30-Day Blogging Challenge, Day 7: Places I’d Like to Move To

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30-Day Blogging Challenge, Day 7: Places I’d Like to Move To

Today’s topic is supposed to be “someplace you’d like to visit or move to.” Well, the number of places I’d like to visit is pretty damn big. My “Places to See” board on Pinterest shows some of them: the Lofoten Islands in Norway; Hallstatt, Austria; Lichtenstein Castle in Germany; Giraffe Manor in Kenya. Honestly, I could go on all day. So I decided to concentrate on the second half of the topic: places I’d like to move to.

Estes Park, Colorado

I’ve lived in Colorado most of my life (since I was eleven). My husband’s lived here since he was three. I can’t really imagine us ever leaving, but I do sometimes think about moving to a different part of Colorado, especially when I visit Estes Park (home of the famous Stanley Hotel, where Stephen King wrote The Shining).

Estes is beautiful, nestled into a little valley in the middle of the mountains, right on the border of Rocky Mountain National Park. In the spring and fall, the elk wander down from the mountains and stroll around town like they own the place. (Some might say they do.) It’s about as picturesque as you can get.

The down side, of course, is the tourists. Throngs of them flood the town in the summer (which is gorgeous) and fall (when the leaves are changing and the elk are bugling). Winter and spring may see a slump in their numbers, but with all the cross-country skiing, snowshoeing, and snowmobiling, they never go away completely.

The Oregon Coast

While on our recent anniversary trip along the Pacific coast, I added this region to my very short “maybe I’d be willing to live here” list. I could totally see myself retiring in some little house with an ocean view.

Now, I should add that I find the ocean utterly terrifying. Big bodies of water are not my friend, and the ocean is about as scary as it gets. I have nightmares of standing in a house by the ocean during a big storm, and seeing the waves crashing higher and higher, until they’re washing me out to sea. Nonetheless, that’s exactly what I’d like to have: a little cottage on the rocks, right over the water. It needs to be high enough that I’m not living in perpetual fear, but with a good view of the waves crashing off the rocks. (I don’t particularly need a beach, so to speak.)

And if I happen to be in close proximity to some of the many vineyards in the area, even better.

Maine

I’ve never been to Maine. Everything I know about Maine, I learned reading Stephen King, and watching shows like Murder, She Wrote and Haven, which probably explains why my visions of life there aren’t cluttered by mundane realities like paying rent, picking up dog poo, or doing housework. (I also assume, based on the above material, there are lots of murders and at least a couple of vampires.)

Also, why is it that I’m terrified of the ocean, but two of the three places I’d like to live are right next to it?

I have no idea.

All I know is, I have dreams of someday living in Maine. Every once in a while, I think maybe I’ll just abandon my life. I’ll run away and change my name and live in some adorable little fishing village, in a cozy cottage heated by a wood-burning stove. (I told Heidi she should rent the cottage just down the lane, but she didn’t seem too excited by the idea.)

maine

In the summer, I’ll eat fresh crab. In the fall, I’ll sit on the porch with my coffee, watching the leaves change. Come winter, I’ll bundle up in thick sweaters and wool socks and wander into town for hot clam chowder served with warm, crusty bread. I’ll write in the morning, spend my afternoons listening to tall tales told by burly, hirsute fishermen, and spend my evenings with a glass of wine in front of the fireplace. I’ll use my abundant royalties (this is a daydream, remember!) to pay hearty young men to shovel my walk and chop my wood (that is NOT a euphemism). (And I’ll only ogle them a little.)