The Urban Fox

The fall season is an incredible time to take in more local enjoyments.  I wrote last week about the travel itch returning, and it  remains, but with leaves falling and a good bit of warmth still in the air, home is a nice place to wander. And amazing things do happen right in our own front yards . . .

Fox sightings were once a regular occurrence around our neighborhood.  While we played beanbag toss with a large group of our friends last summer, one fox sat on the neighbor’s lawn across the street, watching the entire corn hole competition before going out for his evening hunt. And one night as we headed out to dinner, not one, but four foxes roamed our street. We haven’t seen them much lately, and I wonder if they’ve moved on or met a worse fate.

So when I walked to my car one morning headed for work, I was glad to see two foxes sitting under the oak tree next door.  As usual, they didn’t act surprised or startled to see me, they remained lying down, ears erect, eyes alert, observing my moves and keeping watch on the neighborhood. Continue reading

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All This Way For Home

It’s a cool, fall morning, but it’s clear the sun will warm us up later.  A few trees in the park near our house have begun to turn to yellow while others remain that magnificent glowing green.  I decide on going for a stroll around the lake in the park to see the colors, and the reflections of geese and ducks swimming across the glassy water.  A quiet roar of Sunday morning traffic passes on the highway and I chuckle at the constant contrast of peacefulness and energy that surrounds even my morning walks. Suddenly I realize I’m home, that I’ve settled back into the lovely routine of the rooted life.  So of course what happens? I take a moment to reflect on why I travel, why that itch to be on the move creeps into my bones even on the most stunning of weekend mornings.

– On a train to Lao from Thailand. The middle of the night. Half fog, half consciousness of anti-malaria medicine inducing hallucinatory dreams, vivid but unable to remember. I shouldn’t be reading Ed Abbey’s “Hayduke Lives”  as I’m now being chased by a bull-dozer and the inevitable destruction of nature.

– Sitting street side in a little cafe in Hoi-An, Vietnam. The constant sound of Kenny G elevator music or Disney’s instrumental classical hits without lyrics, and the likes of those god-awful 80s love ballads. The hornet buzz of motos grows comforting.

My Son, ancient Hindu Tombs on the demilitarized zone between old North and South Vietnam.  There are ghosts here.  Many. Tourists overrun sacred spaces; I am one of them.

– Walking through the recreated mind of Ho Chi Minh in a surrealist museum dedicated to his biography.  I gain new perspectives on the War with America, communism, and humble leadership in his small stilt house. We dine at restaurants that give Hanoi street kids a second chance.  Continue reading

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A Few Shades of Travel

Colorado’s fall colors are a site not to be missed. Since moving to the Rocky Mountain State, I’ve made sure we spend at least two or three weekends every leaf-changing season to explore some of the rainbowed aspen groves.  On the top of my list: supposedly one of the largest living organism in the world (aspens are connected by a shared root system), the aspen grove near Kebler Pass just outside Crested Butte.  It’s nearly four hours from Denver, so though we’ve been once before, never during the full glory of fall.

We took the long way to get there, traveling through historic Leadville and then over the subalpine terrain of Independence Pass to the upscale streets of Aspen, still trumped by the changing foliage of actual aspens in the hills above. Continue reading

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IKEA? Get Me to thee Brewery!

Last Sunday, Lindsay and I planned a portion of our day around making the journey to south Denver’s newest addition, IKEA.  Now this portion of town might not be as ambitious as our recent overseas adventures, but it takes a bit of planning and prepping to make the 30 minute drive from our house to the Denver Tech Center. So, we went for it.  And as we approached the massive blue building from the freeway off-ramp, with the store sign reaching into the sky higher than any grand Rocky Mountain pine and the line of traffic backed-up nearly a mile, I knew we were in for something spectacular.

We finally made our way into the parking structure, when we looked at one another and commented on how it felt like our car was being pulled into a blue hole.  I immediately flashed on Star Wars and the way space craft entered the Death Star: the force brought Hans Solo and other rebel fighters through its galactic gates.  Was the force drawing us in?  Were we in a galaxy far, far away? Continue reading

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Olfactory Musings

 As Lindsay and I reach the summit of Guanella Pass with the windows rolled down, high on the Front Range of Colorado, the distinct aromatic qualities of Fall tickle my nose. This sense of smell, which we often under-utilize, reminds me of the role senses play in triggering our memories. Continue reading

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Boulder Beer Rave . . . Bodacious

Yes, it’s true, I just used the word bodacious for the first time since wearing one of my twenty-two pairs of M.C. Hammer parachute pants in the 1st grade, circa 1990. And I didn’t use the word bodacious because it shared lovely alliteration with “Boulder Beer,” (although what a fine coincidence). I used bodacious because it fit the bill for an event with 40 different types of small batch beer from all over Colorado, few, if any, lines to taste said beer, and the backdrop of the Boulder sky and the Rocky Mountains. Continue reading

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Waking from a Dream

I had hoped to write the day I returned; then I told myself the one-week point. Finally, I promised myself that the one-month mark would be the exact right moment. All has passed. And what first felt like a crisp, raw adventure in Southeast Asia when we arrived back in LAX on the eve of August 4th, now feels most certainly like a dream. A dream I woke up from long ago, a dream that exists only in memory. Continue reading

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After the Romance Goes

I’m sitting on floor cushions at a table decorated by jasmine flowers, candle light, and a deep red tablecloth with a royal purple table runner. A man plays traditional music on a multi-stringed lap instrument behind me, and a table of curries and frog legs and sticky rice waits in front of me. From over the balcony, an evening breeze, a breeze perfectly suited to roll in after the heavy rain of a moment ago, cools my neck.  Following the day 0f sight seeing and market exploring and magic of Phnom Penh, this is yet another idyllic moment of an idyllic journey. Continue reading

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Will You Share This With Me?

Upon leaving a quiet reflection time at the temple where Cambodian Buddhism began, the monk sitting ‘guard’ at the door stopped us and made some general conversation.  He soon asked us what we were carrying in our bag and as we showed him the beautiful cookbook we just purchased from the Friends’ Restaurant (www.mithsamlanh.org/) he showed us quite a bit of excitement. He immediately asked us to sit down and share the book with him. Continue reading

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Do I Write This?

As a self-proclaimed travel writer, I find myself often faced with a rather unanswerable dilemma: what do I spend my time writing about?  Many of my “postcards” reveal the romance of travel . . . and surely this is fun and important, but should I be discussing the social implications and human atrocities of poverty and economic development I see here everyday? Or should I even write about some of the places I describe?  What if my writing causes a flood of tourism to a place I found so quiet and peaceful and filled with local life, (something many would describe as “the authentic,” which most every traveler, whether aware of or not, is ultimately searching to discover), thus destroying the very thing I found so magical? This of course assumes that more than a dozen people are even reading these passages. None-the-less, it’s a necessity that I consider the implications of my written, (or electronic), words. Continue reading

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