Shutting Off the Noise. Notes from Small Town America

On one hot lunch break at work, our company fed us hotdogs in the blazing sun, on the lawn in front of our building. I shared the table with one of our DBA’s (google that if you’re fuzzy on what it spells) and we started talking about our love of the Rockies – mine, of Colorado, my husband’s of Montana, and his – of Star Valley, Wyoming.  And although I drove through Star Valley a couple of times, en route to Jackson, WY and Yellowstone Park, the name didn’t ring a bell.

What better way to learn what Star Valley is but to drive up there for the weekend, right?! Plus, it’s North of us – remember my rule: head North in the summer, South in the winter – just like a bird.

Our weekend in Afton, WY (the heart of Star Valley and its largest town, at around 1900 residents) was one of the most relaxing, peaceful, simple and no nonsense good weekends we have had in a long while. Just a small town atmosphere, with no clutter, no noise, not even from RV generators, with homemade, fresh food, and gorgeous landscape and hundreds of miles of. We went away to find again the quiet in us, and that, we did.  

Here are ten clues that you are in small town America – as we have found them during those two days about week ago:

1. When we pulled up to check into Old Mill Log Cabins, we found this “welcome” setting on the front porch of the owner’s cabin. Seeing the picture my mom asked “was that to protect you from animals? Or people?” – well, I guess it’s still the Wild West out there, mom, it could be either. Or both.
    
    
2. After we checked in, we were told to go right ahead, drive to our cabin, which is unlocked, with the key inside. Then, when we would leave on Sunday, she would like us to just leave the key inside the cabin, and leave the door unlocked. And have a nice stay!
   
   The barn at the Old Mill Log Cabins complex
3. We had dinner the first night at Rocky Mountain Seafood - how brave is that of us?!, to have clams and octopus and shrimp in the heart of the mountains, thousands of miles away from the ocean?! – and the  waitress kept hugging the customers as they left with “love you, hon' “ – all of them but us and this other couple that we knew as our neighbors from the cabin next door.
4. People from neighboring towns, that made the drive for a nicer dinner to Afton and are not quite familiar with the restaurant’s staff, assume that everyone who works there is related to each other. Most times that is a safe assumption. It was not such at Rocky Mountain Seafood but the staff understood the presumption completely.
   
   Subtle: a sign of the times, in a shop window
5. There is a quietness and boredom about small towns. Especially on a summer afternoon, you feel like the air stands still. Oh, that feeling of “there is nothing to do and we’re just rotting …”. After dinner, we walked up and down Main Street in Afton, and there were very few people out, especially for a Friday night. That feeling of boredom glided through the warm evening mountain air. Teens were driving up and down the street, with windows down, in packed cars going 20 miles an hour, yelling profanities to the scattered, chance pedestrians. Adds just a tad of color to the bucolic landscape.
   
   Downtown Afton, WY on a weekend
   
   
6. We stepped into one of the two gift stores in town and the shop assistant was an old man. He was welcoming without being pushy and extremely witty. He gave us directions to a well known trail where we’d enjoy the Bridger National Forest at its finest, and we felt almost obligated to buy something from him. Which we did. He then wrapped our purchases in local newspapers. I am thinking of framing them with my favorite picture of that weekend, should I have any wall space left in my house to hang it in.
   
   
   The trail runs parallel to Swift Creek, towards the Intermittent Spring.
7. Because of the city taking over The West, in larger towns deer is completely unfazed by their proximity to humans. Here, on the roads behind the cabins, they were still skittish at the sound of the car engine and would not sit still for a photo. Wilderness is still untouched out there …
8. We’re used to not only being seated by the host(ess) in restaurants everywhere we go, but to wait for a while (sometimes close to an hour or more) for a seat. But in Star Valley, there is no host(ess) and no wait for a table. You seat yourself – take your pick. It’s never crowded.
9. I grew up partly in a small, retreated town in the mountains of Romania. Every year, when I would make the journey back to it, I always noticed how things never changed. There is a feeling that history is frozen in time, at some point in the past, perpetually, every time you go back, in a remote mountain settlement. This feeling was revoked when we walked into The Elkhorn Restaurant (of course, on Main Street) and saw a framed picture of president John F. Kennedy over the deli counter.
10. The number one way to tell you’re in a small, remote town in the middle of nothing but God’s beauty is that you’ll be watching your phone looping around for cell, internet and GPS signal all weekend long and draining its battery into the ground. After a while, you give up trying to connect to the world “out there”, and realize there is a whole world “right here” that needs your attention. This (forced) shift of perspective is refreshing.

You turn off the “other” noisy world you come from and you learn of a new dimension that still exists in today’s universe, but it’s so often turned off for us, city dwellers. No matter how fast the world is being overpopulated and overbuilt, I hope humanity will manage to forget about the remote corners of the world, and leave them untouched, so we could go for a weekend and get reacquainted with ourselves, our thoughts, and un-mute our internal voices once again. 

Drinking from the fountain of pure, untouched beauty and simple life is the best reward we can give to our too tired, too rushed and too shallow bodies moving through the muck of the daily grind …

Click on the picture to see the entire album from this weekend.

The Most American Long Weekend of the Year

We live only an hour, at most, away from Snowbird Resort, but then again, we live about an hour away from anywhere worth going away. So, when we go to Snowbird for the weekend, my husband and I have sort of a tug-of-war between us over “we did go out of town” (he)  – “we didn’t go out of town” (me). Truth is … he is right: when we get up there, no matter how close to home it is, geographically, the air is cleaner and cooler, the pace is slower, the legs are lazier, the food is delicious, everything is a splurge, so it does feel like we are completely disconnected and on vacation.

We escaped to Snowbird this past long weekend, for July 4^th. It was definitely not your “traditional” July 4^th weekend, but it was a success, for us, nonetheless. As we were driving up there, we saw signs that fireworks were forbidden in the canyon - so that tells you that it was not going to be your regular Independence Day celebration up there.

We checked in, uneventfully, and then we headed out to dinner. The air was crisp and fresh, but not as cool as we had hoped for. The Valley floor temps were in the high 90’s, and Snowbird was not far off from that!  The air was fresher, though.

For dinner, we went to El Chanate, the first night. Every time I go to resorts around us, like Snowbird, Deer Valley and Park City, it puzzles me how I bump into very poor customer service everywhere – and I cannot, for the life of me, explain how these people stay in business! Our first night there was no exception: long waits, empty glasses, cold food, longer wait for  a bill … But all these could not damper our mood – improved significantly by the gorgeous mountain views, and watching deer graze on the slopes around us, and feeding the squirrels who were begging for tortilla chips on our patio.

This was July 4^th: Mexican food, served very painfully slow, and no fireworks – due to dry weather and being in the canyon. 

On July 5th, I finally had my "patriotic" hotdog in my patriotic (USA) shirt. Best foot long I had in a while, with giant pickle slices and mustard.

The next day, we went exploring: the mountain trails, the grounds and other restaurants. 

Aspen and rock - it's all that peaks of the mountains Utah is all about!

We had a blast, bad (occasional) service, millions of kids and all! We saw deer only 5-6 feet away while exploring a close by trail, woodchuck mommas and their babies, bees and birds, we slid above snow covered peaks, eagles, pine trees and aspens in our chair lift. We had the best foot long hotdog (what’s more “American” than that, right?!) and relaxed by the pool, in total and complete abandon. The day felt like 48 hours long! 

    

The wild flowers were amazing! A feast for the eyes, and for the bees, flies and ants, just the same ...

We ate, we napped, we watched TV, we ate things we don’t normally eat (smoked salmon on pancakes, anyone?!), we saw gorgeous landscape and we people watched till silly! We are so lucky and so blessed to afford this, and to be able to drive just 60 minutes away from our front yard, to wash our retinas, be wowed and breathe clean air. 

 

All these guys were feet away from our hotel - so friendly and curious - were we trespassing their land?! Or just sharing?!

 

Nothing says "lazy weekend" to me than laying by a pool - this time, with mountains and pines all around ...

 

 

   

One of my favorite pastimes is to take the chair lift to the top of the mountain. The views from Hidden Peak were breathtaking. There was a breeze in the air, and there was not one bead of sweat on my forehead! We slid by rock, snow, mountain lakes and streams and the occasional eagle ...

 

My breakfast at The Atrium, one morning: smoked salmon, pancakes, fruit, raspberry, cheese crepes and seasoned potatoes ...

   

More food: a glass of white zin, black cod on a fried rice cake and French Vanilla creme brulee with fresh berries

Back home, growing up, we always only dreamed about “those Americans” who work long hours all year round, to only to run away for the weekend and recharge. It’s what the movies showed us.

Well, now, I live it: this is truly a great county, and dreams of long weekends filled with battery recharging activities and vistas really do come true!

I hope everyone had a safe, happy, relaxing and full July Fourth Weekend!

Here’s to an American summer!

 

Please click picture to see the whole album from this trip. 

July Fourth

This year is going to be my 16th July Fourth on this land.

On my first one, I was  watching the fireworks at Broadway at the Beach, in Myrtle Beach, SC. 
I had no (legal) job. I was  a brand new American wife, with a head full of dreams and a door wide open. 

Every year, on this day, I think of that day - the hopes and dreams and carelessness and ... hope. Lots of hope. I had no idea what the future held. I was dreaming of MY version of the "American dream", I suppose: a warm home, a steady income, a clean job, a neat garden with roses up front. Simple things. 

I could not even dream, at that point, about my life 16 years from then. 
16 years would have seemed like an unrealistic, unfathomable pipe dream.

But I am here to tell you: 16 years from that first  July Fourth, life is everything I dreamed of , and then some. All the dreams and hopes have been fulfilled and then some, beyond belief. 
I am grateful, happy, and still in awe. And I am here to tell you: I am glad that my parents taught me that  it's OK to ... dream. It's in the dreams that everything starts. So, don't be afraid of them. They will give you the map!

Like a true non-American, I still hate peanut butter. 
Like a true (imported) American, I still love freedom.
And because I am simply, undeniably "me", it all works out at the end of the day.

I am grateful every second of every day for what life and America has given me. I can never fully feel like I belong, but I can always and forever feel grateful. 
When I hear the news about the people that are sending their children here, for a better, free life, I just want to walk (yes, walk!) to them and adopt them all. I want to tell them that, yes, it's possible and yes, they should keep trying. Whatever their dreams are, they are becoming reality here. So, they should keep trying and they should keep dreaming.  
Freedom and happiness and ... another day, full of hope, unrestricted sun rises and no worries ... are possible.

Happy Birthday, America! 
And thank you for having me at the Big Party for yet another year!

Hydrangeas in the Desert

“The greatest wealth is to live content with little.” (Plato)

I can’t believe it’s the end of June already. Half a year – just gone. Time flies, and we grow old. Not much we can do about it, I s’ppose, other than wake up every morning trying to make it better, more fruitful, or, why not, simpler …

My friends are out there traveling the world. Others are being promoted to the title of their dreams. Others are yet getting more and more degrees in education so high it makes me dizzy. There are people building families, and others picking up the pieces after demolishing them. People conquering diseases and others writing books and building a home with their bare hands.

I have respect and awe for all these challenges and accomplishments of all people I meet every day. But today, for me, I am just simply grateful once again for every nugget of quiet in my life. For every breath of every day and for every day, however unexpectedly it decides to creep up on me.

Today, I am just grateful for the sunset on my back porch and that for the first time in three years, my hydrangea decided to bloom, in the desert. Today, life is simple and quiet. As quiet and simple as rain drops on leaves … 

 

Fire, Cheap Beer and Butterflies

" I thank you God for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees, and for the blue dream of sky and for everything which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes." (e. e. cummings)

That, right there, pretty much summarizes my camping craving and my camping trips.

Last year, we didn't go camping. And let me tell you: I am still mourning that predicament.

This year, we're planning for several trips, but we got at least one in before the summer leaves us, on Hobble Creek Canyon, right above our house.  Mostly.

Here's the story of that weekend, in pictures that speak louder than I could. 

There is something esoteric about a camp fire. Something metaphysical and deeper than the regular human realm, that projects your mind into deep thought, looking for even deeper meaning, just like ocean waves or sunsets. We have a fire-pit at home, but we almost never use it. The fire in the woods, wrapped up in trees, loneliness and cicadas' noise is what our summer dream is all about

   

 The butterflies were insane this year! So many species and sizes and colors and they were everywhere ... When we crossed the river, we almost had to step on them to be able to step on the rocks to carry us over to the other side.

 

... and this is what I mean: butterflies on the rocks in the river. My favorite spot to camp is by a stream. There is nothing more soothing than falling asleep with the sound of the water hitting the hard rock - the most perfect music ever written ... We were lucky enough to find this spot this year, and although the campground is fairly small, we shall be back - for the stream, and the quiet, and the butterflies ...

 

This log reminded me of a Texas longhorn - right?!  

 

I have never camped in a spot where there were so many bugs! Just all sorts of bugs, but mostly, these red ones. In Romania, we call them The Lord's Roaches, and you can't squish them, because it's a sin. I didn't kill them on purpose, for sure, but they were so many, like a blanket on the ground where we laid our tent, that some of them fell as victims, I am sure. They're beautiful and do no harm at all.

 

   

The food - of course, the food! We had Bush's baked beans, Hebrew National hotdogs and baked potatoes the first night. I can still taste the brown sugar in those beans! The smoke of the fire does something else to them ...

 

What can be better in the morning than fresh eggs and a side of meat - this time, Canadian bacon - fried in a cast iron skillet, like it's meant to be?! Oh, yeah, and leftover hotdog buns are great for dipping in that semi-soft yolk!

 

 

Dinner the second night was chicken, peppers, corn and potatoes in a garlic sauce, all sauteed over the fire. And eating it straight from the "pot" is how you do it at campsite ...

 

  

My drink of choice, usually, when I camp. Just pure American water-y beer is the perfect  drink on a warm summer night. Would you believe they made the can "popper" so stylish as to copy the shape of the Budweiser crown?! Attention to detail is something else ... 

 

This was just one sneak peek from our hike that weekend - it was a picture perfect day, with clear skies and not too hot. Everything is so green, so vibrant, so full of noise and color and life, even in this drought we're having ...  

That's me, dirty, sweaty and unkempt. Yep, the "real" me, at campsite. I am looking into the future, and hoping  that there is a tent in every summer that the good Lord will indulge me to have ...