After another 22-hour ocean-and-continent-traverse, I am back in Paris from Colorado. I'm a little jet-lagged, but my office assistant (aka Colin) and this stout mug of coffee are helping greatly.
This trip was another "git-er-done" necessity, as there were taxes to sort, bank accounts to set up, and all the other bits and pieces that come from life as a perpetual immigrant. Without going into exhaustive detail (believe me, I could), it was a maelstrom of paperwork, legal stuff, tax terminology (snore) and basic bureaucracy stuff. I'm glad it's over. I'm happy to be home. Now comes the hard part- figuring out how to balance life as a legal resident of the United States, and maintain a life in Europe at the same time.
Colorado as usual was very welcoming and friendly. I need to have calling cards printed out that list the name of the scent I use, since everywhere I went I was stopped and asked why I smelled so nice. Which is good because I always suspect that I am a bit armpit whiffy since I seem to always be a sweaty mess in Colorado because AS USUAL the weather turned from cold to boiling hot as soon as I stepped off the plane in many, many woolen layers. I spent a little time with my parents, they came up to Denver and we ate our way through the Denver Biscuit Company menu and drank Pablo's Coffee nearly dry. They were infinitely helpful with shuttling me around and helping sort out some details, and I'm so lucky they're so great. I even got to drive Dad's car through Denver and park it at one point! (Shut up, after 10 years with no car these things are beyond thrilling! If you are a sad and pathetic human such as myself. )
I met up with one of my oldest friends there, and we hit the Mile High Soul Club for a night of dancey fun. I had to investigate how they do it on the other side of the pond, since I still occasionally make it to London for Great Big Kiss, this fabulous night of girl bands and Motown. Though I found the music in London a bit better (they played R-e-s-p-e-c-t! twice in Denver-by two artists, but still), the people in America were certainly...more open. I paid some American girl 4 dollars to kiss my friend, which was worth every penny to see his discomfort. Of course then I had to suffer through a twenty-minute soliloquy on how he thought she really fancied him...really. Worth it. I was hit on by a small man named Curtis/JayJay/Not Sure Because I Was Ginned Up. I found a free CD of Motown music on the floor at my feet towards the end, as the DJ threw them out into the crowd. I met a makeup artist who gave me her card (she had flawless skin upon which I complimented her). But mainly, some stranger possibly gave my friend hepatitis for four dollars. SNORT. God bless America.
Though I have to go back again soon, I'm getting to grips with Denver and feeling more comfortable. One of the things I find so pleasant about American cities is how squarey they are! If you get lost, just take four rights and you're right back where you began thanks to the grid system layout of their streets in most places. It's also super easy to count your way up 1st, 2nd, 3rd Street (and so on) to find your way. I'm even making friends with the locals- a few places remembered me when I went in (possibly by smell?) and I even learned the names of a few of the coffee slingers at the café I went to most often. And then thoroughly awkward-silenced them when I said jicama looked like a diseased willy. Hrrrng, oh well. Can't win 'em all.