The Plymothian Chronicles: A (Re)Introduction

Picture Courtesy of Damir Huskic
As you may have noticed, the last post in the "Denver Do" series centered on the crowning Do of all Done: moving out of Denver completely. The Denver Do was intended to be a practical, budget-friendly guide to leisure for those new to/seeking newness in Denver. It is therefore impossible to continue the Denver Do from my new locale, Plymouth (United Kingdom). I gladly invite any curious, word-savvy Denverite to pick up the Torch of Do. I've got a new fire to burn: The Plymothian Chronicles!
After receiving positive feedback about the Do series, I've decided that the Plymothian Chronicles utilize that Do-filled model. They are geared toward the newcomer, the expat, or the generally curious. (It's easy to orient toward the very market from which one writes, you see). As expats, we will explore the city's best offers to it's oft-solo and budget-minded "locals." What is it like to live somewhere, have a free weekend there, and be just a little bit foreign? What does one do when they are alone, car-less, money-shy and staring at an empty day resting before them like a perfectly clean room just before two toddlers arrive? Let the Plymothian chronicles guide you, dear Reader, and you're sure to experience such small explosions and rippling giggles.
You may be thinking, "Gosh, I bet [insert small city name here] is such a boring place. I'm only here for [insert economic incentive or love interest's name here] and will probably leave in a year anyway. Why bother to explore this city when I can go to [insert romantic, unrealistic, and warm destination here]." Well, my friend, because you are curious, stuck, and cultured (or trying to become that way). You know that sometimes the most fulfilling excursions begin and end with the comfort of your own bed. That you love the sound of the keys of your laptop clicking away as you reflect upon your wonderful and miniature discoveries. Yes, you can hike to the top of a Jain shrine in Hampi, India, to view the thousands-year-old ruins dotting the countryside around you. Or, you can stumble upon a Civil War era farm still being tilled using traditional methods on a random forest jog in Pittsboro, North Carolina. Both of these experience incite wisdom, awe, and energy. One of them just happens to end in a home-cooked meal, courtesy of your friend's mom.
At some point in life, I believe that we all feel a bit foreign in our respective city. Maybe we lived there for years. We realize that in our complacency we never visited a new museum or took time to try a Mom-n-Pop corner breakfast bar. I mean, what are we going to do with our friends when they come visit?! Or you may, like myself and so many others, find yourself actually foreign but not travelling. You will be "living" somewhere, maybe for a finite time and or specific reason. You will be local enough to have an address but foreign enough to look, sound, and think differently. In both these cases you will be curious. In both these cases, the microcosm of the macrcosm in which you currently find yourself has wonderful, wacky, and weird possibilities. They are waiting to be explored. All you need is clothes with pockets, a comfortable pair of shoes, and a credit card (just in case).
In the next section of the Plymothian Chronicles, we will explore a brief background of Plymouth before launching into the first travel guide, "Snooze on a Sunday."

The Denver Do: Move to Plymouth

Overview: Up to this point, the Denver Do has focused on getting you, my friends and fellow travelers, assimilated and creative in Denver. It was a series aimed at transplants to the little city. Well, my articles must have been so great that so many of you transplants showed up and pushed me right out! The Denver Do now focuses on what a Denver-ite ought to do when traveling the world. The first episode is Step 1: migrate! Join me, Do-ers, as I guide you through this next series of fun, economical, and silly adventures...
Expected Cost: Variable. Ways to save include booking flights on Icelandair, where popular conspiracy theorists surmise that every flight encounters an unexpected layover in the capital. Once there, you will surely decide that staying in the airport all day is less desirable that paying who-knows-what in Icelandic currency to day-trip to the Blue Lagoon. Moreover, costs of the move can be displaced by the sales of personal items, like bikes/ cars/ apartments, and the good luck to smile at the right stranger. Therefore, this Denver-ite recommends you save $4,000 USD, pray for a job when you arrive, and dive in.
Solo Savvy: This trip is best when taken alone. After all, saving money and exploring is much easier when you've only got one mouth to feed and two legs to guide.
Expected Time: Total transit from Denver to Iceland to London to Plymouth, for this traveler, was around 30 hours. Variables include burst pipes on planes, forays into natural fountains, the good graces of a kind-hearted employer, compassionate cab-drivers from Romnania, and more.
Requirements: Three large suitcases; international chargers for electronic devices; flexibility that allows one to fold in half to sleep in transit; being at least 18 years of age, so when all is lost, one can apply the age-old coping mechanisms of beer and barstools.
The Do: The most important part of this "do" is following the guidelines outlined in my previous post, "Intentuition." To begin with, let The World know about your goals. Decide that you will be nice and confidant with every person you meet and begin meeting them. Start small: put in some applications to see why you are denied...sell a few household items you definitely don't need...nurture the ideas of senior citizens and fathers...continuously re-evaluate your expectations and your gut. If possible, get a job, but if not possible, have faith that the World Machine will probably recognize your lack of income and adjust accordingly. Move in with your grandparents for a month and get a second job at a "fast-casual" restaurant so that you can save money. Added benefits include free food and re-learning the ability to be with people 24/7 after years of living alone (a handy skill when one encounters "flatmates" upon arrival). Book your trip in advance but pay the extra money to avoid too many layovers- you will save money by not losing your luggage or your brain. Smile honestly when you put your two-weeks in; say goodbye.
You will most definitely encounter "problems" when traveling, which should be interpreted as little opportunities. For instance, you will most likely get stuck in Iceland. Iceland makes its money by allowing people like you to get stuck within it's volcanic borders, so say "thank-you" and book the bus to the Blue Lagoon. Don't waste money on a swimsuit in case you didn't pack one on your carry-on; wear a sports bra and stretchy gym pants because it's Europe so nobody cares. Or, if they do, you don't. Promptly float to the furthest corner and dig your hands into the mineral sand on the bottom of the weird bath/lake. Coat your face in the white sludge and float, head above water, to the nearest rock-seat. Pass out carefully, because if you let your head roll you will find yourself snoring into a mixture of water and sludge. Pause mid-nap to purchase a cold salmon salad for threethousandjillionIcelandicdollars; grab a juice; and fall back asleep. Retreat to the locker room with plenty of time to spare. You will have to be creative with your shower/changing, because you're probably not prepared for this excursion and may need to reallocate personal items to serve as towels, shoes, etc. Make sure you stop by the bar to buy a beer before hopping back on the bus to the airport!
If at all possible, try to organize a cab to take you from the airport in London to your home in Plymouth. All that beer and spring water will make you tired. Your cab driver is a great first conversational resource to keep you awake and excited. Ask him where he's from, because it's probably not London. Don't worry about falling asleep in mid-sentence; it makes me you seem "mysterious" or "insane," which are both perfectly interesting and acceptable things to be. Hopefully, you will arrive to a group of flatmates shouting "USA" in "football" cheers, beers in hand. Smile graciously, chug your beer, and thank God that you are tired enough to fall asleep despite the noise.
That's all for this week, Do-ers. You've got quite the adventure ahead of you. Remember the key lessons of Intentuition, be prepared to be completely unprepared, and giggle the entire way. The World Machine is on your side!

Intentuition

Intentuition: The reflective and faithful active pursuit of one's dreams; best when used in conjunction with "wine" and "Zumba."

I am currently sitting in a greasy-spoon café at Denver International Airport waiting for my infinitely delayed Icelandic flight. It will take me to Reykjavik, where I will attempt to woo a cute Icelandic boy before my connection to Gatwick, London. Then, I will not attempt to woo Clive, the nice man my new company hired to drive me to Plymouth, UK. When I arrive, I will be "here:" the pinnacle of my most recent ambition. I will be here because a few months ago I decided that it was time for me to get serious about checking one big item off my bucket list: to live and work abroad. Rather than plummet toward my goal like March 3000 jet(a route for which I boast many frequent flyer miles), I decided to tie a scarf around my neck and cruise in on the wings of a glider. And in this decidedly observant focus on my dream, I learned the power of two words: intention and intuition.
Any halfway new-age (annually or mentally) person has probably encountered some pseudo-yogi or dreamy entrepreneur talk about "setting an intention" for whatever pursuit they find thieves in. In the 90's the same concept was explored through workshops about "vision boards;" in the 80's, it was found in self-help books about "visualizing your dreams coming true." In the 70's, I believe this was called "take acid while hitchhiking," but I might be wrong about that (I'm only 25, see). Although the term "intention" may be a new buzzword, it's simply the new means to explain the power of positive thought. When these confidant yogis and executives describe "setting an intention," it can seem like some sort of magical process. Want it, see it, believe it, live it. Buy now for an instant rebate! However, I think intention actually has a lot more to do with another fundamental principle in self-realization: setting goals. For instance, "I intend to eat a cookie" is less likely to come true unless paired with an actionable means of pursuit; I.e. "I intend to get all the ingredients I need to make and eat a cookie." We can intend anything we want, but unless we put ourselves in the right position to receive it, it's actualization is akin to miraculous. Isn't "I intend to get wet" a lot more sensical than "I intend it to rain?"
I readily acknowledge the vagaries and benefits of setting intentions around qualitative values and self-fulfillment. "I intend to live a happy, healthy life" is the goal of one important woman I know (my Mom, duh). In that expansive intention, she doesn't always know how to explicitly state what will lead to happiness or health. In fact, it's counterproductive to create a set of rules around that intention. You are going to be a lot happier if you intend to wear sunglasses on a bright day, for instance. Herein lies the real difficulty in intending something to be true: setting intentions involves a certain allotment for that which cannot be controlled. To really grab an intention, you must also let go of so many attempts to control it. An intention really means, "I am going to be really good and hopefully Santa/God will notice." How does one know when our intentions pull us too far from the nearest airport? How do they know when to replace the gas line with the top of the clouds? That determination is called intuition.
Intuition allows us to know when our souls want something. It shows us when to take and when to leave, when to try harder or to stop trying, and when you better hop on that jet because the glider is so obsolete. I don't think that this grand adventure on which I now embark could have worked 1/2 as well if I hadn't navigated my intention with a constant intuitive dialogue. I decided from day one that this needed to be a gradual process. I chose a route that felt valid but kept snacks onboard just in case. It involved a lot of outward discussion: What does my Dad think about this economic decision? Does my former boss think this job would be a good fit? Am I about to sublet my apartment to a crazy woman? I listened, slept on it, and then made a move. Rinse and repeat. And guess what? With each minor intention, my planes assembled themselves for liftoff. I took some advice and applied for a job...and got an interview...and an offer...and a flat...and a friend...and a flight...What was this luck, I kept wondering? I rode that wind of delight. I acted when acting felt right and went to bed when my Grandma did. Intuitively, I just knew that my ambitions would find their way directly to my intentions, if I stayed observant within them. Intuitively, enough people and Zumba classes just made it feel right.
I don't think I could have achieved this goal if it hadn't been for many years of delayed flights. And considering that this plane still hasn't lifted off, I bet I'll have quite a few more. But guess what? I know I'll get here! Somehow, I intuitively understand that this is here and where I'm going. I've set the intuitive intention. Maybe I'll end up back on my parent's couch tonight or next year. But hey, I hear the new jetliners have beds in them. There's nowhere to go but up!

The Denver Do: Golden Days

Overview: This edition of the "Denver Do" takes you to the gorgeous Golden, Colorado. While it's most fun on warm days (which means year-round in Colorado), there are also indoor options. It is possible to take the new lightrail line to Golden, but I'm not super familiar with that route. This is an excellent solo or partner trip!
Expected Cost: Gas or lightrail to Golden= ~$5; Museum tour, Farmers Market or hike= free; lumch or dinner = ~$10-$20.
Solo Savvy?: Absolutely! But it's also fun with 1-2 friends. The trail is thin and a bit packed, so I wouldn't recommend more than that. (It's an awesome date...)
Expected Time: 2-4 hours, depending on the agenda you choose.
Requirements: $5 to pay for lightrail plus willingness to research the bus schedule from the lightrail into Golden. Or a vehicle.
The Do: Get yourself to Main Street Golden (Washington). Head North past all of the shops and across the river until you reach 10th Street. Now, you must decide your agenda. Take a look to your West, above the mountains: Do you see rain in the forecast? Lick your pointer finger and stick it up above your head. Is the temperature moderate? Take note of your belly (are you hungry?) and your legs (do they want to work?). Using these very scientific calibrations, choose your fire: Hiking the Chimney Gulch and Lookout Mountain Trails or visiting the Golden History Museum.
If you chose to hike, drive past the library on your left into the Lions Park parking lot. Park for free in front of the baseball fields. Suit up and head West along the river. In summer you will see all the people tubing and rafting (FYI, that's another super-fun way to spend a day). Continue along the river until you come to a bridge; cross the bridge; go right onto the trail at the "Chimney Gulch" trailhead begin your hike. You will cross Lookout Mountain Road a few times and eventually pop out at a gorgeous scenic spot halfway up the mountain. Choose to end your hike here or continue to the top of the Lookout Mountain (there's port-a-potties). There is a restroom, general store, and picnic spots at the top; feel free to ignore the meal plans below and make this your final destination! Also note that Golden has a fantastic Farmer's Market on Saturdays in the Library parking lot, perfect for lunch purchases.
If you chose to visit the Golden History Museum, turn right off Washington Street. The museum is directly on your left. There are many layers to the museum, some of which are free and some of which have a price. See here: http://www.goldenhistory.org/. It's chock-full of hiking folklore. In researching this "Do" I also noticed that there's a Quilt Museum across the street. I presume that might be fascinating, as well, and recommend adding that to your tour.
When you are finished with your hike/tour, walk South along Washington. Feel free to stop by the cute stores, hang out on the bridge over the river, and partake in general merry-making. Eventually, you will come to the Table Mountain Inn on your right. This is my first recommendation for food especially if it's nice out. Sit on the front patio, get the salmon salad and a drink (they've got a phenomenal red-blend), and people-watch. If you're on a budget and have time to wait, I would also suggest ordering the self-serve salad bar at Woody's Wood-Fired pizza across the street. It's one of the few salad bars you can still find in the city and a good one at that! Just beware that I've never been to Woody's and NOT had to wait, so if you're tuckered from your hike/tour, this might make you feel "hangry" (hungry-angry).
Congrats! You've done another do! Now go home and chill out, or partake in my next adventure: Red Rocks for Locals.

Timefullness

David Addor, my timefull friend // Over dinner the other night, my little sisters came to the shocking realization that I will be turning 25 in just a few months. As if their own 13 and 16 years were nothing to balk at. "25?!" they screeched (why can't girl's go through the voice-changing cycle like boys, by the way?). Where had time gone? // Eventually, the conversation turned to the Historic Elitches Theatre, the most recent community-building, non-profit board-serving my parents have undertaken. The Elitches Theatre (located on Tennyson Street in Highlands) is raising money for a re-vamp by showing bi-weekly films featuring the "timeless" movies and characters of the past. As viewers sigh over the images of late, remembering the stars they can remember like their own Auntie Lee, many of them murmur, "Oh, to be timeless..." // That statement got me thinking, though. Looking over my nearly-25 years of time, I have begun to think that I really don't want to be timeless. What does "timeless" mean, anyway? It means you stick in the ages, so to speak. You find that point, the ultimate plateau, and never rise past it. You are immortalized forever as that moment in which you were great, or horrible, but so utterly YOU that nothing was ever before it and nothing was ever after it. Timeless isn't human. // Unless you're blue and in Avatar (please call me if you are), we're all human. So why strive to be timeless? Why not, much more sensically, embrace being timefull? // I want to be timefull. I want to die so timefull that I don't have a grain of sand left in my soul. When I look at my nearly-25 years, I see so much time- and I feel grateful. My body, my mind, my surroundings, the things my eyes allow me to see- all are a testament of my time. My long nails? Time won against biting them. A casual walk to the store with my sisters? Time developing our relationship. The scar on my leg? That time I cheated in hide-and-seek and suffered immediate karma (I fell off a metal desk in off-limits land). My hesitation to commitment? That time called "2011" and the times when, even now, I miss an ex. // What about my future? I invest in my Roth IRA so that I can have a timefull retirement. What about this blog? A testament to trail runs, sleep, and detox after a July timefull of parties. // Why would I want to freeze? How could I ignore what's been melted? How dare I hope this moment never ends! Because I know that time-well-spent NOW illustrates time-well-spent YESTERDAY, and leads to time-well-spent SOON. Of course, time always brings woe. Yet hoping for timelesness only perpetuates the inability to deal with imperfection. So why not live timefully, in whatever way time presents? // Cheers, to timefullness!

Emily, William, Ariel, and Grace

The first time I became aware of the pervasiveness of my name was during middle school registration. My mom and I shuffled up to the sign-in table, where we were required to fill my name on several forms. I was then granted numerical identifiers to log my existence in miscellaneous Excel tracking mechanisms. People like Antoinette DeGeorge weren't requested to enter their middle initial and received identifiers like "ad1." As I proudly penned "Stewart, Emily" into the appropriate boxes, the administrator cooed, "Oh, we're definitely going to need at least a middle initial. Actually, can you enter your full middle name? There's just so many Emilys..." I gave her a blank stare. Who knew my Mom? My numerical differentiators looked more like an equation than a value: "101988emilyes" or "23456estewart" or "e2s5t6." That was because Emily Williams was in my homeroom, and Emily Johnson was in biology, and Emily Margaret Stewart was in 8th grade and on my soccer team, and my best friend was Emily Norton.
After so many flowers delivered to the wrong Emily (what a let-down) and responding to people not calling to me (also a let-down), I've toyed with the idea of another name. In college I often told annoying frat boys that my name was Esmerelda; that was fun, until I actually started to like one of them. He kept taking Esmerelda on dates- I got jealous. On my resume and my email address I list myself as "Emily Tonelli Stewart" and "Emily Elizabeth Stewart," hoping for a memorable boost. But the name I most desire in these last few weeks is actually less of an identifier and more of a reference tool, an actionable reminder: Grace.
The last three weeks have tested my grace. It is important to note that the assumptive corollary to that statement- "Emily possesses grace"- is not necessarily correct. I've had car failure, bed bugs, needy South American colleagues, resigning bosses, and the death of a person dear to my heart. I've been in the car a lot (my LEAST graceful sphere) and felt guilty a lot (it's hard to act graceful when one's conscience squirms). I just keep trying to remember to act gracefully and find myself doing the exact opposite. Maybe if my name was Grace it would be easier to remember; every one of those fumigation notices and South American emails and rental car receipts would also remind me to act with some poise. Of course, there are other names that might help me weather the tempest, and a good investigator eliminates all options before theorizing. Shall we examine other appellations?
It's become popular for parents to name their children after impressive dead people, like Napoleon and William (the Conquerer) and Alexander (the Great). This isn't such a bad idea. It would remind me to approach each wave with a weapon and a strategy. It would allow me to overcome enemies and create empires. But, it would entail lots of marching, trampling and blood-letting. I'm pretty good at that already. I think developing and nurturing relationships, rather than conquering and imposing, is a better course of action at this point.
I could be "Caressa." That kind of sounds like "caress," which would mean approaching my life in the same way someone frosts a cupcake. Except "caress" is defined as "light touch," and from the moment I was born I was more of a "wrecking-ball touch" kind of gal. Let's stick to something a little more realistic?
I could be "Mary," but when the going got tough she just threw her hands up and said (quite literally), "What the hell!" I could be "Margaret (Thatcher)," moral and just, but then she was pretty much miserable to live with by the end of it all. I am determined to be less difficult than that! I could be "Ariel" of the "The Little Mermaid" fame, but I want to use my fins for swimming rather than trying to re-constitute my resources into something they are not. Plus, she did it all for some dude. *Boring*
So, after a brief albeit inclusive study, I think Grace is the name I want to live. "Grace" doesn't signify that wild issues won't come my way. "Grace" doesn't mean that uncomfortable situations and tough decisions won't dot the landscape of my being. "Grace" doesn't mean that I have to smile through them, either. To me, "grace" sounds a little like "serenity." The serenity prayer states, "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference." Another "graceful" idiom is, "You are the impression you leave on others." Grace is taking those obstacles with a curios eye. It is observing my reactions to them and giving myself 20 minutes to sit in them. Grace is trying to relax my face as I stomp through my office. Grace is not "crusty," "rash," or "disjointed." Grace isn't a temper-tantrum to my mom on the phone "because she'll love my anyway." Grace is the question, "Okay...I see...what now?" And Grace is the answer, "Let's have a snack and think about it." Tea-time, anyone?
Sincerely, Em[Grace]ily

Denver Do: Better with Age on Broadway

Overview: This edition of the Denver Do is all about the lesser-known sections of Broadway's wacky-and-weird. You can use any means of transportation to get there and can continue to explore the area to your desire and time limitations.
Expected Cost: $10 for food @ the bakery; optional vintage shopping
Solo Savvy?: Absolutely! But, the antique shop begs discussion.
Expected Time: 1.5 hours (unless you try clothes on)
Requirements: Some form of mechanical transportation because this section of Broadway is south past "SoBro." It's actually parallel to the South Pearl District, so it's a bit of a jaunt. I would recommend a bike, car, or "0" bus RTD bus.
The Do: This edition of the Do starts at Packrat Antiques, an antique store located on Broadway and Iowa. If you bike, take Logan Street. A lot of the those quieter neighborhood roads end at i25 (or just get funky) but Logan goes all the way through. Turn right (west) onto Iowa and it's a few more blocks to Broadway.
I have no idea how I first found Packrat Antiques, but I am ever-so-glad that I did! This place is one of the most eccentric antique shops in a section of Broadway full of eccentric antique shops. It's basically a museum of creepy old stuff run by an equally creepy old couple who I don't believe actually sell anything. The gnome/ owner in the back-right corner is well-camouflaged by his paper, beware. I have no idea what kind of antiques he's guarding because I refrain from going near, but you should grow a pair and go back there. It's probably good.
Treat this place like an art collection and be prepared to spend a solid amount of time there. You will encounter antiques from every type of American population including (and not limited to) medical devices, skeletons, weapons, pictures, metal-works, and more. Take your time to examine all sections. But use only your mind to explore; you may have your head chopped by a Civil War-era sword if you do so much as take a out your iPhone. The old couple acts as if you don't exist until you take a picture, at which point you will be summarily removed from the premise.
After you've developed a winter's-worth of goose bumps, use your feet or mechanical transport to travel four blocks further south to Regal Vintage. This is my absolute favorite vintage shop in Denver. While it can be a bit overpriced it's got a fantastic collection. The guys who run it are either lovers or brothers (TaTU, anyone?!). They may seem a bit stand-offish at first but start purring over their hand-chosen collection and they'll be your best friend. Make friends because they are often willing to negotiate on prices, especially if you buy more than one item.
Keep in mind as you explore this store: before it was Regal it was another, much weirder vintage place owned by a man obsessed with aliens. The front was actually "a front" because the back was filled with his wacky alien paraphernalia. If you shopped for longer than 15 minutes he and his homeless friend would tell you conspiracy theories. So, imagine that you have an aluminum hat from the movie Signs and you should be alright.
Feel free to keep exploring this unique area, but the final portion of this Do takes you back north for a stop by the Buffalo Doughboy Bakery. On your way there, take note of the Black Crown Lounge between Arkansas and Florida. I've heard rave reviews of this gay-friendly antique store/ bar/ music venue. Grab a schedule of the live music and invite me to join when you go!
The Buffalo Doughboy Bakery is owned by a very nice couple with a taste for all things pastry. They offer smoothies, paninis, salads and more, but their pastries are the crux of the place. Located on the corner of Louisiana, the building is instantly recognizable with it's yellow-and-purple exterior. Seating is limited but the place isn't usually full. It's a relaxing joint, so bring a book if you're solo. I'd recommend ordering one of the savory pastries (I ordered a divine spinach-something once) and a coffee. Be sure to check the hours, though, because this place is a typical bakery with awkward open/closing times.
Congrats: you've done another Do! Thanks for joining. As always, feel free to provide your feedback and suggestions! Next up: Abusing Your (Core)Power.