One of my favorite spots in Colorado is the Valley View Hot Springs in south central Colorado. I had a chance to spend a night there yesterday and got the camera out when some storms were coming in.
Voy
So I’m going to Spain.
For at least a year. But perhaps longer.
A reasonable amount of stability (as well as legal residency) will come from an English-teaching job lined up for the fall. I’ve had this on my list as a potential go-to job/experience since I was in college but for this or that reason it just hasn’t happened. All things considered, now just seems like the right time.
I’ll be teaching English for a program coordinated by the Spanish government called Auxiliares de Conversación, which translated simply means language assistants. If you’re unfamiliar with it, the program recruits native English speakers (Americans, Canadians, Brits, Australians, etc.) to assist in classrooms across Spain. I suppose the idea is that a native English speaker will be more helpful with the nuances of the language than a Spaniard teaching the same concepts in his or her second tongue. Auxiliares are compensated with a reasonable stipend that covers living expenses. I’ve been rattling through the application process for the past several months and it seems that at the moment everything is squared away. Currently, I’m just waiting for newly-visa’d passport to ship back from the consulate in time for my August 20th flight over to Europe.
My placement is at a high school in southern Madrid where I’ll quickly be refreshing my limited Spanish skills (luckily the bulk of my responsibilities are limited to English). My workweeks will be limited to four days, which should allow time for travel on the weekends within Spain and elsewhere. Although my teaching experience is pretty much limited to summers full of swim lessons during college, I’m excited to try something new.
In some of my free time, I might be teaching private lessons for additional income. But most likely I’ll be toting my camera around Madrid and wherever else I can travel shooting the people and places I find.
But let’s take a step back. Realistically, the true draw is the immersion somewhere very different for a bit working and experiencing the world in a way in which I’m not accustomed. The teaching will be a challenge and the language will certainly be difficult for the first several months, but the rhetorical question of course is this: what better way is there to learn about oneself and the world than to introduce some risk, perhaps some discomfort, and a different perspective?
I hope you follow along with my journey, which I will be documenting and sharing here on my blog in both words and images. As always, if you have any questions, comments, words of advice or encouragement, travel-themed jokes, free-verse poems, or anything else you wish to share with me, I always welcome you to do so: daniel.aa.silverman@gmail.com
Portland, OR
Missoula, MT
When in Dallas...
Sam (Archer). She and fellow musician, Jaron (Tripp) met last September and have been traveling around the world since January with their musical project, Archer & Tripp.
I had the joy of attending a yoga class yesterday at the Boulder Prana with their musical accompaniment, consisting mostly of hang drums (think mellow steel drum sound, hand-played) and occasional vocals and clarinet. Luckily enough I stumbled into them today when I had a camera. If you need some wonderfully chill music in your life or just want to meet some good people (with lovely accents – she’s a Brit, he’s German), go find them in Boulder in the next couple days before they continue eastward. And check them out at archerandtripp.com
Maine
We all have those specific childhood memories; the ones that come pouring back with even the slightest reminder. For me, most of these memories take me to one place: Maine. To condense a deeply important part of my childhood, my grandfather purchased a seaside house on Mount Desert Island in Bernard, Maine before I was born where I spent most of my younger summers, entranced by the incredible Maine nature. My grandfather always loved lighthouses, so in proper form he had one built on the wharf opposite the house. Needless to say the place is unique. After many years away, I had a chance to spend a few days in this familiar territory this past week, confronted with reminders of another time.
Of times as a kid crouching in wonder by tide pools, exploring blue-purple shells, barnacle-covered rocks, the occasional starfish, and pieces of rounded glass (like little gems, smoothed by their journey). The early morning sounds of lobster boats and the local ferry the same as when I was enjoying a summer break between 4th and 5th grade (waking in the attic, where the kids slept). The creak of particular steps on the staircases, the feel of the engraved doorknob in my hand, the woody smell of the inside of the house, the sensation of grasping the ladder that leads from the wharf down to the pebble waterfront, the look of the buoys that line the wall of the shop and lighthouse, the weight of the remaining wood-type pieces from my grandfather's collection (at one time, one of the largest private collections in the world) – all of these things take me back to a time and state of mind that I can’t simply visit by myself. I need the help of these sensations; these unchanged details that help me feel my memories just a little bit deeper. And with that comes gratitude.
All of the images below were shot either at the family house, in the neighborhood, or within a few miles by car.
Buoys of the local lobstermen from the harbor.
Childhood playground.
The family lighthouse and shop.
The family house, across the street from the lighthouse.
Wood-type cabinet in the shop beneath the lighthouse.
Wood-type.
The inside door handle to the front door: a gateway to awaiting adventures.
My mom, exploring the coastline by the house.
Low tide.
The man behind the home, lighthouse, and bringing me to Maine: my almost-95-years-young grandfather.
Boston
Any excuse to get to the northeast is a good one, but it's particularly special when the journey is made for my cousin's wedding. The couple, Deb and Doug, held their rehearsal dinner at their favorite neighborhood bar in Boston (which would probably also be my favorite bar if I found myself living there). The ceremony took place at The Fairmont Copley Plaza, a ridiculously luxurious venue decorated densely with artwork by people with names like Pablo and Henri. I was more focused on enjoying the time with family than shooting, but here are a few snapshots from the family gathering and just walking around in Boston.
Great Sand Dunes National Park
I went on the road for a couple days this week. Mostly to clear my mind and not really to make photos, though inevitably a few were shot. I wasn't really sure where I was going to end up, but I found myself at the Great Sand Dunes National Park in the southern part of Colorado. It's about five hours away from Boulder and it sits on the edge of the snow-topped mountains like it fell off a map of the Sahara by mistake. The dunes are staggeringly and deceptively tall, the even tones and gradients of the mounds making them seem much smaller than they actually are. If you haven't been, I highly recommend it. There's certainly no shortage of mountains here in Colorado, but none of them have made me feel quite as small – and refreshed – as these dunes. I mean, it's essentially a massive sandbox (a thought which led to a massive kid smile on my face as I walked up to them), and who couldn't love that?
If you do make the trip, I suggest staying at Valley View Hot Springs about an hour north of the national park. It's a treasure of preserved land with wonderful hot springs (clothing-optional), a friendly staff, and plenty of quiet space.
Four Twenty
Many things make Boulder, Colorado a unique place to call home. Incredible mountains, ridiculously fit people, proximity to some of the best hiking and skiing in the country, an extremely educated population, and a truly dedicated focus on quality of life.
And weed, of course. Despite my somewhat traditional Texan upbringing, I long ago washed away my former conditioning of seeing marijuana as something negative. As I've found to generally be true, most things in the world are just fine in moderation. It was fun to experience my first 4/20 in Colorado yesterday with an impromptu gathering and concert by a Boulder favorite, The Infamous Stringdusters. A bit of a party broke out a little after 4:20 downtown, and the absolute biggest joint I've ever seen made it's way around the crowd. Despite this technically being very illegal (Colorado law states you can only consume marijuana on private property), the police didn't make an appearance at the event.
We may do things a little differently in Boulder and Colorado in general, but I think that's what makes it special to live here.
Solo Isn't Solo
It takes a specific type of person to travel alone, I think. I don't say this to argue that this method of travel is better than traveling with others; it's just different. Like any traveling, it can be trying at times, but it allows a freedom and openness to learn and engage that I've never been able to recreate when traveling in groups. In my experience, it's rare to find these types while not on the move, so it was a treat to run into Bruna while walking around downtown Boulder last week. Bruna is an energetic, confident, radiant Brazilian on a journey around the world (You can follow her travels here). She's covered the western United States and is currently traveling through Texas and New Orleans before making her way to New York. After that, she heads over to Europe for a few months and then wherever else the wind takes her. Africa, perhaps?
She wanted to go on a hike before she left for her next destination (Dallas, ironically, my hometown) so we settled on tackling Bear Peak, overlooking Boulder. I always forget just how difficult a hike this peak is, but we made it to the top in one piece and were able to celebrate with a relevant beverage (we could actually see Golden, the only place Coors Banquet is brewed, from the peak) and spend some time up top admiring the silence and grandness of this place.
It always stirs emotions to connect with fellow solo travelers. The process of entering a new city with fresh eyes, forging connections with people, sharing experiences, then picking up and moving on is one that is challenging but always meaningful. If you're reading this, perhaps you know the feeling I'm talking about. Some of my fondest memories follow this pattern. Safe travels, Bruna – See you on the road sometime.
Seth Avett and Jessica Lea Mayfield
Like laughing with a friend in a moment of joy or finding tears with them in a moment of pure desperation, some music originates from a place so honest and brave and vulnerable that you can’t help but be tugged in by the innate humanness.
Such a thoughtful, intimate, beautiful performance from Seth Avett and Jessica Lea Mayfield last night. From the set list (mostly Elliott Smith songs, but also inspirations for him, Avett and Mayfield as well as some of their own writings) to the set itself (the symbolic kitchen) and the simplicity of a three-piece setup, it was a wonderful performance to watch. The tour is meant to pay tribute to the work of Elliott Smith, who wrote some of the most powerfully emotional songs I've ever heard. You may know Smith died in 2003 of a stab wound to the chest with a kitchen knife (most believe suicide, though the autopsy was inconclusive) and in life was known to have struggles with substance abuse and depression. Avett and Mayfield respectfully played Smith's songs, not necessary changing them but certainly adding their personalities to the execution. For so many reasons, and on so many levels, it was very, very good. If these guys pass through where you are, I highly recommend going for a watch and listen.
George
George is a cannabis grower who made his way to Boulder, like many here, via the long road (much of which seems to have been outside the bounds of the legal system). He volunteers for a local church here in Boulder and to make money he purchases cheap candy with food stamps at the beginning of each month and sells them for a small profit until he runs out of supply. His goal is to make enough money to get away from city life, back to nature.
