1996. 1998. 1999-2006.
These are the Memorial Day weekends that I have spent in Aspen, each one moving on a sliding continuum away from deserted. The first year I visited over Memorial Day weekend, the only restaurant open was the Silver City Diner (or at least the only one I specifically remember, maybe because it no longer exists). I had a very authentic Philly cheesesteak there. You can't get one of those these days in Aspen. Maybe Pour La France was open too, but they're long gone also. It was quiet, like I had the whole place to myself. Just what I was looking for on my solo getaway. I spent 4 days meandering around, driving out to the surrounding sights, taking pictures and pandering to my whims.
My next Memorial Day weekend trip, I brought a friend. This time I was sharing Aspen, both with my friend and with quite a few more people. More restaurants were open, they were skiing the top half of Aspen Mountain, the town had a whole different vibe. Of course, it's all relative; if you asked my friend, she'd probably comment on how quiet it was.
The next year, the year I moved here, I told my father that it had probably doubled from the previous year, the number of people around, the number of businesses open. Each year since then, while they tend to run together now that I'm not making a special trip, seems busier. In the past, Aspen was visited in the winter, then it was the summer and the winter, leaving the shoulder seasons deserted (even the locals left town). Now, the tourist season spreads out. More people come, more businesses stay open, and more people come.
The locals in Aspen have an ambivalence towards visitors. We love our town and we love that others love it. The visitors make it possible for those of us who live here to do so and we know it. And yet, perpetually dealing with people on vacation wears thin. Some people leave their manners at home when they go on vacation. Like most negative phenomena, they are a minority but they often overshadow the silent majority.
And so, I love walking around town when I have it all to myself. But I wouldn't want to always have it all to myself. I love walking around town when I'm sharing it too. There's an infectious energy level on a summer or winter evening in high season. The beauty of it is that we get to have it both ways. And, if that wasn't enough, when it all gets too crazy, I can walk up the street and disappear into my own little quiet haven in paradise.
My next Memorial Day weekend trip, I brought a friend. This time I was sharing Aspen, both with my friend and with quite a few more people. More restaurants were open, they were skiing the top half of Aspen Mountain, the town had a whole different vibe. Of course, it's all relative; if you asked my friend, she'd probably comment on how quiet it was.
The next year, the year I moved here, I told my father that it had probably doubled from the previous year, the number of people around, the number of businesses open. Each year since then, while they tend to run together now that I'm not making a special trip, seems busier. In the past, Aspen was visited in the winter, then it was the summer and the winter, leaving the shoulder seasons deserted (even the locals left town). Now, the tourist season spreads out. More people come, more businesses stay open, and more people come.
The locals in Aspen have an ambivalence towards visitors. We love our town and we love that others love it. The visitors make it possible for those of us who live here to do so and we know it. And yet, perpetually dealing with people on vacation wears thin. Some people leave their manners at home when they go on vacation. Like most negative phenomena, they are a minority but they often overshadow the silent majority.
And so, I love walking around town when I have it all to myself. But I wouldn't want to always have it all to myself. I love walking around town when I'm sharing it too. There's an infectious energy level on a summer or winter evening in high season. The beauty of it is that we get to have it both ways. And, if that wasn't enough, when it all gets too crazy, I can walk up the street and disappear into my own little quiet haven in paradise.
2 comments:
I don't know having Aspen to myself might not6 be all that bad.
As "the friend" I think it wasn't quiet, dead, but rather quiet not noisy and bustling with a lot of self-inflicted, competitive energy.
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