I’ve been in Aspen for around six months. I don’t have the exact number of days, mostly because I don’t want to look it up. Six months is about right.
I like to think I’m settling in nicely to my new home. Snowboarding is getting better, at least in that I’m able to travel 500 or 600 feet before falling instead of 50, which makes the days much more enjoyable. I can get out every week or two, which I assume is heretical to some, but is infinitely more winter exercise than I’ve done thus far in my life.
I’m starting to recognize faces of a few of the locals, and it seems like some around town remember me. It helps that whenever the workers at Grateful Deli or elsewhere ask what I do around here, “edit at The Aspen Times” is more likely to start a conversation than something like “check my trust fund balance.”
I’ve even been stopped once or twice and asked for directions. On the checklist of fitting in, that must be up there. I take it that wearing jeans, a T-shirt and a thin coat while nonchalantly heading toward the post office paints me as slightly more of a local.
Side note, turns out Cooper Avenue isn’t the one with the lifts and the mountains. Sorry to the person who asked. I’m still working on the giving correct directions part.
All in all, things are going pretty well. The flow of the town has taken some getting used to, simultaneously busy without feeling urgent, but things are comfortable. After six months and finally feeling like a part of the community, the next step is to find my niche and give back to a place that’s been so accepting to a recent transplant.