DENVER, COLORADO, USA

2016-09-20, 11:27, JASON

BUDGET, STAY: STEPH'S HOUSE

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This is leg three of our long trip, having come from Beijing, then SFO, then now to Denver. It'd been a while since we've done sightseeing in domestic US, so it was nice to be able to see a little bit of what the U.S. had to offer relative to the rest of the world. The primary reason we were in Denver was to attend our friend Stephanie's wedding. She was scheduled to get married in the Denver clock tower, and was kind enough to ask us to go a day before and spend some time with her before the big day.

The following entry is shorter in nature and doesn't detail the specifics of the wedding, out of privacy. I'll account for some of the things that we did before the wedding, and some thoughts generally about being back in the U.S. after having not been back for over a year and a half.

Growing up in the U.S. and being familiar with U.S. culture, Thorin and I have spent the past year trying to avoid it. Initially this stemmed from some internalized departure from the place, but I think it became an issue of American culture have such a high penetration in other parts of the world that the banality of Americanisms got to us. Well, to me at least. When we'd first left, we discovered there was so much more out there, and that's why we decided to move abroad. Our current standing is that we want to stay abroad, but in a deeper sense, the U.S. will always be some part of me, a kind of nostalgic home that isn't attached to the physical space but the mental one. It's shaped who I've become, and for that I am indebted and grateful, to actually have that opportunity. But, in the past year, how it's manifested was a disaffection for the U.S. cities, even though we haven't been to many at all. Since we were going back, this time we wanted to give it a chance. An honest chance, as I call it.

Somewhere in our consciousness Denver was a place we always wanted to visit, because Stephanie went to school there, made a wonderful life there for herself, and was going to get married there. It has a reputation of being a liberal lesbianish place and if we were to go back to the U.S., better it be a bigger city for us to reacclimatize. We touched down after a few delays and struggle with United Airlines, and Stephanie rolled up in her car to pick us up alongside her brother. We hadn't seen her physically for just over a year and a half, with only few Skype sessions in between to touch base. We used to visit often back in undergraduate but have since gone our own ways. An embrace of friendship before any words, between boon companions. The kind that distorts 1.5 years of unfamiliarity to 1.5 seconds of connection, and belonging. A reunion of old friends..

We'd forgotten how suburban the U.S. was. Coming from a big city it's easy to get used to the highrises and immediate bustle of the city. We pulled up into their home which was a beautifully planned, only describable as Stepford neighborhood. Nice houses, built in what seemed like a suburban desert, with a distinct architectural style you would see in any area that receives a lot of snow. Bright, red and blue houses with sloping rooves. And, a small parking lot for the family car. The interior was highly vaulted, and incredibly urban, fit for a newlywed couple. We ran through the itinerary. The next day would be the wedding, and we had today to do some sightseeing. Stephanie agreed to shuttle us around, insisting that most of the wedding details had already been done. There was a forecast of inclement weather, but seeing as it was still sunny, she wanted to take us to our first Fourteener. Ah, a Fourteener. I guess the idea is that it's maybe 14k above sea level measured by some (probably) Imperial measurement as the U.S. does, I think it's feet. But, seeing as we had limited time and were ill prepared for a full on hike, we would drive to the top of one and then do a mini hike to the very peak.

If there's anything that Denver has to offer to the world, it's its pristine natural landscape, unparalleled in grandiosity. It's expansive and vast, and seems to go on for miles in either direction. The weather patterns weed out any noncompetitive plants and trees, making the drive up full of evergreens and the occasional deciduous variety. Small houses are tucked away in the middle of nowhere along the highway, hidden from the world, with only passerbys peering in. As we drive to the top, things get a little less dense. The trees start becoming more sparse, the weather a bit cooler, that air just so much fresher, fresher than any air I've ever remember breathing. Pretty soon, we are above the tree line, and you can see it. It's a figurative word measured at some X feet above sea level in whch trees stop growing, but it's completely visible. Only a few trees surpass it, but almost instantaneously these stalky wooden creatures cease to grow and the forest goes from waxing to shrinking. It's as if nature drew an admonishing line and the trees, in all their evolutionary wisdom of having survived thus far and thus high, heeded, and it was evidented by a line -- the tree line. It was the weirdest thing to see, in the sense that nature had produced such a distinct separation between the bush and barren rock.

We pause to take some pictures. I am in awe of my existence. 

When we get to the top after an hour or so of driving, we finally reach the peak. The climb to the very top takes another 10 minutes at some inhumane altitude. It's all rock up here. The climb is strenuous, we're out of breath, but no one faints. To celebrate, we take some pictures at the top and, of course, partake each in shots of whisky. The sun is shining very brightly and we were lucky to have caught the good weather. 

But, as we finish doing our sightseeing, the weather system begins to move in. It starts snowing while a few clouds are overhead and the sun begins to tuck away behind the clouds. This is the second time I've seen it snowing, and I'm elated. Again, my roots of growing up in suburban America -- California in particular -- showing. On the way down, we encounter hail and then, soon enough, a lightning storm. In the span of an hour we witness three different types of weather - a sign that we should probably head down the mountain a little bit quicker.

The rest of the day is covered in drizzle, but we were able to make it out to the Red Rocks amphitheater to see some of the stone formations that have naturally arisen to serve as the perfect concert venue. I think some artist was planning on performing that night so we couldn't go in to see the actual amphitheater, but some rocks jutted out from the outside and were visible. Again, we were impresed just by how wonderful this rock structure was. How big it was. And how ingenious it was to turn it into a concert hall -- that was American innovation at its best. 

The night concluded with us going back to the hotel and then to the bar for happy hour as Stephanie greeted her family. She had spent the entire day driving and showing us around, and now had to deal with the meet and greet with family members. Dinner was at the Cheesecake Factory, a prime institution of the American Food culture. As it was with the Fourteener, and Red Rocks, we were amazed at the grandiosity. Not of the service, or the quality of the food, but the portion. I even ordered from the Skinnylicious menu. All I remember is how big the portion was, and how sweet the cocktails were. A completely different palate here.

The next day was the wedding. Saturday. Stephanie took us with her to get her hair done as Thorin and I were a few sassy bitches drinking mimosas in the corner and chatting to the gay barbers working there. The drive up was like going through New England, passing by brick houses and estates strung along one road, whose two directions were separated by some green space stretching the length of the road. Suburbia. We eventually found some parking and, while walking in, passed by low rise, one-story buildings that were a little bit torn down and shoddy, but was the home of some dive bar with some bros hanging outside of it with plastic beer cups and some women dressed in very 'cooling' attire. On the corner of this suite of businesses along the one story building was the hairdressers. 

While inside, Thorin and I had a discussion about our trip thus far. After having been to Cupertino, then now Denver, we just talked about American living. That sounds like a magazine, but we had a conversation about the ins and outs of our time in Asia, compared to that of being back on home soil. That distance, that move away from the U.S., it was good for us. We didn't really want to come back. The expansive roads, the incessant driving from place to place, it now became exhausting for us to do those things. We liked the convenience of public transportation at an affordable cost, and these things had subtly become comforts to us. We weren't cognizant of this fact until we were faced with it here in the U.S. The food was different to us, the flavor was lacking to us, but we held our tongues as to not be ungrateful or bitter. "Why is everything so flat and expansive here?" Suburbia. Everywhere we looked, we just saw traces of a suburban lifestyle, from the ambitions and dreams of individuals to the plodding from chain store to chain store. From the ma and pa shops in town to the perfect little houses developed as a unit.

But, to some degree, that has been what has defined many American cities in the center and the West. They are expansive, and they do stretch out far away since there is enough land to do so. It is characterized by driving around to places, and the culture surrounds itself, in most places, with having cars and going to places with a car. It's almost the heartland of the car, the cultural birthplace; a flashback to Ford's developments; a testament to American auto industry. The food and cuisine is catered to American taste buds, who may prefer things to be a little heavier and sweet. These are the things that make American cities special, in the same way culture, food, people, and language define and shape a society. It was a very cathartic thing for us, for us to have spent only a little time out of the country then to be back in the country where we've grown up and spent a lot of time (whether we considered it home or not). Our minds and tastes had changed, and there was no going back, at least not in the foreseeable future. Asia was home. Now, it was just moving away from a rhetoric of having disdain for American culture to just feeling that it didn't really fit us anymore; didn't fit our lifstyle. The latter feeling is a feeling of experience and the former a knee-jerk reaction. I think in that salon I said to myself that this place wasn't really for me anymore. But, this time it wasn't associated with a rejection of American culture, rather, an appreciation for what it is, how it's made me into who I am, and how I'm moving on from here. A most prodigious experience, and all while in a salon watching the last curl of Stephanie's hair be put into place, mimosa also in her hand.

In the leadup to the wedding, we just stuck around the hotel waiting for Stephanie to get ready for her day. The girlfriends from high school all crowded around and were doting on her. We chatted too -- it really was a mini high school reunion. We'd spent the last 15 years knowing these people, watching them grow as we ourselves changed, drifted apart, and reunited for this day. All throughout, I think we were freaking out more than the bride. The ceremony went on as proposed. Everything went well. They were married in the clock tower, with the face of the clock in the background. And for somewhere that would be so iconic and incessant of keeping time, it seemed to stop for a second as the vows, the rings, the beatific ceremony proceeded. We met some people, including our formal middle school P.E. teachers, and had a Junior High reunion (how's that for a throwback?). After the venue shut, the young folks went out for food at the end, ended up drinking and chatting until god knows what hour, and then went back to the hotel. I think there was a Mexican bar involved, and some pitchers of beer, but I can't remember a thing from that night. Just that everyone was happy. The next morning was brunch, via a party bus, although I think we had been all partied out, and this time at an Italian buffet. A great way to top off that fresh hangover feeling.

All throughout the trip Stephanie and Toby - her official other half - had been more than accommodating to us, allowing us to stay at their house, driving us around the place, making us not feel like total strangers at a wedding where we knew only a handful of people, and checking in with us throughout the wedding night. A shoutout as well to her brother, Kevin, for being just as accommodating and letting us crash in his hotel room on the wedding night. The three of them had been exceptionally inviting and did not make us feel like a burden. Actually, a shoutout too to just the entire family, their parents, from their generosity to treating us to dinners, having us in their presence, making us not feel just like guests but old friends of the family. I will say it, one redeeming quality about Americans is that - whether you believe this to be on a surface level or 'fake' - they are generally very nice people. They will make casual conversation with you without pretense, and they will smile, and they will dote on you with a lot of customer service. They will take time out of their day to make a conversation with you because they're not in a rush to go do something else, and in this day time is a precious commodity; I always appreciate when people are willing to spend it on you. This is not an attitude you find everywhere you go, and in my muddled disinterest in American life I seem to have lost a grasp of this concept.

From the hotel, it is a ten minute walk down the main downstreet to the light rail. From the light rail, you ride for forty minutes to the airport. The most confusing airport with security at the bottom floor and checkin at the top. On that Sunday after the wedding, we finally had a moment to ourselves, Stephanie, Thorin and me. It was like college again, seeing each other, and just chatting about the night before and the wedding. It happened so naturally, and echoed convos we've had dishing about 'what happened at Winter Formal' about eight years ago, Thorin coming out to Stephanie all those years ago, and also, the local who's-doing-what gossips back in the Long Beach / Irvine days, back when we were just starting off our lives in small town. Suburbia . We took the ten minute walk down from the main street to the light rail station and purchased our tickets. I remember the Grand Central Station being absolutely beautiful, a newly revamped structure with a bunch of hipsters sitting inside at one of its very cafes. The waiting platforms were designed with a futuristic overarch that was pretty much a bunch of pipes painted white interlaced among each other, domed over the platforms. The details were so vivid in my mind; I made a note because I wanted to remember every part of that day: the day after the wedding, just looking at a dear friend who was now married (still a weird thing to say). Looking forward to the times we would spend together as couples now, not just three friends who got up to random shit. Looking at our future interactions together, which inevitably meant communicating being continents apart. But come on, if I was being honest, nothing had really changed internally. We were still who we were. The days still went on, although in that instance we wished the moment would linger a little longer. We all knew we had to say goodbye but didn't want to. The weekend had to come to an end eventually. But, the familiarity and friendship was comforting and tangible on that platform.

The announcement came up for the airport, on platform 2. And, in one last goodbye embrace that would take no more than two minutes, we would carry it with us for the rest of our lives back to Singapore -- back home, as we would have it -- and to any other place we would be so inclined to live. And, she would take it with her back to her new life, merged now with another. Some light tears, stirred up by nostalgia as she walked out of the Station without looking back. The parting of old friends. The forty minute ride to the airport.