By: Ana Alexander
Adventure, Creative

Writer’s Retreat at The Davidson

Not all vacations can be lovely. At least, not all the time. Even if the location is lovely.

And truly, one of the two redeeming qualities about my recent writer’s retreat was the location.

Meet The Davidson.

God, this place was amazing. I can’t wait to stay again for a take two.

Let’s start with a tour.

First, you enter this beautiful mansion located on Summit Avenue in Saint Paul.

Beautiful woodworking, check. Grand staircase, check. Opulent rug, check. Stained glass windows, check.

I started bouncing around on the heels of my feet as soon as I saw this place, because I was so amped. I hurried right up to my room, 201.

My goal was to spend three days dedicated to my writing – organizing what I’d already written, editing what needed to be cleaned up, and writing new pieces. I picked this place because I wanted to be in Saint Paul, which I find to be an inspiring writing place. There’s plenty of good coffee shops, Summit Avenue is gorgeous, and of course, it’s all proximate to my favorite writer, F. Scott Fitzgerald. Don’t worry, you’ll be hearing about him again today.

I specifically chose The Davidson as my place to stay because of room 201. The minute I saw it on their website, I knew it was a place I could write in. I’m very picky about writing locations if my intent is to sit there and write for hours, and there were several spots in the room that I could imagine myself writing at while I looked at The Davidson’s website, and spoiler alert, I ended up writing at all of them.

I could tell just by looking at that giant couch that it was extremely comfortable – and it was. I spent hours there either writing or spiraling into existential crisis. The chair was super comfy, as well. When I write, I like to change locations every now and then, even if it’s slightly, so it was nice to have two different comfy seating options.

There was also a writing desk in the room, which I took as a sign that I should for sure book this place.

I never ended up using it, however, because I felt like it would actually not be sturdy enough to write on, and I was scared to break such a beautiful antique piece of furniture.

There was an homage to our location on Cathedral Hill on the wall – I really liked this picture and wanted to steal it, but let the court records show that I did not, in fact, remove the picture from the walls.

Just outside my room was a beautiful landing, which I spent some time examining.

There was a giant old map of the city of Saint Paul, which was extremely cool.

To head back downstairs, there was another landing with a window seat and stained glass windows.

I imagined myself sitting there to write, as well, but I ended up keeping mostly to my room and the library. Oh yes, there is a library. We’ll get there.

First, please join me in admiring the stained glass windows on the landing.

Gorgeous.

Ok, to the library!

It was a warm, inviting space which was again blessed with extremely comfy chairs. I sat and wrote in each of these chairs.

There was a set of leather chairs next to the window that faced Summit Avenue, which I sat at in the evening, enjoying the scene of Summit Avenue slowly falling asleep.

I looked at every book in the library, and my favorite was this set of clothbound Shakespeare editions with shimmery gold text.

Across from the library was a beautiful living room, which I also intended to write in. However, I enjoyed my time writing in the library and my room, and didn’t venture much beyond there. Next time.

Let’s step outside for a moment.

There’s no arguing that this building is gorgeous. There were a few places at the back of the mansion that were a little crumbly, which is a sentence that sounds ridiculous even as I type it, because “mansion” and “crumbly” do not at all belong in my list of complaints. However, there is a driveway and path leading to a balcony at the back of the property that has seen better days. No judgement on my part – it’s an old, historic home, and things are bound to not last each turn of time. Sometimes social media and the internet breezes over things that aren’t pretty, so I don’t want to be complicit in omitting the less-than-perfectly-beautiful parts.

At the back of the hotel was a huge overlook of the city.

I found it beautiful as it was, but I imagined it was even more gorgeous when the home was first built, and there wasn’t as much city in the background.

The mansion was built in 1915 for the Davidson family, and in 1961, it became home to The College of Visual Arts. You could see traces of this outside.

It’s hard to tell through the flowers, but there was a small structure at the back of the home, which was likely once a space for a groundskeeper or gardener, which has a sign on it stating, “Sculpture Studio.” It was fun to imagine the two previous lives the home has led – a family home and a college for artists.

And that concludes our tour!

I had placed a lot of expectations on myself for this writer’s retreat, which is why it didn’t pan out as I hoped. My first evening at The Davidson, I let myself check out the home, and simply relaxed in my room. I had been listening to the audiobook for Daisy Jones & The Six, which I cannot highly recommend more. Just go listen to it. I was addicted, and I decided to let myself lounge in my room for the last few hours of the day, listening to the work of art that is the Daisy Jones & The Six audiobook. A solid choice on my part.

However, the next morning, I woke up to a splitting migraine, something that happens to me on occasion. I took painkillers, but I felt like garbage for most of the day, and didn’t do any productive writing. Existing just hurt, so I slept most of the day away, took a bath in the jetted tub in my room, and finished the rest of my audiobook.

It was rainy in Saint Paul, which seemed to echo my mood.

Near the end of the day, I was starting to feel better, and felt like I needed to get outside, so I decided to go for a walk around Summit Avenue, like F. Scott Fitzgerald used to do when he needed to clear his head and get a break from writing. I hadn’t done any writing, but I did need to clear my head from the groggy migraine haze, so I set out.

It was nice to get outside for a bit, and Summit Avenue is beautifully kept.

I enjoyed the signage outside some of the houses.

“Vote – and tell them Ruth sent you.”

I walked to my favorite coffee shop, Nina’s, which was incredibly busy, as per usual.

Across the street from the Blair Arcade, the building Nina’s lives in, is a building that F. Scott Fitzgerald used to walk to during his breaks to buy cigarettes and coca-cola.

One of my favorite things about Summit Avenue is that occasionally you’ll walk past poetry they’ve stamped into the sidewalk.

This one felt particularly appropriate.

And of course, I had to walk past the birthplace of the man himself.

I am going to subject you to three photos of it.

I really think this is a beautiful building. I wonder if the residents coordinate flower baskets or if there is a clause in their rental agreement that demands they hang these particular baskets.

Maybe it’s the Friends of the Libraries that take care of it. Either way, it’s really cool that this building is maintained and honored for being F. Scott’s birthplace! I would love to see the inside someday.

Despite the migraine, it truthfully wasn’t a bad way to spend a day – I was able to relax in a really beautiful space and listen to one of my favorite books I’ve experienced this year, in one of my favorite neighborhoods on the planet.

However, my Type-A personality kicked in, and I felt overwhelmingly disappointed in myself. It’s not often that I get away for long stretches of time, and I felt like I’d completely wasted precious time that I could have spent writing.

I made my way to the library, and spent a few hours writing and getting distracted periodically. This little guy in the stained glass was beginning to look exactly how I was feeling about myself.

I got a bit of writing in, but eventually, evening fell, and the sounds of fireworks started to crackle nearby. It was the Fourth of July, and I headed to the balcony in the backyard to watch several fireworks shows radiate in the distance.

After the show, I walked up the long sidewalk to the entrance of the hotel, and was struck by how pretty Summit Avenue was at night.

The next morning, I was determined to recoup my lost time, so I started my morning right by grabbing some much-needed caffeine and a croissant from La Boulangerie Marguerite.

It was divine.

One of the reasons I booked The Davidson, aside from the obvious, was that a stay with them includes a pass to The University Club on Summit Avenue, which I’ve always wanted to go into. For one thing, it’s very beautiful.

And secondly, it’s another F. Scott Fitzgerald site. He used to come here to write, and he and Zelda famously threw a “Bad Luck Ball” on Friday, January 13, 1922. He also infamously carved his name into the bar, which I’ve always wanted to see.

So I set out with my favorite notebooks and pens, set on writing in the same space as one of my literary idols. I’ll note here that I was beginning to feel the oncoming of a very bad anxiety day. I could feel it settling into my bones, somehow, and I was feeling alert to everything around me, in a disarming way. I’ve talked a bit about mental health on here, but this was really the reason why my trip didn’t pan out as I’d hoped. Migraine on day one, panic attacks on day two. For no evident reason, but I felt shaky as I started the second day of my retreat.

There was a part of me that, despite my years of wanting to visit the University Club and my true excitement to see it that day, wanted to simply curl up in the bed in my hotel and not leave. I have learned through experience that I am stronger than my anxiety tells me I am, and oftentimes the regret of missing out is worse than the anxiety itself, and sometimes can even lead into a bigger spiral, so I made myself walk the few blocks from my hotel to The University Club, taking deep breaths in and out the entire way to calm myself. I was feeling better when I arrived, but it was like I could still sense something hovering on the horizon.

As I was leaving The Davidson, however, I ran into a little friend.

It kind of looked like he was breaking the rules though – I suspected he’d been there longer than the 15 minute time limit.

I took this photo from afar, but he was positioned just as I walked out of the hotel. I came across him at the same time I was talking myself up, convincing myself I needed to get outside and go somewhere, and not ruminate in my anxiety alone. It felt significant to see this little guy, because oftentimes when I’ve been particularly anxious or questioning significant aspects of my life, a bunny appears in a weird way, and it calms me down. It feels like a sign from the universe that everything is going to be okay. I have plenty of stories I won’t go into detail about now in which similar things have happened, but the second I saw this little guy, I felt a little more at ease.

So I made my way down Summit Avenue, heading to my destination. Let’s take a tour of The University Club.

When you walk in, there is a giant chandelier.

Pictures don’t do it justice.

I was hungry, so I went to eat outside on the deck before settling in to write.

I kept thinking things like, “This tree was probably here when F. Scott Fitzgerald was here!” and “I wonder if those umbrellas have always been striped?”

My anxiety started really kicking in, and I debated on whether or not I should ask my waitress about F. Scott’s signature carved into the bar, or if I should just seek it out myself. I went back in forth in my mind, but when she came over, I ordered my salad, and before she walked away, I started to say, “So, I’m a huge F. Scott Fitzgerald fan, and I heard that –”

Before I could even finish my sentence, her eyes lit up, and she said, “Do you want to see it?”

I responded, “Can I?”

She excitedly nodded her head and said, “Follow me.”

Her excitement to show me the carving immediately calmed me and made me feel a little more at ease. It’s really amazing how small interactions can impact you when you’re not quite feeling yourself.

It made the experience that much better for me that she was so kind and excited to show me the carving.

I’d also brought my Polaroid with me, and was nervous to be such a huge dork, but she was super encouraging and even tried to help light up the area with her phone so I could get a better photo. Unfortunately, it was super dark in the bar and my Polaroids ended up coming up completely black. But I got to see it in person, and my phone captured the carving just fine.

I was surprised to see that the carving was just out in the open – not under glass. She said they varnish it frequently to keep it intact. I was also surprised to see that there were multiple names carved into the bar. It must have been the thing to do at the time.

The rest of the bar was pretty cool looking, and I thought it would be a fun place to eat sometime. However, I’d decided to eat my lunch in the sunshine that day.

It hit the spot.

After lunch, I headed upstairs to the library, where I started to feel a lot better about myself and my retreat.

I settled in with my favorite notebooks in the extremely comfortable chairs around the long, mahogany desk in the center of the space.

Again, I couldn’t help myself and had to check out the books in the space.

They were all stamped with The University Club’s mark.

There were many books about Paris, which I decidedly took as a sign, but there was a startling lack of Fitzgerald.

I sat in this space and wrote for hours. I got a lot out, and it made me feel much better about the success of my retreat.

After nearly filling a notebook, I decided I needed a change of scenery, and wanted to check out the rest of The University Club.

I descended the stairs and found another large room with comfortable-looking chairs, and a bonus coffee station.

Just around the corner was a very beautiful bar.

And through the bar was another dining room, which was closed until dinner.

I returned to the main room, and selected a leather chair in the back corner, near the fireplace, a bookshelf, and this sweet old globe.

Ambiance.

I sat here for a few more hours, drinking coffee out of my cute University Club cup, and writing some really good stuff that I was proud of.

It was getting close to dinner by this time, and I was hungry and indecisive. I couldn’t figure out where I wanted to eat, and part of me wanted to order Uber Eats to my room so I could continue writing there. I decided to head to my hotel to make my decision. I was feeling a bit off, and even though I was hungry, I decided I would take a 30-minute power nap and then decide where to eat. Instead, I took a nap and woke up to a panic attack. It was like the anxiety that had been hovering on the horizon all day decided to finally hit.

I took some time to calm down, but then decided that being alone wasn’t ideal for me, so I went to Cosetta’s for their pizza and a salad, one of my favorite meals. It was good to get outside and to be around people again.

When I finally returned to my hotel, I was feeling down about myself and my progress. Despite the fact that I’d had a full day of writing that I was proud of, I felt like I hadn’t accomplished enough. I wanted to have a more polished set of poems, and I’d felt like while I’d written more, it was only draft one. I’d wanted to revise more of my other poetry, and nothing felt like it was far enough along.

I’d spent a lot of my trip sitting at the window in my room, and the view was lovely at that time of day.

As I was sitting there contemplating my feelings of inadequacy, I started to take a video of the evening sky, and out of nowhere, my bunny friend emerged, making a dramatic hop across the sidewalk. It was so abrupt, I gasped in shock – it sounds silly, but it felt like another sign from the universe when I was at such a low point.

After his melodramatic hop, the bunny hopped over in front of my window, in the middle of the yard, and laid down to rest.

It was hard to get a good photo since it was so dark, but you can see his little white tail.

It felt like a sign that I needed to just allow myself rest.

The next morning, it was time to check out, but I had decided to spend the rest of the day in coffee shops writing. I still had a few hours left in my retreat. However, the universe had other plans, as my car broke down in the middle of Minneapolis! It was the cherry on the anxiety cake at the time.

I was luckily able to get my car somewhere I could park, and when I restarted it, it seemed to be okay. I cautiously drove myself home and scrapped my day of writing, and fortunately, when I was able to get it in the shop, it wasn’t too expensive of a repair.

It was pretty in-keeping with the theme of the weekend, and at the time I was crushed by how things had gone. Again, I’d put so much pressure on myself to meet a certain level of progress, and when it didn’t happen the way I wanted to, I considered myself a complete failure. The anxiety didn’t help.

Looking back, I probably just needed to embrace the rest that I should have taken. While I didn’t do exactly what I hoped to accomplish, I wrote a lot of good stuff, and I should have celebrated that and allowed myself time to rest when I needed it.

My hope is to head to The Davidson for another retreat in the future, and this time to allow myself to use that time however I need it in that moment, instead of holding myself to standards I can’t healthily meet.

I would highly recommend The Davidson to anyone looking for their own little retreat, or for a place to stay in the Twin Cities. It really was a beautiful space that I can’t wait to visit again.

Thanks for coming along with me on this unusual journey! I enjoy sharing my adventures, travels, and creative processes, and my hope is to not always gloss over unpleasantries and share some of the less-than-pretty things along the way, as well.

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