One of my favorite places in Denver, the Tattered Cover Bookstore, has recently completed it’s move to the remodeled Lowenstein Theatre on East Colfax. 

Unfortunately the move tips the diversity balance of Cherry Creek to the side of mostly jewelry retailers and absurdly high priced cutlery stores.  However the move does help East Colfax’s Greektown district renovation and landscape of the area, as well as lure more shoppers and business too.

The new store seems a bit smaller than the four levels (including basement) than the former Cherry Creek location.  But the concept of a bookstore in an old theatre is a great idea.  From the lobby housing the newsstand to the sunken orchestra pit there are plenty of nooks and crannies for reading and browsing.  Even better, the kids area is located in a separate and quiet location in the basement. 

Having had a long history in Denver, owner Joyce Meskis is also known for standing up for First Amendment rights by refusing to comply with a search warrant requesting a customer’s purchase records.  The case was taken to the Colorado Supreme Court and they found in the retailers favor.

If visiting Denver it’s worth braving the characters on the #15 bus to check out the new digs.  Adjacent to Tattered Cover is a Chipotle Burrito store and a Twist and Shout records.  A perfect mecca of independent retailers!

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Cindy Rodriguez Column, Denver Post 10.18.06

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There’s a reason followers of the reactionary James Dobson are called “sheeple.”

As chairman of the $145 million-a-year propaganda organization Focus on the Family, Dobson is the ultimate puppet master, giving conservative members of Congress marching orders in exchange for votes from his flock.

In Denver alone, Focus on the Family radio broadcasts can be heard 10 times a day on three stations. It’s heard by 1.5 million Americans each day. Millions more are influenced by the rest of FOTF’s media conglomerate: TV shows, a syndicated column, magazines, books, even films.

By manipulating religious teachings, Dobson represses his followers with a reactionary societal code: Get married, stay married, procreate and - most important - donate your money to Focus on the Family.

The more his listeners believe, the more easily they can be exploited. That explains why many of those listeners - hardworking middle-class people who are struggling with bills or caring for elderly loved ones - vote against their own interests. (more…)

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But first: A long winded spiel on Texas.

After leaving New Orleans we had a late dinner in Lafayette, Louisiana, heart of Cajun country. We drove into the night through Shreveport, and overnighted at a cheap motel about 125 miles outside Dallas. I always make an effort to dine at local places, but one chain I like, (perhaps because there are few where I live), is Waffle House. The restaurants are small and cramped, and the counter and booths wrap around the open kitchen allowing you to see all the action as it happens. Good prices, greasy food, and endless coffee. Perfect for a week on the road away from the gym.

The ranches and open lands of east Texas funnel into the metropolis of Dallas. I had been to Dallas briefly before for work and had checked out downtown at night. I thought it would be interesting to see Daely Plaza and Elm Street again, where President John F. Kennedy was shot. Having had our fill on museums the past week, we passed on the 6th Floor Museum, and just walked around downtown in the perfect sunny weather.

We wandered over to Reunion Tower which is attached to the Hyatt Regency. The observatory atop Reunion Tower is in dire need of an extreme makeover. Peeling conference tables and filthy carpet greet you after a muffled futuristic female voice in the elevators meekly announces you’ve arrive. We peeked in the restaurant one level above, which was in nicer shape. For two bucks it’s a deal and a good look at the skyline, but only if you have nothing better to do.

I had heard the Mockingbird Station area of Dallas was a nice walkable area and had some local restaurants, so we drove up there from downtown, and had a lunch of crab cakes at the Hurricane Grill on Greenville Avenue. During lunch I reviewed the Dallas Observer, the weekly alternative newspaper, but the only interesting thing we could find on a Friday night was Dustin Diamond, (Screech from Saved by the Bell), doing standup somewhere in Fort Worth. We considered this a sign, and headed north to Oklahoma City.

Only 200 miles from Dallas, Oklahoma City was larger that I expected. We passed through the suburb of Norman, home to the University of Oklahoma. We visited some bars near Bricktown, an area on the east side of downtown featuring bars, clubs, and nice restaurants.

The Oklahoma City Memorial is a few blocks north of downtown on a small hill, and is home to the site of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building, which was destroyed by domestic terrorism on April 19, 1995. This event in history is far overshadowed by September 11, but for this medium size city on the plains, far from New York, it’s still a vivid memory more than a decade later. The memorial features a large rectangular reflecting pool, and 168 bronze and stone chairs representing an empty chair for each of the 168 people who were killed by the blast.

(more…)

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We drove back through downtown, past the infamous Superdome, and continued on Saint Claude Avenue over the Industrial Canal Bridge. This neighborhood is only about two miles from the French Quarter, but suffered some of the worst flooding when a nearby levee breached and filled their neighborhood. This area painted a completely different picture of the city. Unlike the mansions of the Garden District or tightly packed homes in Faubourg Marigny no one was busy with ladders or paint. This place was almost completely abandoned. These are the places where 80% of the population simply relocated to other cities. I thought of Chernobyl as I drove around and saw absolutely nobody.

The biggest question of “Why aren’t these neighborhoods cleaned up”? was quickly answered by the fact the city is only one third the population of what is was. The areas hit most hard by Hurricane Katrina were lower income, where many people didn’t have flood insurance or jobs to return to. These people had no other choice but to simply abandon their homes, shift gears and start up in a new city due to lack of work in New Orleans.

Even with workers moving here for the opportunity, it leaves far too few people to do all the work. The ones who are here are proudly working in their own homes. However it baffles me that on a level of devastation such as this that NO ONE is cleaning up these communities. The homes are sitting there empty, only occupied by rats and cockroaches. The areas look 10 times worse than Michael Moore’s portraits of southeast Michigan in wake of the auto plant closings. Sketchy New Orleans politics aside, I feel something should be done other than leaving these neighborhoods to wither away until developers raze them.

(more…)

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Driving down interstate 59 from Mississippi into Louisiana was uneventful. The scenery slowly changes from thick woods to rivers and swamps, and after joining interstate 10 east of New Orleans, you’re greeted with many bridges and the long span crossing Lake Pontchartrain. When interstate 10 reached land again it was a complete shock to us: our view was mile after mile of devastation. Large commercial parcels and shopping centers sat vacant, the tall signs still fallen at angles into the buildings. Beyond the empty big box stores we saw street after street of middle income residential homes. The streets and houses were void of any activity.

We exited the freeway near downtown and made our way back through the French Quarter and around Esplanade and Elysian Fields Avenue, honing in on The Burgundy Bed and Breakfast. About 10 blocks east of the French Quarter the streets angle southeast to maintain their alignment with the Mississippi River. This area east of the French Quarter is the Faubourg Marigny neighborhood, one of the oldest settlements in New Orleans. The Faubourg Marigny neighborhood was in far better shape the other parts of town. Hurricane Katrina and the resulting flood had not flooded the more historic neighborhoods of the Garden District and French Quarter, and their adjoining neighborhoods.

(more…)

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Between Memphis and New Orleans we took a long dog-leg route and drove through rural Alabama in order to visit Tuscaloosa.

The rain was heavy with a low ceiling of clouds. We left highway 78 after crossing into Alabama from Mississippi, then followed the county road signs to Tuscaloosa. Unfortunately the heavy rains contributed to a severe accident at the crest of a hill a few miles ahead. We turned around and waited it out near the small town of Winfield.

Searching for a detour around the closed road, I remembered the often quoted line about directions in the south: They rarely include street names, and this proved to be true as we were instructed to drive past the church, cross over the railroad tracks, and turn left at the dead end. Most directions also include the phrase, “No wait, now that’s not right”, and if more than a few people are milling about, a friendly consultation ensues on which route is most efficient. Asking directions anywhere usually becomes a five to 10 minute meeting with the locals, who won’t let you leave until they insist you know what roads are best. Unfortunately by the time they agreed on my route remembering it was futile even with the map scrawled on a napkin. As proven successful so far in life I smiled, nodded, and conveyed my appreciation.

A local overheard us, and told us to just follow him down some county roads the long way to highway 43. Such road names as “Looney’s Tavern Highway”, and “Lake Lurleen Road” were only in my imagination before seeing them on actual road signs. Arriving in Tuscaloosa the roads were a bit confusing, especially at dusk in the rain, but we found a motel on McFarland Boulevard. For dinner we attempted to locate the Dreamland BBQ, but not finding it we ended up at Mug Shots Sports Bar downtown.

Our main reason for visiting Tuscaloosa was to see where Caleb spent a year growing up. And sometime during that year the family promptly made a decision to move back to California. The next morning we tracked down the house and school, and checked out the nearby woods and river. Part of it was developed for houses, but the thick woods still gave a somewhat rural feel in the middle of the city.

College football is big business in Tuscaloosa. Around town we saw the “Roll Tide” banners, a cheer towards the “Crimson Tide” sports teams of the University of Alabama. The campus is in a quiet area of town just east of downtown.

We made our way to the University of Alabama neighborhood. In any city or town with a large university, no matter how much sprawl, you can usually find unique restaurants, stores, and walkable areas around a college or university. And of course with any town I visit, I enjoy finding a good coffee shop in town, and taking in the atmosphere via lattes, people watching, and the local newspapers.

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We arrived in Memphis Saturday evening after spending the day in Little Rock. It’s an easy drive of about 170 miles, and the rolling hills and lakes of northwest Arkansas ease into flat cotton fields and farms. En route I made a reservation at the Best Western downtown. Although the hallways smelled like an ashtray and the hot water was ill-tempered the first night, the room was comfortable, and the location was perfect being across from the Peabody Hotel and two blocks from Beale Street. Thanks to our location we didn’t need to drive at all during our stay, and I’d highly advise anyone to stay downtown which is central to most sights, (except Graceland).

Before leaving I received recommendations to visit Rendezvous Barbeque. Turns out the entrance was located in the alley next to our hotel. “Follow the Smell” is what the front desk told us, and she was correct. I found out that few restaurants serve hard alcohol, only beer. However I found out by watching some locals (carrying in Jack Daniels and other spirits), that you are allowed to bring in your OWN booze. This is typical in the state of Wyoming as well, but I still find it odd seeing people entering a restaurant carrying their own minibar.

Our next day in Memphis we walked to Mud Island, a park just off the banks of the Mississippi River which houses a museum featuring a wide variety of subjects detailing life and history along the mighty Mississippi. I thought the museum itself was dark and shabby, (the tram is as aesthetically pleasing as Droopy Dog), but the exhibits are interesting and cover a wide range from riverboats, civil war transportation, and the origins of the Delta Blues. Being the “freeway” of the 1800s and civil war life, the towns along the Mississippi saw their share of action: riverboat gamblers and entertainers, and the military advances of the Civil War, which also led to the crude methods of surgery held in makeshift hospitals.

The area on South Main, near the Lorraine Motel, is rapidly changing and now has many trendy restaurants and condos in old buildings. It’s a nice area to stroll around in during the day, and well removed from the noise of Beale Street. Bluff City Coffee has a nice ambience and good brew.

Earlier in the day I had made a reservation to take a “ghost tour” of the area, and we met our guide and a few other folks at a bar on Beale Street. Our guide: Memphis “Bones”, led us around to see many older buildings that served as hospitals and morgues during the civil war, including the Butcher Shop Steakhouse. On Beale Street we were given the lowdown on what bars formerly housed whorehouses and other dens of iniquity. Oddly enough many of the haunted locations on Beale Street happened to be bars and shops that were owned by our guides buddies, and could offer us many a discount. Skepticism aside I enjoyed our walking tour, and it gave some background to the buildings we frequently walked passed by during our stay.

I don’t follow Rock and Roll history, which I’m now finding to be an insufficient answer when verbally accosted about “How the hell could I go to Memphis and not see Graceland.” However the deep blues music on Beale Street was rich in musical flavor. Among one of the bands we listened to was the Dr. Feelgood Potts band. During his show he mentioned his music is on “YouTube”, (to the blank stares of every other tourists). But as the baffling popular comedian Dane Cook says: everything everyone has ever done is on YouTube, so Here’s a full clip.

Memphis summary: Great food, kick-ass music in a touristy area, annoying liquor laws, powerful civil rights history, and not everyone works at FedEx.

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The Lorraine Motel, where civil rights leader Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was slain, was purchased by King’s family, and in 1991 became a full museum. I had expected a few rooms of artifacts and a view of the motel room, but I was astounded at the depth and size of the complex.

The entire movement from the 1950s and 60s to present is chronicled, and includes extremely detailed histories of many notable figures and events. It was amazing to see the gathering of people and ideas from all over the south to create economic boycotts, organize marches and peaceful protest. From the sit-ins and freedom marches, to the gut wrenching resistance it was overwhelming to see up close. The museum culminates by viewing artifacts and stories of the march in Washington D.C., and ends viewing room 306 where Martin Luther King was assassinated. It was a moving experience to follow the timeline of the people, events, and politics in the southern states. This is worth a trip to Memphis alone. The documents and exhibits portray a vivid chapter in our recent history.

*Edit: Returning home I can say this is by far one of the most powerful places I’ve visited in the United States. Certain places have an unforgettable presence to them. For me most of those places have been shrines of nature such as glaciers in Alaska’s Resurrection Bay, or pondering the hard times of the Anasazi Indians atop a cliff in Mesa Verda. However I entered the simple looking Lorraine Motel expecting a brief tour, and found myself transported to the rough era of segregation and the civil rights movement. Being a white boy from Michigan the extent of my grade school to high school education on the Civil Rights Movement was, “Rosa Parks sat down on a bus and now African Americans have equal rights.”  The collection and comprehensiveness of this place was astounding. No trip to Memphis would be complete without immersing yourself here.

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This is by far the best place in Little Rock at any given Saturday morning: The Ottenheimer Market Mall downtown in the River Market District. They house a collection of local vendors and restaurants, from full breakfasts and simple pastries, to booths selling bagels and jams. They have a large coffee shop attached, and some vendors have full kitchens. I enjoyed biscuits and gravy at the “Coast Cafe”, and sampled coffee from the various vendors before exploring the large indoor/outdoor farmers market. For dining it’s more of a daytime place, but there are many dinner restaurants on the same block, family and upscale.

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After spending a day driving from Colorado through Kansas and Oklahoma, we Motel Sixed it off the interstate in Ozark, Arkanasas, and drove the remaining 120 miles to Little Rock in the morning. The prairies of Oklahoma give way to big lakes, hills, and wide rivers. Being a beautifully warm sunny Saturday morning we saw plenty of families with boats heading to the lakes for fun and recreation. And witnessed plenty of wildlife dashing across the interstate as well. (They all crossed safely).

We had planned to stop in downtown Little Rock for a quick breakfast before driving to Memphis. Like the urban cores of most medium size cities I expected Little Rock to have modest activity on a Saturday morning, but when we arrived downtown in the River Market District we were greeted with a lively environment. It was a diverse and interesting mix of people, from cyclists and runners having breakfast and lattes, tourists visiting the Clinton Library, and hundreds of people showing off suped up cars at the auto show taking place in the adjacent park

The Clinton Presidential Library is a short walk from the River Market area, at the end of President Clinton Street downtown. It’s been described as “A giant trailer home teetering over the river”, but in actuality it’s a very sleek and modern building. Akin to the 90s tech boom Clinton presided over, the interior seems a cross between a sub zero refrigerator and the Starship Enterprise.

The design aspects reminded me of a 1960s “kitchen of the future”, in which toasters and appliances would pop up from the counter, and retract down when not in use. (I’ve always wondered who you call to repair these). As expected in southern style the staff was very friendly, and I now own an “I miss Bill” bumper sticker.

Much to my kitchy surprise, Riverfront Park was dominated by a restored auto show. Many sport and classic cars were on display and superbly restored for all to admire. Unfortunately most of these beautiful classic cars lost their visitors to the countless number of General Lees from the Dukes of Hazzard. Some of the “General Lees” were authentic cars used from the show, others were personal projects. Although I didn’t wait in the hour line for Bo Duke’s autograph, I’m surprised to say he looks great for whatever his age is, surprisingly muscular and chiseled. Roscoe and Enos? The years have shown. We escaped the crowds by taking a walk up a multi use trail along the Arkansas River, but to our dismay it abruptly ended at the railroad tracks a mile downriver.

In general the area from Tulsa to Little Rock is a far nicer environment than I imagined. Everyone was friendly and welcomed us to the south, I thought Little Rock was a pretty cool town. Nothing could be more “southern” than standing on a hill overlooking the Arkansas River and Clinton Library while multiple General Lee clones fishtailed up and down the street blasting the air horn intro from the “Dixie” song.

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Hey another article from January I just came across. A must read article by syndicated columnist Froma Harrop.

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That comatose figure before the television is me. And the images flickering in her face are not of the Berlin Philharmonic playing Bartok or documentaries on China. They are “The Planet’s Funniest Animals” or reruns of “The Munsters.”

I watch television, and I use it as a drug. Let no one call me a television snob. But let me also draw a line in the sandbox: Free humans should never have television forced on them. This is happening more and more, and it gives me the creeps. I know others who feel likewise.

There’s no escaping TV. It’s in the doctor’s office, the gym and the jury-pool waiting room. It’s in the bar, whether there’s a game on or not. It’s at the airport, where CNN holds everyone hostage. Note how the monitors are carefully placed around the boarding areas so that no seat is beyond their grasp.

Hospital waiting rooms are perpetually under television domination. The detainees may want to read, pray or listen to their own thoughts. They are not allowed to. Television must be watched.

(more…)

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Our Deep South road trip October 2006. 

Cities visited: Memphis, Tuscaloosa and rural Alabama, New Orleans, and Oklahoma City. Day visits in Little Rock and Dallas.

Length: 10 days. Miles driven: 3,200. Research: Lonely Planet USA Book for city maps and address. Also printed some info from WikiTravel, and of course my friend Google for everything else.

Audiobooks listened to: Lost Lake and The Party Cloudy Patriot. Did you know Ipods have a feature that will play audiobooks at a slightly faster speed?

Route: From Denver I-70 to I-135 in Kansas, then south through Wichita. Oklahoma 412 through Tulsa, then I-40 through Little Rock to Memphis. From Memphis highway 78 to Alabama highway 43 to Tuscaloosa. From Tuscaloosa I-59 and I-10 to New Orleans. From New Orleans I-10 west to I-49, then I-20 to Dallas, and north on I-35 to Oklahoma City, then north through Kansas, and I-70 west to Denver.

It’s been a few years since I’ve done a long road trip. Or at least an original one that didn’t involve driving between Denver, L.A., or the midwest. In the west large cities are geographically isolated, so one usually opts to travel by flying, limiting road trips to more recreational ventures like camping or skiing, or visits to smaller town like Santa Fe or Durango.

I started writing this Saturday evening, 50 miles outside the Colorado border, (from the passenger seat).

Two days prior we were in the steamy climate of Louisiana, and now after departing Oklahoma City we’ve battled rain and harsh cold winds on the open prairies. But now, as if to welcome us home, the sky is a reddish burnt orange, and as usual in October the air is dry and crisp.

Our final meal of the trip was at Montana Mikes in Colby, Kansas, a surprisingly good family steakhouse chain a half mile north of the interstate. The last few hours of a road trip usually seem to be the longest, brought on by the anticipation of sleeping in your own bed, even if it takes well into the night to get there. A dollar fifty for another cup of coffee seems much more logical than a motel room when you’re only 200 miles from home.

On various travel websites I read a question frequently asked by non-Americans and Americans alike is the often negative toned question “Why don’t Americans travel outside the U.S.? Of course travel abroad whether long or short is a valuable experience if one makes it so, and Americans who venture beyond the beaches of Mexico can reap rich rewards in life experience, culture, and recreational adventures. But my answer to that question is to simply view the scale of the United States: Our country is an enormous expanse of land, people, and backgrounds. Within it contain thousands of pockets of variety and culture. If you venture deep into the U.S., beyond the interstates and large destination cities, you’ll find almost anything you can imagine.

For someone living in a manageable and friendly city like Omaha or Wichita a trip to Chicago or San Francisco has all the culture and worldliness as Paris or Tokyo. Conversely someone who makes their life in a hectic urban center can find warmth and solace in a small mountain town or a ranch in the wilderness. So in defense of the “insular American”, there’s a great feeling about connecting with your own land, especially diving into a completely opposite atmosphere from which you normally live and work. In just ten days of driving through the central plains and Mississippi River areas of the U.S. we saw the French settlements of New Orleans, examined Civil War life on the Mississippi River, and absorbed the spirit of a small college town. Within a days drive we were lost in county roads amid Alabama’s rural woods with seemingly more churches than houses. Then a few hours later surrounded by adult vices and non-stop partying in New Orleans.

An American roadtrip is a paradoxical experience: Miles and miles of desolation and endless stretches of interstate, with only the occasional truck stop for company. Then you’re swallowed up by huge sprawling cities with aggravating traffic, searching out fancy hotels and trendy bars to balance out the 20 billboards beckoning you to the Largest Prairie Dog Farm.

Eschewing the major interstate routes for the U.S. and state highways can be of great interest. About every 15 to 30 miles you’ll pass through the “Main Street” of a town - passing parks, small restaurants, and an old downtown with angled parking in front of the shops. Some main streets are bustling with activity, others are past their prime and struggling. But a road trip isn’t complete with a visit to at least one “Small town America”. The interstates cover large distances fastest, and to reach a destination quickly they’re the most efficient. The sacrifice is a monotonous landscape of freeway and seeing little character aside from the ubiquitous chain restaurants and motels that hug the off ramps. The smart traveler knows the best places for food and lodging lie a mile or two into the above mentioned towns. If driving our speedy interstates it’s worth the extra few minutes to stray from the off-ramp, even if just for lunch or to take a walk.

All in all a great trip. Planned well, the frequent rain gave a sultry atmosphere to New Orleans, and no problems save for one flat tire in the French Quarter.

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People really, really like to make up words: Brangelina, Infotainment, Imagineering. The newest non-word by a Denver area electronics retailer is “Intechxicated”. A problem in which the solution involves the paradox of simplifying your life by purchasing more stuff.

Several travel articles I’ve read recently have featured the made up word “Mancation”. My reading thus far tells me that a “mancation”, is nothing more than guys going on a trip or getaway together. Is forcing yourself to say “Hey bros let’s take a Mancation together”, somehow much less awkward and easier than saying “Hey guys, want do to Vegas this weekend?”. I guess if you’re going on a mancation, then it’s official, you’re going on a MANcation! (dude).

Urban Dictionary describes a mancation: “When normal guys engage in “guy” activities”. That specific phrase can only be 1,000 different things. Surprisingly Wikipedia has no entry as of yet.

Who created this word? Where are it’s origins? Oprah’s magazine? A marketing firm? A travel company? In the last two months MSNBC as well of scores of web travel aggregators, (plus scarcely read blogs like mine), have made reference to mancations. Yet whoever gave birth to this nonsensical word obviously didn’t give any thought to it’s rampant infestation in the vernacular world sound bytes, or else mancations.com would actually be a site of substance and be selling something.

Even AOL, normally only five to eight years behind new trends, managed to jump on the bandwagon with a puff article about “guys doing guy things”. (While choosing the most homoerotic stock footage available). Who knows where this mancation will head after three more cases of Michelob.

And people wonder why foreigners have such difficulty mastering English…

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Found this January article from the New York Times about the Hotel Basico. Even if a bit north of your budget the rooftop lounge is a great place to spend the evening enjoying drinks and music, as I did last spring.

Photo and NY Times article:

THE BASICS The Deseo Hotel and Lounge was the first to bring a sophisticated South Beach aesthetic to Playa del Carmen, the popular Yucatán getaway, when it opened in 2001. In July, the same owners opened a second property, the stripped-down, industrial-chic Hotel Básico, along the town’s pedestrian Avenida Quinta, a block from the beach. An open-air, street-level food stall and juice bar doubles as the reception area, where colorful soccer balls, beach towels and snorkeling fins for guest use share shelf space with espresso machines and water glasses. A trawling net filled with spare deck chairs hangs whimsically above the soaring lobby.

THE ROOMS The 15 rooms all have female names. Mine, the Paulina, had floor-to-ceiling windows and a sea view, but looked out more immediately at the vacant lot across the street. There is a distinctly modern beach flair: white concrete walls are hung with huge inflatable inner tubes, flat-screen televisions and stacks of towels. Instead of a night table, a wooden toolbox mounted on the wall opens to reveal a remote control, a notepad, matches, an ashtray and Polaroid film for the white camera that is attached to the king-size bed, rather naughtily, by a long silver chain. Cushy pillow-top mattresses, oversized pillows and pristine white cotton sheets are extremely comfortable, but a good night’s sleep is best assured with earplugs, as the upstairs bar spins music into the wee hours. There is not a lot of storage space, but luggage racks and hidden drawers slide out from under the bed.

(more…)

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Interesting view from the below New York Times Article, but why purchase a different product “just to be different”? I’ll conform, and keep the simplicity of my Nano rather than the mess of jumbled clutter below.

And Wired agrees.

When Max Roosevelt wanted to rebel, he got a Dell laptop and a SanDisk Sansa MP3 player. It was not a rebellion against his parents, who had been buying Dells for years. It was a rebellion against his peers, Mac-toting iPod addicts one and all.

I just didn’t want to have the same MP3 player as everybody else, and felt that there had to be equivalent or better players out there, Mr. Roosevelt, an 18-year-old native of Chappaqua, N.Y., said recently from his freshman dorm room at the University of Maryland. It’s not that I don’t like it; I just don’t like the whole cult mentality towards Apple. I don’t like how everyone gravitates toward it immediately.

(more…)

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I frequently read and contribute to Lonely Planet’s “Thorn Tree” forum, and often asked questions are from Colorado bound travelers regarding places to hike in Rocky Mountain National Park.

My recent hike in October proves it’s one of the best months to visit. Crowds are few, the air is cool and comfortable, and the aspen trees are at their color-changin’ best.

RMNP is about 80 miles from Denver. From downtown Denver Google maps routes it up highway 36, through Boulder, but a faster way to drive is up interstate 25 to highway 66 then west through the small town of Lyons, and take highway 7. (Quickest access to the Wild Basin trails described below).

If traveling to Estes Park take interstate 25 to highway 34, then west through Loveland.

Hiking trails of all skill levels can be found at the Wild Basin trailhead, from a simple stroll to some nearby cascades, to overnight camping, (via longer hikes), at the remote lakes.

Because it’s a national park the entrance fee is $20 per car. During the summer arrive early, as parking spots fill up fast. The lower trails can be busy, but of course the further back into the park you go the more sparse seeing other hikers becomes.

(more…)

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