So far I've been really enjoying my first Montana adventure. Bozeman is a gorgeous place, and it's been fun just getting lost around town and exploring. I'm pretty much on my own during the days, since V works an absurd amount, but the relaxing pace and total lack of schedule has been a welcome break. I've had what could be considered an unhealthy amount of coffee, but there are just so many cute coffee shops that I can't pass up. Also, there are some fabulous yarn shops that I'm trying not to spend too much time in, but budget schmudget, I can't imagine I'm leaving without some new fiber to play with.
On Saturday we drove out to Paradise Valley, which was great fun. Sitting on the rocks by the river was delightful, I don't think I could ever get bored of just listening to the sound of water. The fall leaves were dancing in the current, and I found myself getting a little mesmerized by it all. We saw some deer in a field as we were leaving (it was nice to see some live wildlife - we passed lots of roadkill on the way, including a moose!), and in another bit of nature that never gets old to me, watched them bound across the field in that graceful way they have. Here are a few more pics...
This morning I went on a short hike up to 'The M', and found a great bench overlooking town to plant myself on for a while. Getting out into nature to read, write, knit and think is pretty much the most perfect way I can imagine to spend time alone, and it's been an ideal mix of the solitary time and hanging out with folks. Everyone I've met here is absolutely fantastic, and it's been so great to spend time with V and some of his friends, and I'm looking forward to Adrienne's arrival tomorrow (I hope - she never does travel without 'adventure') and reuniting with she and SB. Awesome, awesome break.
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I touched down in the Minneapolis airport about an hour ago, 2/3 through with this seemingly interminable trip. Planes just make me claustrophobic. Now I'm sitting in the terminal, attempting to kill at least part of my four hour layover. Yikes!
So I am definitely an American, and I don't want to write this with the snobbery of one who has spent just enough time in Europe to pseudo-intellectualize about the pitfalls of American culture, but still, it has been somewhat stunning so far to be back, even just to the airport. The Geneva airport is spartan, the Amsterdam airport had lots of shops and souvenirs (and was seriously scary... the security check at the gate gave me hives. I spent about 10 minutes undergoing an interrogation that was terrifying despite having nothing to hide - and then getting felt up by an agent at the metal detector. Word to the wise - gum wrappers can set it off.), but the Minneapolis airport is a world unto itself. There are TVs all over the place broadcasting everything from CNN to ESPN to ET, chain stores and restaurants in every available nook and cranny offering all a girl could ever want, and even vending machines selling iPods and iPod accessories. Who spends hundreds of dollars at a vending machine???
But what was the most disturbing part of the trip so far was my experience at the customs gate. I was in line between two black men, and a young blonde customs agent doing a "random" check of passengers came and rudely interrogated them both. One of them she even harassed for wearing a hoodie and a cap. "Is it cold in here? Why are you wearing that parka?" The other man protested - rightfully so, I think - with the claim of "I'm an American. I should be able to go on vacation where I choose!" Which got me thinking, as I considered the number of white folks I've heard griping about the 'politically correct' terminology of African-American, Asian-American, and all the others in use. After all, we're all just Americans, right? Well, no. Standing in line I realized again how the word "American" so often really means white. It's lovely to think that racism is dead and that we're all now equal under the law, but inequality is still very much alive and well, and it was not only disturbing to see the agent's more blatant racism in action, but to be made aware of my own complicity. Rather than speaking up, I was tired and just wanted to get through the gate without any delays or inconvenience, and so sat silent in the midst of the horrid display.
ETA: I've arrived safely in Bozeman and am excited for this little break with some new scenery and a couple of old friends. The couple I'm staying with are incredibly hospitable and gracious, and the lodging is pretty lush. I'm feeling pretty spoiled.
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