COLORADO SUNSETS

Colorado snow and sunset on a hill with a wooden house and pine tree

 

The sunsets in Colorado are so much more colourful, so much more intense than the ones I am used to. Perhaps it is due to differences in climate, or perhaps it is due to the elevation of the place; Colorado being on average 6800 feet above sea level. Maybe that little extra proximity to the sun makes all the sky light up in pink and blue.

SCIENCE FACT

Well, for those science-y ones out there, you might already know that sunsets are caused by the filtering of light through atmospheric particles, and that the sun's proximity to the horizon means that only longer waves of light, such as red waves, will filter through all those layers of particles. Or some such jazz. But I think it sounds more poetic to say that Colorado is a little closer to the sun. 

Sometimes I wish I was like the Little Prince on his small planet, and could sit and view the sunset, before moving a few steps and then watching it over again. 

However, I have this sneaking suspicion that the beauty of the sunset lies in its ephemerality. Like a rainbow, we only see it every so often. And when we do, we stop in our tracks, on the way back to the car with our shopping or as we are making dinner and staring idly out the window. It is something we appreciate, because it is so fleeting. 

“Never waste any amount of time doing anything important when there is a sunset outside that you should be sitting under!”
— C. Joybell C.
Colorado sunset in red and orange and pink, in a snowy winter village

FIRST GLIMPSE OF COLORADO

Cabins in the rocky mountains during winter in Colorado - snowcapped pines

SNOW

That is all I could see, bleary-eyed, gazing out from the car window. Snow and more snow. Then again, it was December. A vision swept by: a patriotic flag hung from a building site, whipped and pulled by the blizzard. Oliver and my brother are still talking from the front seat: "These are some of the worst road conditions we have had in ages!". I zone out again, the sinus infection stopping me from contributing any more than a few gurgling yes and nos.

Arriving in the picture perfect Vail Valley, things started to clear up - both the weather and my vision. I guess I was in awe. That landscape, the trees, all blanketed in snow and glistening ice particles glinting in the noon day sun. The gingerbread cookie cutter houses, strung up with Christmas lights. It was all so beautiful. 

That first week in Colorado was like a time lapse of snapshots in feeling:

A constant babble of Spanish, and a stream of visitors.
The smells of carne asada and chilli rellenos, and that itchy feeling in the back of my throat from the cooking peppers. 
Time spent playing pool on a table covered in red felt.
A pack of dogs roaming the house, each one with a wooly coat. 
Meeting new people.
The smell of Oliver's house, now comforting. Like candles, spices, must and cut-logs. 
The constant feeling of difference: different accents, different food, different landscape, different supermarkets, different slang words. 
A confusion about directions. I had absolutely no idea about the location of anything, including myself.
Snow and hoarfrost in the trees -  perpetual winter in Colorado
Colorado snow in a pine tree
Colorado gingerbread houses through the snow and pine trees
American flag in a whiteout of snow in Colorado
Moe's restaurant in the snow in Colorado winter
Sparkles and snow on a Colorado small town landscape
Sunset on a snowy village in Colorado

LEAVING TO STUDY

New Zealand fields and green hills from above

On December 3rd, 2013, I stepped onto a plane, sat down with a sigh, and took one last good look at my hometown in New Zealand. I was not going to be back for a very long time, even longer than I was anticipating. But in that moment, the full realisation of a life overseas had not hit me. I had no bloody idea what that next year and a half would hold, nor how much I would change.

I was headed for France, via Colorado and the house of my brother's best friend. The next year would be spent studying in both France and Scotland, and if I had anything to do with it, I was damn-well going to make sure I spent all of my spare time in galleries and cathedrals. No new friends for me, thank you. 

Well, that plan did not turn out quite the way I was hoping...

Instead, things turned out to be a whole lot better!

Here is a small extract of my thoughts after leaving New Zealand:

“I feel kind of like I am stepping out into a great unknown, pushed by some force that has gotten a lot stronger as the time to leave came closer. That feeling of impatience and excitement about travelling is also confused by another feeling, which goes a bit like this...

”what the bloody heck am I doing??!”

But I think that some of the biggest adventures require a person to leave their comfort zone and place their trust into the hands of the fates. So when I rushed out of the front door, having just finished packing a year’s worth of stuff, my feelings were what you might describe as “panicky-enthusiastic.”

A person displaying such a condition can be identified by their symptoms of sudden-onset rapid breathing requiring a paper bag, lulls of silent contemplation, and outbursts of excited babble. If you think you have this condition, do not fear, it eases over time.

No truly, it does. I can say that although I might have had a severe case of “panicky-enthusiastic,” which definitely worsened on the first few nights of being away from home, my symptoms have pretty much subsided now that I am feeling more grounded in my new surroundings. ”
— little 21 year old Zoe