My Roots Grow Around the World: Find the Mountains, Find my People

What is it about mountain folk?

What is it about high peaks, alpine lakes, and clear rivers that make for artisan fairs and craft beers?

Why can I find my Colorado people in the southern hemisphere of Argentina once I go up a couple thousand feet in elevation?

I love that nature and places hold energy, and that different energies create a certain kind of people.

El Bolson has its own breed of hippie artisan, Spanish farmer, grocer, musician and backpacker, but they are not so different from the valleys of the Rocky Mountains.

The mountains. They do this thing.

People from the city must feel similarly. But, in a city folk energetic kinda way.

Mickey is 80 years old, a New Yorker living in Buenos Aires for the past nine years.

He gushed about city life while we sipped champagne on his rooftop while watching the New Year’s Eve fireworks.

He talked about how he has to be in a city; he loves the energy, the people, the culture. But he was done with New York.

Buenos Aires he said, “Is so mellow. You see people reading…reading! On the subway! Can you believe that? I love it.”

I am a jumble of short circuited energy in the city.

I feel like it steals my breath, my rhythm. I just can’t blend.

I enjoyed my short time in Buenos Aires because I knew it was just that, a short time. I didn’t have to try to live there or root down.

If the outdoors intoxicate me, cities suffocate me.

All the same, I know I will be in and around other big cities for much of my traveling and I welcome it and know I can still be surprised. But, ah!

There is nothing in Buenos Aires that compares  with the view of the Rio Azul here in El Bolson.

My whole sense of self expands when I come home to the mountains.

I need bright blue skies and 360 degree views.

I need towering snow capped peaks in summer, and chilly, sparkling rivers to swim in.

I want cold beer and bare feet.

I want to walk out my back door and up into the hills. I need to hike.

I want the energy that the mountains give.

And it must give in a similar way around the world ,or at least it creates and draws a certain type of folk.

It is so comfortable here, so recognizable. So much like home but with a Spanish flair.

Perhaps, a little more earthy. In Colorado, the millionaires and billionaires of Aspen and Vail can take up residence in the quieter, less popular towns and change the feel.

Here, everyone is like, “Who needs that?”

There are no big mansions here. Who wants a huge home? The point is to be out doors. To live simply!

I love it.

I can have dirty feet and messy, curly hair here because it blends.

In a city, it looks out of place, homeless and unkempt. Here, it is just plain natural.

Everything is a little wild here, but full of magnificent beauty.

I am a mountain girl, but you know what? I was born on the west coast, raised briefly on the east coast, so I have some water in me too.

I am looking forward to beach life in Asia. Coastal living, fresh fish, kayaks, beaches, swimming. It is something entirely new.

I won’t quite fit in there, but I can blend for awhile. I can let them shake their sun kissed knowledge on me.

I can learn to lounge and hammock, build sand castles and dream about waves.

I am glad I don’t have to claim one spot as my place, my land, my home.

I go where I want, when I want. This is freedom.

The more I travel, the more I am aware of the ludicrousness of borders.

We are all travelers. We are all neighbors. We are all human here.