Discovering Magna

Tucked against the northernmost foothills of the Oquirrh mountain range (pronounced “O-Ker”) along the west side of Utah’s Salt Lake Valley, you’ll find Magna—a small, unassuming town with a name implying greatness. If you happen upon Magna’s Main Street on a lazy Sunday, you’d experience the strange sensation of being in a modern-day ghost town. Along Main Street, interspersed among a few operating businesses, you’ll find dilapidated buildings like “The Gem” or “Dyches Pharmacy” standing as reminders of Magna’s heyday in the 1940s during the copper industry boom. There’s the distinct lack of vehicle or pedestrian traffic, save for the occasional resident slowly driving through on motorcycle or by pickup, eyeing the suspicious woman taking pictures of their modest town, or the locals standing in front of the Empress Theater engaged in light conversation. Magna appears much like a town lying dormant waiting to be rediscovered.

But it seems any positive mention of Magna to Utahns outside the town raises eyebrows. Magna has a less than great reputation as being a town dragged down by Meth users and depressed neighborhoods. That Sunday as I arrived, I did see a cop car down one of the streets, lights flashing, crime scene underway. But is that all there is to Magna? A ten-year resident of Magna in his late forties walking a friendly pit-bull named “Dazzle” struck up a conversation with me while I took my photos. He pointed out the plot of land across the street where the new library would soon be built, and the tiny building on wheels in that same field which was the town’s very first prison. He also told me about the northern corner of Main Street where construction for a retirement community was being planned (supposedly on haunted land, something about a fatal school fire). Regarding the Meth problems, he assured me they’ve cleaned up things quite a bit (as evidenced by the bust up the street?).

It’s the absolute mystery surrounding Magna which captivates me, the unearthed swell of potential waiting to shake the community into something new and exciting while still being rooted in history as one of the first settlements of the Mormon pioneers in 1851. It makes me consider opening a business on Main Street so as to be a part of the emergence, to affirm the spirit of Magna's newly installed lamp posts, to join in the struggle of this honest town’s efforts to preserve its identity in the face of urban sprawl.

Read about Magna’s history and its efforts to restore prior glory. Check out my photos of Main Street from that Sunday afternoon.

Utahns: Good Neighbors, Bad Drivers

When first arriving to Utah, there are two things you're bound to notice right away, especially if you've just come from a more cynical state like California. One is, Utah has some of the nicest people around, made up of about 60% Mormons with the rest of the population being a mish-mash of mostly-happy people with varying beliefs. The other is, they just might be America's worst drivers. These individuals are what my husband and I affectionately like to call, "Utards."

When I first arrived in Utah, I ended up one evening at a 7-11 station with a dead battery and happened to find a friendly man and his wife to help give me a jump start. They had to go back home and return with the jumper cables, but the gentleman was very kind, and his wife smiled and waved to me from the car. Another example is how our Utahn neighbors to the south of us said they watched our house while we were away driving our U-Haul back from California. The lady even told us that she came and sat on our doorstep so as to make the place seem occupied. Ok, is that strange, or am I just cynical?

Yes, everywhere you go in Utah, "shiny happy people" abound. There are cheerful, smiling teenagers who actually enjoy their jobs and speak to you respectfully, waiters and waitresses who sincerely want to know if you're satisfied, and perfect strangers in the gym or the grocery store who strike up a conversation with you. It's refreshing, and yet, strange. You find yourself thinking,"What do they really want?"

In a place that seems so confident and stable, still, there's something's not quite right out there on the roads. You're driving along and you see it...frequently. A car is lost in a slow Tokyo-drift or starts straddling lanes with total abandon, or a driver on the freeway is crawling along the shoulder hazard lights a'flashing to grab a conversation on their cell. You say to yourself..."Is this really happening?!" Yes, it is, and it gets worse. You find you can't drive anywhere without a spotting a Utard sleep-driving. You start to realize that California drivers are actually quite adept in their vehicular agression, while Utards are truly ignorant of their out-of-body driving. Caveat Viator!

I end this posting with a story to wed the points I made earlier. Just the other day my husband Scott noticed that the part of the fence surrounding our yard was bent out of shape near our driveway. Well, our good, honest lady neighbor across the street from us (the same who stood guard over our home months ago) confessed that their large truck rolled out of their driveway early in the morning and crashed into our fence. Need I say more? My only outlet lies in drawing silly cartoons like the one for this post to mock the madness.

Read the results of a "happiness poll" with the state of Utah topping the list!

Weekend Dining

If one were to drive around on Friday evenings in the Salt Lake City area in search of a dining experience, you'd hardly suspect that the current economy is keeping Utahans huddled in their homes at night protecting their pocketbooks.

Our search for a dinner spot during the weekend is not unlike those we've had over the past few weeks since arriving in SLC. We decide we'd like to go out, we don't know exactly where to go so we end up driving around strange, uncharted neighborhoods with the hope of seredipitously discovering a decent restaurant. When we find one, it is packed to the gills with as much as a two-hour wait for a party of two! We hit the road again, and an hour later, we're hungry and our luck seems to have run out. We take a gamble and stop at a place before starving to death, and it is usually good food.

So it was last night, after stopping at five different restaurants that were far too crowded, and doing skeptical drive-bys or walkouts from a number of others, we found ourselves jumping back on the freeway and heading north into the SLC downtown, weary and desperate (while still discriminating).

Once in downtown SLC, we found that our usual safe haven, Red Rock Brewing Co., which has a very delicious steak salad and good drinks that satisify, meant suffering a wait of 40 minutes with no room at the bar. Dejected, we walked down to a popular pizzaria next door that had a two-hour wait, and finally we ended up at Buca di Beppo on the corner that supposedly had a thirty-minute wait.

Fifty minutes later, we were finally seated, and the food was wonderful (though very long in coming, as crowded as it was). Scott and I had the "small" serving of the baked chicken cannelloni. I can't remember who told me about Buca, but I remember it being a good review (Kesha, was that you?).

Our dining adventure ended nearly four hours later, and the moral of the story is...there are good places to eat in SLC area, but just be sure you know exactly where they are and that you make reservations (and allow 30 minutes for getting lost on the crazy numerical street system they have here that doesn't make sense even when you have directions).

Driving around hoping to find a place is not the best way to experience SLC dining, though occassionally it works (start before you're hungry). And when in doubt, avoid heading south for the hunt, head north toward the urban hub where your chances of finding foodie fare are far better than none!

Rite of Passage

This past Saturday night Scott, a few of his work buddies, and myself headed up to Brighton ski resort which is only about 20 minutes up the road from our house up into the mountains. This was my first experience snowboarding, and though I knew it would be challenging...I had no idea. I'm smiling in the photo, but definitely not smiling as I sit here writing this.

It has not snowed up at Brighton for a week or so, and the ski/ride enthusiasts have packed down the otherwise powdery white substance into a bone-jarring force to be reckoned with. Scott patiently waited for me to get my cumbersome gear on while wearing thick snowgloves in the 20-something degree weather. Finally, I was ready to go. First stop, bunny land.

The "Explorer" lift had a few of the other beginners mostly on boards, some on skis, some on bike-skis. I went up with Scott, fell off the ski lift, and set the tone for the night. The first run down was a beating, I fell countless times, usually on my butt, sometimes on my hands.

Scott took off after awhile and I kept going. By the second lift up, I was able to coast off the lift without falling, and by the 5th or 6th time (though my body was screaming I should quit), I actually made it down the slope without falling, cruising along like I kind of knew what I was doing. And then the mighty series of falls started, two of which were caused by my very own husband whom I tried to scream at to get out of my way (he rides black diamonds...you'd think he'd be able to avoid a mad bunny on a slope). Lord!

That evening, I do not remember ever being so sore in my life.

My list of injuries:

• mild whiplash and very sore neck
  
• bruised wrists and right elbow
• bruised knees
  
• bruised tailbone and right butt cheek
• messed up right arm and shoulder from hard fall
• sore muscles all around

Monday, day two, was the worst pain. Today I head to the doctor to make sure I haven't busted anything in my neck or shoulder. I think it will take about two weeks or so for me to heal, and a good powder dump before I attempt this crazy sport again. One thing I can be proud of...I didn't quit, though it was a hefty price to pay. I'm sure eventually it will become a fun sport for me, but for now, I can only think of convalescence.

Dinosaur Dreams

Over the Thanksgiving weekend November of '08, Scott and I took a trip to Dinosaur National Monument. I've heard it described as Utah's best kept secret, given the popularity of other Utah destinations like Zion and Arches National Parks.

Our expedition took place during the off-season and we encountered only one or two other tourists in the area. The place was nearly deserted, save for the quiet presence you sense of the land's private movements. In isolated places, there is always a sense of being the voyer to Nature's grand orchestrations.

Dinosaur made us aware of the amazing beauty that Utah has to offer. I took photos with my digital camera like a fiend, and had to sort through hundreds of images to select the best ones.

Take a look at our Dinosaur National Monument Photo Gallery and marvel at the beauty with us.

If you'd like to see some of my comments on images in the slideshow, when you open the gallery link above, click on "show info" in the upper right part of the window. Size your window as large as you'd like to view them. Mouse over the featured photo to view the pause button on the bottom left to slow the transitions between images.

Blog Sweet Blog

Hello all!

Welcome to my blog about our adventures in the state we now call home...Utah! It's been over three months now since we've escaped California, and so far, so good.

When you're miles away from friends and family, it's nice to have a cozy cyber place to meet. Hope you visit here from time to time (whether you respond to email invitations or bookmark this site) and become a vicarious companion to our experiences.

I have some catching up to do over the past two months, so please visit frequently to enjoy the unfolding adventure...

Carmen (and Scott)