If you ever find yourself in zipping through Montana I recommend two things:
First, slowing down.
Second, stopping in a town posing as a city called, Bozeman. You’ll be glad you did both.
Bozeman sits in the southwest corner of The Big Sky State and is one of those American cities named after a man who once went by the same name. The town has steadily added about 1,000 people each year since 2010, and after ambling past trendy eateries, coffee shops, independent bookstores, lively music venues, and the city’s sole art gallery one can see why.
Affectionately known as the “Asheville of Montana,” you may struggle to find someone actually from here. Millennials are flocking here like an actor to the spotlight.
Bozeman it seems, is the place to be.
After a few hours on the main drag, my evening ended quietly on a sidestreet a stone’s throw from where a freight train once proudly rolled through. Never has living on the wrong side of the tracks been so quaint.
This morning as I peer out my window I’m greeted by a flurry or two. Upon further inspection, I discover this one-bedroom home is now covered in a not insignificant amount of snow. Instantly, I’m transported to my college days in Central New York, wondering briefly if I have a paper due.
Still, whether the streets are inconveniently paved in white, it’ll take a lot more to lower this place a peg or two on my coveted “hidden gems list.”