Think snow!
There is something incredibly satisfying about cresting that last foot-hill on the way to your favorite ski mountain. The snowbanks flanking the narrow one-lane road, rising high above the roof of the car, the smoke wafting from chimneys of lonely little houses that dot the landscape, the smell of clean air -- they invite you to forget about life and enjoy yourself the way you would if you were young again. In fact, around these parts, nature has done everything to encourage leaving your 9-5 life behind. There are no supermarkets, cars without snow tires do not exist, and a snowmobile raced me along the highway earlier. People say "Hello" to complete strangers and offer to help out-of-towners (without an ulterior motive). The self-service island at the gas station means that no less than three people will be out there helping you to pump your own gas, even though you'd prefer they didn't -- simply to make conversation. There are no cell-phones, because there are no cell phone towers (no signal) -- no matter how much the gentleman riding the chair in front of mine wants to think that waving his hand with the phone in it will change the situation. People take their time speaking, they even take their time driving, they take their time doing everything -- because there is no rat race. There is no finish line, real or imaginary that one has to cross. In a word -- this is paradise.
However, even paradise has its limits. Wireless internet is creeping steadily into most places where one can stay up here -- man's answer to nature's attempt at isolation. The feeling of guilt for having left my books and laptop at home the last time I was here lasted weeks, and so in an attempt to appease my subconscious, I brought them. This means that tonight, instead of listening to something called "The Skinkx" play at the local bar, while truly enjoying life with the locals, I will be writing the "facts" section of my motion in opposition to summary judgment for my writing class -- guaranteed to be about as much fun as repeatedly poking yourself in the eyeball with your pencil (please do not try this at home). It's a trade-off, a compromise, a way to straddle the divide between paradise and real life -- a way to enjoy the present and what the future will bring.
The moral of the story is simple: find your paradise and make sure you spend some time there, and if you have to bring your work with you -- at least wait until the lifts are closed before bringing it out.
One last thing: think snow! Because getting snowed-in in up here certainly wouldn't be the worst thing to ever happen to me.

