Bowled Over by Boulder
Saturday, 6 March 2004
The wind was howling outside, like a wolf in heat, and it was very cold. We set-off to Boulder.
We reached Boulder in about 15 minutes. This cozy college town is a poet's dream come true. Surrounded by farms and idyllic pastures, this small town is a romantic's El Dorado.
We parked and walked into Pearl Street. To our right the mountain towered over, as if protecting the town from some invisible conquistador. The cobblestone pedestrian walks lend the place a medieval flavor. It was like being in Europe, but amid nice people. We walked through the street watching the young and young-at-heart bicycling or chilling in the lawns. A group of young girls -probably stoned- were jumping all over one of their friends; a middle-aged man was playing some country number on his guitar; a mexican kid was playing the fiddle under the watchful eyes of his dad - a veteran street performer.
We lost ourselves. It was like walking in a dream, only, you felt the wind in your bones. You know, walking through Pearl street is like first love: the whole world around you comes alive, all the people suddenly seem nice, you want to smile always, you are alone in the crowd, and you are spellbound.
We did take a lot of pictures and I hope they reflect a fraction of what we experienced.
So long my friends. It is not often that your soul is stirred; your intelect awakened; your life is refreshed. No, not often. It is weird though that a small act of kindness, or a gesture of warmth, or a token of acceptance or... a far-away place like Boulder could achieve that... and break the monotony that had eaten away your jest for life. And give you the magical four letter word (not what you're thinking you pervert)... 'hope'.
Write to me: suman 'at' sumankumar 'dot' com Add to:del.icio.us| Digg| Reddit| StumbleUpon| Technorati
The wind was howling outside, like a wolf in heat, and it was very cold. We set-off to Boulder.
We reached Boulder in about 15 minutes. This cozy college town is a poet's dream come true. Surrounded by farms and idyllic pastures, this small town is a romantic's El Dorado.
We parked and walked into Pearl Street. To our right the mountain towered over, as if protecting the town from some invisible conquistador. The cobblestone pedestrian walks lend the place a medieval flavor. It was like being in Europe, but amid nice people. We walked through the street watching the young and young-at-heart bicycling or chilling in the lawns. A group of young girls -probably stoned- were jumping all over one of their friends; a middle-aged man was playing some country number on his guitar; a mexican kid was playing the fiddle under the watchful eyes of his dad - a veteran street performer.
We lost ourselves. It was like walking in a dream, only, you felt the wind in your bones. You know, walking through Pearl street is like first love: the whole world around you comes alive, all the people suddenly seem nice, you want to smile always, you are alone in the crowd, and you are spellbound.
We did take a lot of pictures and I hope they reflect a fraction of what we experienced.
So long my friends. It is not often that your soul is stirred; your intelect awakened; your life is refreshed. No, not often. It is weird though that a small act of kindness, or a gesture of warmth, or a token of acceptance or... a far-away place like Boulder could achieve that... and break the monotony that had eaten away your jest for life. And give you the magical four letter word (not what you're thinking you pervert)... 'hope'.
Write to me: suman 'at' sumankumar 'dot' com Add to:del.icio.us| Digg| Reddit| StumbleUpon| Technorati
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