Willkommen in Amerika!

The arrival in Denver is unexpectedly uncomplicated: Nobody wants to see our antigen test, the line at passport control is short, and after two questions about our stay in Mexico and our intentions in the States, it's already done. The acoustic accompaniment of American Natives' songs with the corresponding images of different tribes accompanies us through the corridors, which seems somehow bizarre - a sincere homage?

We learn that a train leaves for downtown every 15 minutes. The airport is far outside the city and we drive towards Denver through steppe-like landscape. When we arrive at Union Station, we look for the right bus line to get to West Colfax Street. In the end, we board a different train line, as the waiting times and transferring by bus would most likely take longer. The train ride alone and the 20-minute walk to the hotel show us the incredibly diverse faces of the USA. From homeless people to talkative yoga instructors, people who feel they are being followed by drones (and let us know), to the very shy Asian front desk manager of the motel, there is a lot to see. The hotel is comparatively expensive (100 dollars per night for a dive like in Hollywood movies), a bit dirty, and populated by a variety of characters, all on the fringes of society. The area is not very inviting and quite a culture shock after Mexico. We find an online Thai restaurant that is about a 10-minute walk from Walmart. The food is amazingly good and we look forward to our car buying marathon tomorrow.

The night passes without any major complications, except that Roman gets bitten by bedbugs and carries pretty big bumps on his back. Since we are not thrilled with the hotel, we check out and move to the nearest hotel that looks cleaner from the outside. Here too, worlds collide: Across from the hotel, many homeless people have set up camp on an abandoned property. Unfortunately, we wait in vain for the owner. Meanwhile, a woman brings us two bottles of water: it is hot and she saw us waiting. Acquaintances of the owner also try to reach her, but without success. So we have no choice but to go back to our old hotel. During the time I check in again, Amelia gets to know Bill, an alcoholic who is staying five doors down. He immediately wants to come to our room to present us with a "tribute," as he says. He hands us 50 dollars, which we must under no circumstances refuse, and wishes us "Welcome to America!" We Swiss travelers receive a contribution to our travel fund from someone who probably needs the money more urgently themselves. The two experiences, the woman with the water and Bill, make us very humble. We have never experienced anything like this from complete strangers in Switzerland.

Of course, we also try to get a SIM card. This is unfortunately more difficult than expected. The US mobile network providers do not include European phones. Accordingly, we would have to buy a smartphone, then get a SIM card and credit. But that's too much hassle for us, so we stick to hunting for WiFi in cafes and restaurants.

After storing our backpacks in our old room again, we set out to visit the numerous car sales on West Colfax Street. It is scorching hot, and we have about 6 kilometers of road ahead of us with about 30 car dealerships... Let's go!

On the way, we ponder how we could show our gratitude to Bill or spend some time with him. Since we don't know what he likes (except alcohol, and even there, there are different tastes...), we decide on a harmless 6-pack of local beer. The idea is that once we have closed the deal on a car, we will toast with him.

At the end of our car marathon, we have found a favorite: a white 2010 Dodge Grand Caravan. Ideal for sleeping in, large enough to store bags and food, and pleasant to drive as it still belongs to the smaller "street ships" ;).

We take a test drive with our salesperson Vincent in the back seat. Vincent is very reserved, polite, patient, and takes a lot of time for us and our concerns. We bring the car to another garage for a quick check. It turns out that the car has a few problems that need to be repaired sooner or later. We take photos of the findings and go back to the seller. There are two options: either they fix almost everything, pay $500 less, and can only leave on Monday, or we take the car as it is, get a $1000 discount, and can leave right away.

We decide on option 2.

After seemingly endless paperwork (Roman has never signed so many things), the Dodge is ours! Yes, joy reigns!

Completely euphoric that we have realized our plan and bought a car within 8 hours, we return to our motel.

Bill is already standing on the balcony in front of his room, and we realize that he is quite drunk. Nevertheless, we want to talk to him and his colleague Robert again and thank them. Bill is in a good mood, is happy about our gesture, and tells us about his eventful life. As he is already tipsy, he speaks a bit louder than usual - but he is far from shouting. Besides, it is around 5pm, and "quiet hours" at the motel are from 9pm to 9am. So we think nothing of it when we hear rumbling and cursing from the room next door... Suddenly, the door flies open and a man stands in the doorway, yelling at Bill and telling him to shut up. And then it happens: Bill makes the mistake of approaching the man and telling HIM to shut the hell up. At that moment, the man extends his arm and sprays Bill with a full load of pepper spray from close range, directly in the face. The liquid runs down Bill's neck and upper body, and his face looks like it has been soaked in Betadine. The door immediately falls shut again, Robert escapes to the side to catch his breath, Roman was a bit closer to Bill and also got hit with pepper spray but quickly grabs a water canister from our room. Together, we try to get Bill to sit down and wash the spray off his face as much as possible. The fumes are so strong that I start to gag and tears start streaming down my face. It itches horribly everywhere. Just imagine how Bill feels with that mass of spray right in his face... Unimaginable!

I stay with Bill, trying to help him, while Roman runs to the reception to get the manager to call the police. Finally, Bill's wife returns with the room key, and he can lie down. An employee brings a cloth soaked in milk, which eases the burning sensation.

The manager doesn't want to hear about it. And when we say that we don't want to sleep two doors away from a crazy person with a low threshold for aggression, he simply holds the receipt up against the plexiglass: paid once, no refund. Great!

When we return to our room, there are two police officers in front of the perpetrator's door. Since Bill approached him, the attack was deemed "self-defense." In the end, we also speak to the two officers "as witnesses" to the incident. They say they rarely encounter such a calm and nice perpetrator. Bill then steps out of the room, all cleaned up. In front of the police officers, however, he denies being the victim of a pepper spray attack. He denies everything and behaves badly. Apparently, he would rather have nothing to do with the police. Crazy world!

Shocked, sad, and paralyzed, we seek refuge. We recover from the shock in the Thai restaurant where we were last night, simply amazing cuisine!

With little sleep and always a bit nervous because of our presumably aggressive neighbor, the short night ends early and we leave Denver as quickly as possible, without drawing Bill's attention to us once again, who is already awake and walking around the premises.

At the gas station, we are approached by a guy pumped full of drugs, and that's it for Denver and its dark sides. We are probably a bit spoiled and well-intentioned, but these sides of Denver have shocked and saddened us.