the couch cushions, and headed for a back studio.
At this point I still intended to drive back to M & M's house. I had even picked up orange juice from the store for Margaret. Then Mitzi left and called minutes later to advise that I should probably think hard about the drive. I did, and quickly decided that weird brakes plus old car plus heavy snow plus MOUNTAIN equals, stay where you are, damn it! So I called Mike and told him I was staying in Aspen and not to worry.
"You're not here," he said, "And I was trying to think like your father... staying there is the conservative thing to do. We'll see you some time tomorrow." He also said I should enjoy the orange juice.
With that call taken care of, I trudged out to the car again, this time to grab a selection of warm clothes from the massive duffel bag still weighing down my trunk. I startled a young guy working late at the nonprofit next door to ask if he had a sleeping bag (he didn't, although he searched valiantly), and settled in for the big snow.
Even though it is late here, Marci and I aren't alone in the station. Volunteer DJs spin jazz all evening. Gary Whipple was hosting earlier, and we chatted about Toronto (he's from Rochester and visited Yonge Street in the '70s). He also walked in on Marci's makeshift room and then felt bad about it. She does have to get up early, after all. Now there's a woman here, and I have no idea who that is, but she seems a little distressed that she has company.
All in all, a very interesting first day. Now if you'll excuse me, I am going to go curl up on the other station couch, and wait for the snow to stop. And tomorrow, it might be time to see about some skiing.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Friday, January 25, 2008
Riding Shotgun to Rifle
I have now been in Aspen for slightly more than 24 hours, and I have to say - it's been overwhelming. Not in a bad way, but in the same way that they are when you realize you've just made your favorite jeans into cutoffs. An act that cannot really be undone, and which in the long run you realize you might not want to reverse, but something the full impact of which you failed to grasp at the moment you sliced through the denim with a pair of scissors.
My morning began early, as my new boss said she would pick me up at 7:30 for the drive to Rifle. We would start there and work our way back to Aspen, touring the down valley area as we went. Down valley is code for anything below Aspen here, and I'm not sure if it is one word, two words, or even proper grammar. In any case, I hopped out of bed, prepared myself, and had a quick bite to eat with my hosts, Mike and Margaret. Their standard poodle Emma joined us as well, but she didn't have any bacon. By the time Mitzi actually pulled up, it was 8 o'clock. Her dog Ashay rode along with us in her little Subaru.
Rifle is a town that has recently been booming, thanks to the development of oil and natural gas. Guess which company is leading the charge? EnCana! Interesting Canadian connection. TRIVIA ALERT: First person to e-mail me the name of the project(s) EnCana has been involved with in Nova Scotia gets a postcard from Aspen.
We stopped in Rifle so Mitzi could do an interview with the head of the Garfield County library system. Then we took Ashay for a walk, during which he did a very good imitation of a billy goat (we ran into two goats among a field of tractors alongside the road). The walk was brief, and then we all piled back into the car to go back to Glenwood Springs. Something I learned about Glenwood Springs today - it's not just a name. There is an actual hot spring the size of an Olympic swimming pool that is open to the public, daily, in the middle of town. I think I may be brave enough to check it out this weekend. Another thing I learned is that Glenwood is home to a Target and a Lowe's building store, AND a Pier 1 Imports. I am no longer concerned about furnishing the apartment I do not yet have.
We pulled in to Target long enough to determine that a) they are sold out of snow boots and b) as Mitzi says, it's the only place near Aspen where you can buy underwear that "isn't a beaded thong." Back in the car, after forcibly removing Ashay from the driver's seat. He really doesn't like to be left out in the car!
In Carbondale, we visited the outgoing reporter's apartment. It was nice, but it is definitely a basement. Then Mitzi and I split up for a while and I walked around the historic downtown, stopping for a bagel and to look for rental signs. There is a one-screen movie theater (currently showing Atonement) where you can buy a 10-show pass for $60, and a cool little coffee shop called the Lift. I had a bagel with "marble mafia" cream cheese. I did not see any mobsters.
By the time I returned to the car, I was ready for some quiet time - and to be off the road. So Mitzi dropped me off at my car and I drove up to Aspen (I know, that's not actually off the road at all). I parked at the station, checked my e-mail, called on a promising apartment lead, and then talked to MB who called at exactly the right moment. I also took some photos of the view from the station, and of the station, and of Ashay, who is kind of my new favorite thing. I will post the pictures as soon as I get online on my own computer.
At the station I also met Marci, the newsreader and reporter who was hired just three months ago. She is super nice. She took me to the bank, where I opened a bank account so I can put my greenbacks safely away. Then we went to the post office and I followed her to the Aspen Club and Spa, where the station has free memberships. I asked how that works, and Mitzi says they do a trade - the station does "underwriting" for them by basically running little ads for the club, and they let us all go there for free.
And holy crap is it a good thing it's free. For those who have the point of reference, think Spring fitness club in Halifax. There's a greatroom entrance with a huge flat screen television, stuffed club chairs, and a clothing/athletic wear/jewelry store next to it. Then there's a HUGE open space, circular, with a walkway around on the mezzanine level. Below, the weight room and fitness studio are in the center. On the mezzanine, there is a pilates room, two other studios, a herd of treadmills and other cardio machines, and a cafe called "garnishes." And also a sports medicine clinic and performance training center.
Off the back is a three-lane lap pool along with an indoor and outdoor hot tub. And down the stairs, a full spa (massage for $150, anyone?) and hair/nail salon. But most stunning is the locker room. Oh, my. You come in to fluffy white bath sheets - no washcloth-sized hand towels here - for the taking, plus fluffy white robes and complimentary spa sandals. Then perhaps you'll have some tea, from the selection of herbal teas kept in the pantry area. After some refreshment, you can head into the locker area, where each custom cabinet wood locker has its own key, and you can sit in club chairs while you discuss the designer ski jacket you saw hanging in the coat closet. The shower area has a women-only jacuzzi, steam room, and sauna, plus teak lounge chairs everywhere. The makeup area has hair dryers that actually work, lotion, hair spray, mouthwash, hair brushes, shampoo, body wash, razors, you name it. I actually asked a well-dressed woman if the hair brush was hers, and she looked at me like I was from another planet. "No, those are for everyone to use..." as she moved a little further away down the counter to finish applying her mascara. Pardon my Prada, madam.
While in the fancy shmancy locker room, a woman my age came in with a LULULEMON gym bag! Before I could stop to restrain myself, I blurted out, "Are you from Canada?" She looked startled but said, no she had gotten it in Denver. Accomplishing two things - a) a new place to get my Lulu fix, and b) starting a conversation. She works for a nonprofit here called the Aspen Institute (more on that below) and her name is Becka Jane. I hope I see her again, and perhaps she won't think I'm a weirdo when I interrogate her about her Reverse Groove yoga pants.
After the gym I decided to mosey on down the mountain back to Mike and Margaret's house. I had an invitation to dinner with a bunch of Mitzi's friends and people from the station, but I wanted to chill out instead. Which was an awesome idea. Mike and Margaret were on their matching Mac Powerbooks when I got home, and we all sat and watched some news on the huge TV before they whipped up a "quick and simple" dinner of pounded chicken cutlets encrusted with panko, green onion and parsley, carrots sauteed in butter and ginger, fresh crusty bread, and salad with avocado and homemade dressing. Unbelievable. I've been pretty darn lucky in grub the last few days! I won't be as enthusiastic when blogging about my own spaghetti and marinara sauce dinners.
We all sat to eat and M & M told me all about the Aspen Institute and the lecturers that come to speak here through the year. It's quite the roster - Madeline Albright, Karl Rove, Bill Clinton, Al Gore, Thomas Friedman to name a few. And Mike described the new physics society summer festival and the famous authors who come to do book signings in town. It sounds like King's at high elevation, really. Which leaves me even more determined to start the Aspen chapter of the Alumni association. No word on whether they're into sherry.
Pop culture alert: For those who know of my fascination (infatuation) with Wolf Blitzer, you'll appreciate that he is a regular attendee at many Aspen fundraisers/festivals/conferences. Oh, Wolf. He may take over from Rick on the crush list. Unless Rick skis in Aspen. Then he will always have my heart.
Mike and I talked all about great books and great bread - and discovered that he has the exact book about the science of cooking that my father bought me last year at a used bookstore! We're like three peas in a pod, Mike and Margaret and me. And Mark, I guess (that's my dad, for the uninitiated).
After supper we all sat down again with our respective computers and watched Maria Sharapova win the Australian Open. Tomorrow M & M are going skiing, and I am going exploring again. I'll let you know if I get up the courage to hop in the hot springs!
My morning began early, as my new boss said she would pick me up at 7:30 for the drive to Rifle. We would start there and work our way back to Aspen, touring the down valley area as we went. Down valley is code for anything below Aspen here, and I'm not sure if it is one word, two words, or even proper grammar. In any case, I hopped out of bed, prepared myself, and had a quick bite to eat with my hosts, Mike and Margaret. Their standard poodle Emma joined us as well, but she didn't have any bacon. By the time Mitzi actually pulled up, it was 8 o'clock. Her dog Ashay rode along with us in her little Subaru.
Rifle is a town that has recently been booming, thanks to the development of oil and natural gas. Guess which company is leading the charge? EnCana! Interesting Canadian connection. TRIVIA ALERT: First person to e-mail me the name of the project(s) EnCana has been involved with in Nova Scotia gets a postcard from Aspen.
We stopped in Rifle so Mitzi could do an interview with the head of the Garfield County library system. Then we took Ashay for a walk, during which he did a very good imitation of a billy goat (we ran into two goats among a field of tractors alongside the road). The walk was brief, and then we all piled back into the car to go back to Glenwood Springs. Something I learned about Glenwood Springs today - it's not just a name. There is an actual hot spring the size of an Olympic swimming pool that is open to the public, daily, in the middle of town. I think I may be brave enough to check it out this weekend. Another thing I learned is that Glenwood is home to a Target and a Lowe's building store, AND a Pier 1 Imports. I am no longer concerned about furnishing the apartment I do not yet have.
We pulled in to Target long enough to determine that a) they are sold out of snow boots and b) as Mitzi says, it's the only place near Aspen where you can buy underwear that "isn't a beaded thong." Back in the car, after forcibly removing Ashay from the driver's seat. He really doesn't like to be left out in the car!
In Carbondale, we visited the outgoing reporter's apartment. It was nice, but it is definitely a basement. Then Mitzi and I split up for a while and I walked around the historic downtown, stopping for a bagel and to look for rental signs. There is a one-screen movie theater (currently showing Atonement) where you can buy a 10-show pass for $60, and a cool little coffee shop called the Lift. I had a bagel with "marble mafia" cream cheese. I did not see any mobsters.
By the time I returned to the car, I was ready for some quiet time - and to be off the road. So Mitzi dropped me off at my car and I drove up to Aspen (I know, that's not actually off the road at all). I parked at the station, checked my e-mail, called on a promising apartment lead, and then talked to MB who called at exactly the right moment. I also took some photos of the view from the station, and of the station, and of Ashay, who is kind of my new favorite thing. I will post the pictures as soon as I get online on my own computer.
At the station I also met Marci, the newsreader and reporter who was hired just three months ago. She is super nice. She took me to the bank, where I opened a bank account so I can put my greenbacks safely away. Then we went to the post office and I followed her to the Aspen Club and Spa, where the station has free memberships. I asked how that works, and Mitzi says they do a trade - the station does "underwriting" for them by basically running little ads for the club, and they let us all go there for free.
And holy crap is it a good thing it's free. For those who have the point of reference, think Spring fitness club in Halifax. There's a greatroom entrance with a huge flat screen television, stuffed club chairs, and a clothing/athletic wear/jewelry store next to it. Then there's a HUGE open space, circular, with a walkway around on the mezzanine level. Below, the weight room and fitness studio are in the center. On the mezzanine, there is a pilates room, two other studios, a herd of treadmills and other cardio machines, and a cafe called "garnishes." And also a sports medicine clinic and performance training center.
Off the back is a three-lane lap pool along with an indoor and outdoor hot tub. And down the stairs, a full spa (massage for $150, anyone?) and hair/nail salon. But most stunning is the locker room. Oh, my. You come in to fluffy white bath sheets - no washcloth-sized hand towels here - for the taking, plus fluffy white robes and complimentary spa sandals. Then perhaps you'll have some tea, from the selection of herbal teas kept in the pantry area. After some refreshment, you can head into the locker area, where each custom cabinet wood locker has its own key, and you can sit in club chairs while you discuss the designer ski jacket you saw hanging in the coat closet. The shower area has a women-only jacuzzi, steam room, and sauna, plus teak lounge chairs everywhere. The makeup area has hair dryers that actually work, lotion, hair spray, mouthwash, hair brushes, shampoo, body wash, razors, you name it. I actually asked a well-dressed woman if the hair brush was hers, and she looked at me like I was from another planet. "No, those are for everyone to use..." as she moved a little further away down the counter to finish applying her mascara. Pardon my Prada, madam.
While in the fancy shmancy locker room, a woman my age came in with a LULULEMON gym bag! Before I could stop to restrain myself, I blurted out, "Are you from Canada?" She looked startled but said, no she had gotten it in Denver. Accomplishing two things - a) a new place to get my Lulu fix, and b) starting a conversation. She works for a nonprofit here called the Aspen Institute (more on that below) and her name is Becka Jane. I hope I see her again, and perhaps she won't think I'm a weirdo when I interrogate her about her Reverse Groove yoga pants.
After the gym I decided to mosey on down the mountain back to Mike and Margaret's house. I had an invitation to dinner with a bunch of Mitzi's friends and people from the station, but I wanted to chill out instead. Which was an awesome idea. Mike and Margaret were on their matching Mac Powerbooks when I got home, and we all sat and watched some news on the huge TV before they whipped up a "quick and simple" dinner of pounded chicken cutlets encrusted with panko, green onion and parsley, carrots sauteed in butter and ginger, fresh crusty bread, and salad with avocado and homemade dressing. Unbelievable. I've been pretty darn lucky in grub the last few days! I won't be as enthusiastic when blogging about my own spaghetti and marinara sauce dinners.
We all sat to eat and M & M told me all about the Aspen Institute and the lecturers that come to speak here through the year. It's quite the roster - Madeline Albright, Karl Rove, Bill Clinton, Al Gore, Thomas Friedman to name a few. And Mike described the new physics society summer festival and the famous authors who come to do book signings in town. It sounds like King's at high elevation, really. Which leaves me even more determined to start the Aspen chapter of the Alumni association. No word on whether they're into sherry.
Pop culture alert: For those who know of my fascination (infatuation) with Wolf Blitzer, you'll appreciate that he is a regular attendee at many Aspen fundraisers/festivals/conferences. Oh, Wolf. He may take over from Rick on the crush list. Unless Rick skis in Aspen. Then he will always have my heart.
Mike and I talked all about great books and great bread - and discovered that he has the exact book about the science of cooking that my father bought me last year at a used bookstore! We're like three peas in a pod, Mike and Margaret and me. And Mark, I guess (that's my dad, for the uninitiated).
After supper we all sat down again with our respective computers and watched Maria Sharapova win the Australian Open. Tomorrow M & M are going skiing, and I am going exploring again. I'll let you know if I get up the courage to hop in the hot springs!
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Down the Road to Denver, and Up in Altitude to Aspen
When I woke up in Lincoln, Nebraska, one of my first thoughts was that I ought to be going. Not that the locals were unfriendly. In fact, every person I met was cheerful and incredibly helpful. But my mind was already in Colorado, and my body needed to catch up.
So after a hearty breakfast of oatmeal and yogurt, I hit the road for the local coffee shop, The Blend. It was like a scene from Fargo or some Midwestern sitcom - the woman behind the counter makes a mocha and hands it to the guy in his work coveralls and says "There ya go, Ben. Have a good day now." I took my latte to go, along with a shirt that reads: I got mugged at The Blend. I couldn't resist. Maybe I will wear it to my fancy new gym and upset all the celebrities.
The rest of Nebraska can be summed up in a few sentences. The road was flat and the scenery was farmland featuring large seeder-looking machinery. The things I noticed while I whizzed past were, in order:
Buffalo Bill's Ranch (followed by his grave, located west of Denver)
A huge archway over the highway in the middle of nowhere and with no apparent historical or cultural significance.
The Heartland Museum of Military Vehicles.
A town called Gibbon (which is a type of monkey I doubt lives in said location).
An original Pony Express Station.
A truck stop the size of a department store where church services are held each Sunday in the TV lounge.
And then, in Colorado -
A large bird of prey which landed in the middle of the road, in my lane, forcing me to change lanes rather than fly away from whatever it had landed on.
So after a hearty breakfast of oatmeal and yogurt, I hit the road for the local coffee shop, The Blend. It was like a scene from Fargo or some Midwestern sitcom - the woman behind the counter makes a mocha and hands it to the guy in his work coveralls and says "There ya go, Ben. Have a good day now." I took my latte to go, along with a shirt that reads: I got mugged at The Blend. I couldn't resist. Maybe I will wear it to my fancy new gym and upset all the celebrities.
The rest of Nebraska can be summed up in a few sentences. The road was flat and the scenery was farmland featuring large seeder-looking machinery. The things I noticed while I whizzed past were, in order:
Buffalo Bill's Ranch (followed by his grave, located west of Denver)
A huge archway over the highway in the middle of nowhere and with no apparent historical or cultural significance.
The Heartland Museum of Military Vehicles.
A town called Gibbon (which is a type of monkey I doubt lives in said location).
An original Pony Express Station.
A truck stop the size of a department store where church services are held each Sunday in the TV lounge.
And then, in Colorado -
A large bird of prey which landed in the middle of the road, in my lane, forcing me to change lanes rather than fly away from whatever it had landed on.
Driving into Denver was amazing. I didn't really see much but lights, because it was already dark. The twinkling seemed to go on forever, and spread out in front of the car as I crested the hills. The TomTom helpfully shouted me to Susan's mother's house, which is gorgeous! It was my first time meeting her, and she was so welcoming. What a nice way to finish a long day of driving, with a friendly smile and lovely surroundings! The house has many pieces of Susan's art, which I had never seen and which made the space feel so calm and peaceful.
It wasn't quiet for long, though! Setsko drove me to a basketball game where we met up with Susan's sister, Nancy, and her kids - Nick and Jessica. Nick is very tall and a basketball player. Jessica is all grown up since the last time I saw her - way back when in Seal Harbour! After the game, where I saw a step team (the only comparison I can draw is that "stomping" style of dance that was so popular in New York a few years ago, I can't remember the name) perform, along with the varsity "poms" and the cheerleaders. So much pep, I tell you! It was amazing to see. They must have practiced so hard, and the performances looked practically professional - in high school!
After the game Setsko took us out for supper and we all got to know each other and chat about Colorado. It is so nice to know that I have extended bonus family in Denver. I hope they will all come to visit me in Aspen, but Nancy says not until the snow melts! After a good meal, we went back to Setsko's house and called it a night. I slept like a rock!
This morning, I had my first taste of Japanese pancakes, which were so delicious! They were light and fluffy but crispy on the outside and I can't even describe how good - you'll have to go to Denver and have Setsko make some for you! We had tea and pancakes and then I prepared to hit the road. I had a travel snack of cake and coffee, which was delicious and infinitely better than truck stop food.
After a car wash (six states' worth of dirt and grime!) I headed for Aspen. The roads were dry and clear, but I had to struggle to keep my eyes on the highway - the mountains rose up on the horizon like a picture or a painting and I have never seen anything like it. It's no wonder religion seems so popular here: one look at these mountains and you have to think there's a higher power designing the landscape.
Driving through the mountains was not as arduous as I had feared, thanks mostly to the dry conditions. It was a bit unnerving to drive by signs reading "Falling Rock" and "Avalanche Area." And the tunnels under the mountains are not my favorites. The further west I went the less I wanted to drive back to Denver! I'm sure that passes, though. The T-bird was a champ.
I tried to stop for food in Vail but after circling the village for 15 minutes without hope of parking, I moved on to the next highway rest area and ate there instead. I was so rattled from the Vail experience that I drove the T-bird's front end directly into a snowbank, causing alarm for the Mexican gentlemen in the construction pickup next to my parking space. I calmly backed up and waved to let them know I was okay. The bumper was unfazed.
After Vail, the mountain view changed a bit. The road seemed carved out of the mountain, with a sheer face on the right side, red rock mixed with white snow. It was also stunning, and I would have paused except for the "Falling Rock" signs (see above). Other than the breathtaking views, the most memorable moment was for exit 119 on the highway - no name. No, really, that is what the exit was called. Exit 119 - No Name. Sounds like a sequel to The Shining. One license plate also bears mention - two wrinkly old men in a pickup truck, and two words: EAT ELK. Well, if you insist.
Glenwood Springs was a quick drive-by. I paused at a 7-Eleven to call the station and alert them to my imminent arrival. My excitement was dampened by getting my boss's voice mail. So to cheer myself up I drove through Carbondale on my way to Aspen. What a beautiful town! The sign actually calls it a city, but I'm not convinced yet. The main street is made up of small red brick row buildings with shops and storefronts. There are also several candy-colored townhouses and a few freestanding buildings. The highlight however, is that just moments from this picturesque downtown, there is a field of cows. Yes, that's right. A field of cows! As I rejoiced at the proximity of livestock to my new home, I passed a field of horses! I'll have to make friends with some farmers.
Onward to Aspen, I said to myself. And so I went, up up up the mountain. Apparently snowplows don't "do" Aspen, so the streets became snow-covered and hard packed. I commandeered the valiant T-bird (by this point making a squeaky sound at each braking and a mildly worrying grumble) up the hill and through the little streets to the Red Brick building where the station is housed. I pulled over, grabbed my coat and purse, and promptly walked into a rec center gymnastics class. That explains why an eight-year-old held the door for me. Turns out the radio station is next door, with its own entrance.
It's a small place, and as I walked in, people appeared from everywhere to say hello. They told me I was the most exciting part of the day! I got the grand tour, an offer of a free couch (with a snazzy print), and checked my e-mail. Then Mitzi and I went on a walking tour of Aspen, with her dog Ashay. Ashay is five months old and a beautiful golden labradoodle. He also really likes to smell tourists. So we went all around town - from the station, past the post office (they're really big on Post Offices here, more on that another day), up the hill to the library, which is beautiful and clearly well funded, through the walking mall area (Christian Dior, Burberry.... and LUSH!! ) and back around to the station. I met several city parking employees, a reporter from one of the papers, the deputy sheriff (who was hammering a sign in at one of the shops because apparently there's not much to do in the way of enforcing the law here), and a few of Mitzi's friends. Ashay met several poodles and a shih-tzu who looked very offended at his bold advances.
I also learned that there is so little crime that sometimes there is no police officer on duty(!!) at the station, the newspapers are all free (except the New York Times, which is available everywhere in those corner paper boxes), and new reporters get a free welcome meal.
Before I got the food, though, Andrew took me to the home where I'll be staying, with Mike and Margaret. They are members of the radio station board and really smart people. They have a gorgeous and huge home, one level with three bedrooms, an open concept great room/kitchen/dining room, and floor to ceiling windows on both sides of the house. After a few minutes getting to know them, Andrew whisked me away (a small snow squall on the way down the mountain convinced me that I was done driving for the day) to a bistro in Basalt to meet Mitzi for dinner.
Super secret trivia: someone I met today was present at Mariah Carey's private Christmas eve church service in Aspen. Yes, that's right. She has a private Christmas eve service.
Dinner was delicious (I did not eat elk, which was on the menu, but there's always tomorrow) and now I'm going to hit the hay. Mitzi comes tomorrow to give me the tour de down valley. We'll start in Rifle and work our way back to Aspen, stopping in Carbondale for what shall henceforth be known as the Great Apartment Hunt. Wish me luck!
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
All Signs Point West
Day two of the trip, day one on driving alone. Well, alone except for the TomTom my parents loaned me. For the uninitiated, a TomTom is a GPS navigation thingy. It tells you how to get where you're going and shouts out helpful(?) instructions to direct you. So after hours of driving straight, a vaguely British voice comes from nowhere - "IN 200 YARDS TURN LEFT!" If nothing else, it kept me awake.
So, the day began waking up in the fancy hotel with the little sister. After the ritual of suitcase stuffing and double-checking for items left behind, the hotel staff fetched the T-bird. I dropped little sister off at the art museum and got out of town. Unfortunately, I didn't think to get coffee before getting on the highway. Outer Chicago has a lovely outlet mall, if you're ever out that way.
Then I remembered I needed a pay-as-you-go phone for the road. It was around that time that I saw a Target. Another successful detour, and I was back behind the wheel.
One noteworthy moment from today was learning how to pop the hood of the car. I noticed that the oil light was blinking a few hours into the drive, reading "low." I wasn't terribly concerned, because some of the T-bird's quirks include a light informing me that the emergency brake is on (I don't think that's been true since the early '90s) and a gas tank that reads 125% full. I guess the car is an optimist.
When I pulled over in a place called Dixon, IL I had to read the gas receipt, because I had no idea where I was - the TomTom worries about those details. I filled up, bought a Subway sandwich from the least enthusiastic employee I have ever come across, and went outside to check the oil. I pulled the trunk-popper button and the hood jumped up a few inches. Promising. So I went to the front of the car and tried to lift it. No success. I crouched down, I wiggled my hand underneath, I begged it to open. I cursed my four-inch heels and then God answered my blasphemy with a young trucker. He took pity and opened the hood for me, then demonstrated so I could do it myself. Probably the most embarrassing moment of the trip thus far. I am happy to report that I subsequently checked the oil, located oil in the car kit my father provided, and emptied said oil into the "engine oil" opening. I did debate for a moment whether motor oil and engine oil are the same thing. My best guess is yes, because the car is still running.
The outskirts of Chicago seemed to go on forever. But when they were over, boy were they over - nothing but flat road and farmland for what felt like forever. At some point, a sign informed me that the People of Iowa welcomed me to their state. Sadly the welcome wagon was a series of rusty tractors and farm equipment covered in snow. To be fair, I did pass the birthplace of Ronald Reagan and the Herbert Hoover Presidential Museum. The highway even became the Ronald Reagan Memorial Highway.
My favorite part of Iowa, though, was the Iowa-80 Truck Stop. I had just stopped for gas half an hour before I saw the sign proclaiming it to be the largest truck stop not only in Iowa - oh, no. This is the largest truck stop in the WORLD. Definitely demanded a photograph, which I will post at the earliest opportunity.
It was filled with religious t-shirts, shot glasses, and many, many truckers. Also a section of porcelain collectibles, oddly enough. I refrained from purchasing any of those things, and instead phoned in to the family and took a coffee to go.
After the Iowa-80, I drove until I hit Des Moines, which is more than two hours! I had no idea states were so big. In Maine, two hours will get you from Portland to Boston!
I spent an inordinate amount of time in Des Moines searching for a mall where I could wander around for a while for a break. It took so much time I decided to just have a quick bite to eat instead. But not before I stood outside the car long enough to lose feeling in my hands - just five short minutes, my friends. This is one cold region. So I went to a restaurant called Old Chicago (oh, the irony) and had a turkey burger.
By the time I rolled in to Lincoln, my check-in kit was the last one on the desk. The hotel is all suites and mine is a "studio" which is the size of my old bachelor apartment in Halifax. It's cozy, it's off the road, the internet is included, and they tell me there's a hot breakfast in the morning. What more could I want, you ask? How about an exciting drive to Denver? And maybe a souvenir magnet from the Cornhusker State.
Interesting trivia learned today: Nebraska is the home of Arbor Day. Ronald Reagan was born in Illinois. For some reason the Presidential Library and Museum is also in Illinois. The Nebraska state slogan is The Good Life. And somewhere in Iowa, a person is living in a town called "Exira" - remember that for next time you play Scrabble with proper nouns.
So, the day began waking up in the fancy hotel with the little sister. After the ritual of suitcase stuffing and double-checking for items left behind, the hotel staff fetched the T-bird. I dropped little sister off at the art museum and got out of town. Unfortunately, I didn't think to get coffee before getting on the highway. Outer Chicago has a lovely outlet mall, if you're ever out that way.
Then I remembered I needed a pay-as-you-go phone for the road. It was around that time that I saw a Target. Another successful detour, and I was back behind the wheel.
One noteworthy moment from today was learning how to pop the hood of the car. I noticed that the oil light was blinking a few hours into the drive, reading "low." I wasn't terribly concerned, because some of the T-bird's quirks include a light informing me that the emergency brake is on (I don't think that's been true since the early '90s) and a gas tank that reads 125% full. I guess the car is an optimist.
When I pulled over in a place called Dixon, IL I had to read the gas receipt, because I had no idea where I was - the TomTom worries about those details. I filled up, bought a Subway sandwich from the least enthusiastic employee I have ever come across, and went outside to check the oil. I pulled the trunk-popper button and the hood jumped up a few inches. Promising. So I went to the front of the car and tried to lift it. No success. I crouched down, I wiggled my hand underneath, I begged it to open. I cursed my four-inch heels and then God answered my blasphemy with a young trucker. He took pity and opened the hood for me, then demonstrated so I could do it myself. Probably the most embarrassing moment of the trip thus far. I am happy to report that I subsequently checked the oil, located oil in the car kit my father provided, and emptied said oil into the "engine oil" opening. I did debate for a moment whether motor oil and engine oil are the same thing. My best guess is yes, because the car is still running.
The outskirts of Chicago seemed to go on forever. But when they were over, boy were they over - nothing but flat road and farmland for what felt like forever. At some point, a sign informed me that the People of Iowa welcomed me to their state. Sadly the welcome wagon was a series of rusty tractors and farm equipment covered in snow. To be fair, I did pass the birthplace of Ronald Reagan and the Herbert Hoover Presidential Museum. The highway even became the Ronald Reagan Memorial Highway.
My favorite part of Iowa, though, was the Iowa-80 Truck Stop. I had just stopped for gas half an hour before I saw the sign proclaiming it to be the largest truck stop not only in Iowa - oh, no. This is the largest truck stop in the WORLD. Definitely demanded a photograph, which I will post at the earliest opportunity.
It was filled with religious t-shirts, shot glasses, and many, many truckers. Also a section of porcelain collectibles, oddly enough. I refrained from purchasing any of those things, and instead phoned in to the family and took a coffee to go.
After the Iowa-80, I drove until I hit Des Moines, which is more than two hours! I had no idea states were so big. In Maine, two hours will get you from Portland to Boston!
I spent an inordinate amount of time in Des Moines searching for a mall where I could wander around for a while for a break. It took so much time I decided to just have a quick bite to eat instead. But not before I stood outside the car long enough to lose feeling in my hands - just five short minutes, my friends. This is one cold region. So I went to a restaurant called Old Chicago (oh, the irony) and had a turkey burger.
By the time I rolled in to Lincoln, my check-in kit was the last one on the desk. The hotel is all suites and mine is a "studio" which is the size of my old bachelor apartment in Halifax. It's cozy, it's off the road, the internet is included, and they tell me there's a hot breakfast in the morning. What more could I want, you ask? How about an exciting drive to Denver? And maybe a souvenir magnet from the Cornhusker State.
Interesting trivia learned today: Nebraska is the home of Arbor Day. Ronald Reagan was born in Illinois. For some reason the Presidential Library and Museum is also in Illinois. The Nebraska state slogan is The Good Life. And somewhere in Iowa, a person is living in a town called "Exira" - remember that for next time you play Scrabble with proper nouns.
Monday, January 21, 2008
The Windy Way to the Windy City
The first leg of the trip was Toronto to Chicago. As usual, I left lots of final details until the morning of departure. I was taping boxes and labelling things to the bitter end. Mihira and Genevieve helped load the car, which was a true art. Luckily I could still see out the back window!
Driving through Ontario was so much less exciting than I expected. We crossed back into the United States at Sarnia with no problems, and then drove through Michigan. It seemed like a very long time, and after a while we got confused about which state we were in. A helpful woman at WalMart told us that despite our hopes, we were just West of Lansing. "Where did you girls come from, anyway?" In a sign of complete cabin fever, we laughed hysterically for at least 15 minutes after the exchange.
The final stretch into Chicago on the Skyway was snowy but uneventful. The plows were out in force and I'm happy to report the T-bird brakes are in good shape. Perhaps not so for the little sister's nerves! She promptly got on the phone to the parents to complain that I didn't let her drive.
It was all worth it when we pulled into the hotel - wow, fancy! I got a great deal online, which is the only way we could stay at a four-star place. The Aspen job is not that lucrative! Nice gentlemen parked the car for us and whisked our bags up to the room. Meantime, Mihira had arranged for room service to deliver a bottle of wine. A big surprise! After foraging for food in our swanky surroundings, we are tucking in for the night.
Tomorrow, Genevieve stays to explore Chicago and I hit the trail again. Next stop, Lincoln, Nebraska. Stay tuned for tales of the wild west.
Driving through Ontario was so much less exciting than I expected. We crossed back into the United States at Sarnia with no problems, and then drove through Michigan. It seemed like a very long time, and after a while we got confused about which state we were in. A helpful woman at WalMart told us that despite our hopes, we were just West of Lansing. "Where did you girls come from, anyway?" In a sign of complete cabin fever, we laughed hysterically for at least 15 minutes after the exchange.
The final stretch into Chicago on the Skyway was snowy but uneventful. The plows were out in force and I'm happy to report the T-bird brakes are in good shape. Perhaps not so for the little sister's nerves! She promptly got on the phone to the parents to complain that I didn't let her drive.
It was all worth it when we pulled into the hotel - wow, fancy! I got a great deal online, which is the only way we could stay at a four-star place. The Aspen job is not that lucrative! Nice gentlemen parked the car for us and whisked our bags up to the room. Meantime, Mihira had arranged for room service to deliver a bottle of wine. A big surprise! After foraging for food in our swanky surroundings, we are tucking in for the night.
Tomorrow, Genevieve stays to explore Chicago and I hit the trail again. Next stop, Lincoln, Nebraska. Stay tuned for tales of the wild west.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Set to Go
I am balancing my laptop on my lap as I type this note. Tomorrow morning, I hit the road in my shiny silver T-bird. First stop, Chicago. The younger sister is along for the ride and then I leave her and continue on to Lincoln, Nebraska.
The last few days in Toronto have been amazing. I am continuously surprised by the love of my friends. I enjoyed myself so much in the past few days and am grateful for your support on this adventure! Stay tuned for postcard challenges and maybe even something exciting that is unique to the Centennial State.
I intend to blog my way West, in case you're interested to know just how the drive is going in a 1989 loaded with more clothes than any single human should possess.
I'll miss you, Toronto. I'll miss you, friends. Remember: Colorado - it's not as far as you think!
The last few days in Toronto have been amazing. I am continuously surprised by the love of my friends. I enjoyed myself so much in the past few days and am grateful for your support on this adventure! Stay tuned for postcard challenges and maybe even something exciting that is unique to the Centennial State.
I intend to blog my way West, in case you're interested to know just how the drive is going in a 1989 loaded with more clothes than any single human should possess.
I'll miss you, Toronto. I'll miss you, friends. Remember: Colorado - it's not as far as you think!
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Word is Out
The big news is a big move - in late January, I'll be heading out to Aspen, Colorado. I've accepted a full-time radio news reporter job at Aspen Public Radio. A real job! How cool is that?
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