When you tell someone you like their store, and they say: it’s eclectic! That’s how you know it’s not their store. It’s so windy in Havre, Montana, that I can hear it blowing through the vents of the hotel where I’m staying. Even though the room I’m in has no exterior windows. It faces the indoor pool in the hotel lobby, but luckily the smell of the chlorine doesn’t enter.
Outside, I keep losing my hat. No, don’t say losing, because I need. What I mean is that this hat keeps blowing off, and then I rush to pick it up, brush off the dust. It’s very dusty here; everything is dry right now, and I recognize on of the hallmarks of the West from Santa Fe: gas guzzling trucks spewing toxic fumes that blow quickly away. Almost quickly enough.
It doesn’t seem like there’s been much development in downtown Havre in the last 50 years, so there are lots of gorgeous old buildings. I actually really enjoy my walks, once I figure out how to get across the thoroughfare that’s the only major street in the part of town where staying. Then I get back, and I’m wrecked, everything hurts, I meant to buy Epsom salts, but then I worried they would dry out my skin.