Interlude 2: Boulder (Colorado)

Autor: Daniel Hromada | 26.7.2009 o 3:55 | Karma článku: 2,04 | Prečítané:  1161x

Two days ago I had a feeling that I felt in love with a city. In fact it's not still a city, it's rather a town. Oh yes, rather a town and its name is Boulder, Boulder, Colorado. Located 50km out of Denver on the very bottom of Rocky Mountains – oh yes, directly there where the prairie ends and the mountain starts, right there in the center where the influence of the cravate-oh-we're-so-cool-Cambridge-guys East coast ends -ends but is still present, oh yes right there where this hippie-van-we-just-came-from-California-you-know force starts, right there in the cowboygirl dusty semidesert I felt in love with a city, or...rather a town.

Two days ago I had a feeling that I felt in love with a city. In fact it's not still a city, it's rather a town. Oh yes, rather a town and its name is Boulder, Boulder, Colorado. Located 50km out of Denver on the very bottom of Rocky Mountains – oh yes, directly there where the prairie ends and the mountain starts, right there in the center where the influence of the cravate-oh-we're-so-cool-Cambridge-guys East coast ends -ends but is still present, oh yes right there where this hippie-van-we-just-came-from-California-you-know force starts, right there in the cowboygirl dusty semidesert I felt in love with a city, or, rather a town.

The whole first rendez-vous took just few hours and in the end wasn't success at all, in fact it was quite an « echec » ooh yes. Train from Chicago to Denver was 7 hours late – omg! What the hell are You doing out there with Your rails, sometimes its even worse than Mongolia! - 7 hours late and hence the professor I wanted to meet had already disappeared from his bureau. Credit card lost, 20hours in train without nothing more to eat than few olives, biscuits and on-a-table-found-slovak-parenica-like-cheese, headache on its way, heavy backpack on my back, me voilà going all the way to the outskirts of this city to find out that the bureau is empty, but c'est la vie, I already understood that Masters of the art have usually other things to do than wait for unknown parvenus.

But the bureau next to it wasn't and within few minutes I started a chat with an open-minded Indian doctorant. Wow, what a research are doing out there -hoographic representation meaning and things like that!-  what an ambiance! I ask: « Do I have to be millionnaire to do my PhD. Here or does it suffice to be just motivated? » and the smile-associated-answer goes: « No, You don't need to be a millionnaire, and as it seems » guy points to the backpack «You're quite motivated »

He gave me few contacts, I gave him one of those seven copies of the Poem – sorry Pillar, I really wanted to give it You, but somehow intuition commanded me to the otherwise!- that one which I used during my bachelor's thesis defense and which is in the worst state, after all those travels; maybe he'll throw it away, maybe he'll got inspired, who knows. He took me to the city, shew me (oh yes, Mr. Chomsky, SHEW me...) the Shambhala meditation centre – verily does Shambhala follow me everywhere, verily she is omnipresent for me as the cross is for those infected by christianity...

An expensive pizza in the very core of Pearl street, an expensive pizza but worth it after a day of semi-fasting, la serveuse even borrowed me here mobile phone – are You people here all from heaven or what? I call Julien – a friend of a friend of a friend You know – Yes, I can sleep at his place, no, it's not a good idea to go sleep into the forrest with those bears and pumas and ll that unpredictability You know.

I start the hike anyway – I was supposed to take the bus (they call their buses HOP & JUMP You know) – but I walked instead, walked past the hippie vans, crossing the water sprinkling irrigation systems « Water is the source of life You know » - flirting doucement with the local girls. And then hereIam – in the fields, in the forrest and up the hill to those famous rockclimbing Flatirons.


Few chats with the locals – they seem to spend their free time doing hikes! - still up I go, into the sunset-already-over darkening forrest. I leave my backpack in the bushes, I change my shoes near those piles of stones ressembling the Mongolian ovoos, up! Up! into the mountains, at least for a while , a little while.

After few minutes, I turn. Because of those more and more virtual pumas and bears and coyottes maybe, but mostly I'm simply too old a dog, too much comfort-seeking, too much socialized already – to establish myself in the midst of a new social reseau seems to be more important than to sleep in the forrest, oh yes it's sad but it's like that, dad... Find backpack, descend towards the blinking diadem of that evening city, write a texto to the guy who'll come forwards to see thee.

Be amazed, be amazed because it seems that these folks here don't have fences between their houses...

It's as beautiful, as full of inspiration as russian Akademgorodok, but free, free, without those militia guys all the time glued to Your ass.

Julien is a nice guy, shows me some other nice cityview, on parle en francais in the  evening, on parle en francais with his pynchon reading wife as well. Then  a shower, then a comfortable bad, early morning wakeup – and we speak english this time- bus station and Denver again.

Call to the VISAcard centre, called transfered twice, thrice (oh yes, THRICE) , call for free – very well defined procedures folks - all those « oh we're so sorry that You lost Your card » everywhere, in the end the card is blocked, I'm on my way to SaltLakeCity, doing pranayama in the observation car and the world is in order

Oh yes, the world is in order 'cause it seems that I've found my Western Shambhala, oh yes, the world is in order because there is still some elan vitale flow going on this continent which was, jadis, filled with so many hopes.

Oh yes, the world is one order 'cause one can still LIVE his american daydream, no matter what You say dear Pillar, one can still cross with dignitas his american MAYA.

May that dream be subtle and beautiful. May an awakening from that dream hurts as least as possible – not at all please, if possible.

Let's pass the Turing test.

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