City, Snow, Mountains, Desert

There are words in the English language which no one should be allowed to use in any ordinary context. These words are awesome, magnificent, glorious, astonishing, breathtaking. And so are these places. Last week we spent five days out West. I have wanted to see the landscapes of the West firsthand since the first time I ever saw a cowboy movie. Of course, the cowboy movies I saw were probably actually filmed in Italy, but maybe not. I was hoping to see something very different from the natural world I know, and I was not disappointed.
We arrived in Denver on Halloween, and saw not one sign of Halloween once we left the airport, where most of the airline employees had made rather lame efforts to be in costume. One flight attendant was wearing what looked like an orange potholder on her head; I think her intention was to be a pumpkin, but she hadn't the clothing or the body for it since, unlike most Americans, she was not yet thirty kilograms or more overweight. They might just as well have worn no costumes and been their usual selves. That would have been quite scary enough.
We spent Thursday in Denver, touring the U.S. Mint, the State Capitol building, and the Colorado History Museum. What we were all struck by was the effort and expense that were put into making the capitol and mint buildings such beautiful places. Looking at the marble and onyx walls, the brass drinking fountains and etched elevator doors that looked like the Baptistry doors in Florence, the half ton chandeliers, the hand carved white oak, Thomas and I breathed to each other, "It's like the churches and castles in Europe!" Except that here, ownership is an issue, and a democratic one, at that. Both of our tour guides made a point of reminding us that these buildings belong to the people. Edna, the capitol doscent wasn't happpy until she was sure that every child in the school group we joined for our tour could tell her that there are 6 million citizens of Colorado and that each and every one has a stake that building, and that it is the people who make the government and not the other way around. Until I go into such places here (state buildings and banks, for example), I usually walk around thinking about what poor aesthetic sense we Americans have, and how we lack any appreciation for the grand. After all, we have no castles, only few cathedrals. It is our banks and official buildings that seem to merit such effort because it is an iconic show of the priorities of a democratic, capitalist country.
In contrast, what the Colorado History Museum presented in its exhibitions were the every day lives and struggles of the people and peoples who lived or suffered for the self-reliant ideal of America. Unlike the capitol and the palace-like banks, their homes and lives glittered more with dreams than brass and crystal chandeliers and marbled walls. Interestingly, nearly all of this museum was underground, as if deliberate effort had been made to avoid the grand and palacial.
On Saturday, we saw the truly grand. Thomas drove us more than 400 miles to Utah to just outside of Dinosaur National Monument. Bram was of course thrilled with the park. We hiked and climbed to dizzying heights. We saw petroglyphs and pictographs (So this was art in America before the Middle Ages!) and all around us were real honest-to-God dinosuar fossils in the rock, and beautiful tiny gemstones on the sand. We stayed in a pension (here we call it a bed and breakfast) just outside of the park. One major difference seems to be that in a bed and breakfast, part of the 'fee' includes mandatory socializing with the owner. I never did get the courage to speak Spanish with her, though her cat, Tito seemed to understand me just fine. On Saturday, Thomas drove the long way back to Denver, through Flaming Gorge Utah and Wyoming and yet more awesome, magnificent, glorious, astonishing, breathtaking country.