After spending the weekend in Boston for the ASA conference (American Sociological Association for those who aren't huge nerds), I was happier than ever to roll back into the Happy Valley. The past few days have confirmed for me the fact that I am most definitely NOT a city girl. I can't stand the stale environment, where everything has been paved over with concrete save a few obligatory trees stuck nervously between freeways, where instead of mountains you have malls full of Gucci and Louis Vitton, and where the people look like uprooted mannequins, walking briskly from store to store completely unaware that other people exist around them.
I never understood the allure of the city. I'll admit they can be fun to visit. For about an hour. After that, the anxiety that permeates the air starts to creep into your bones. Maybe I'm being overdramatic, but I just can't stand the artifical-ness that seems to characterize everything there. Even Boston Common seems so contrived to me. A frog pond, yes -- but its lined with concrete and conntains no frogs. Bizarre.
Even though I was happy to be back in Northampton, I still feel like some aspects of the city have seeped westward. On my drive home today I watched nervously as a motorcyclist passed me in the brakedown lane, revving his engine, and continued to weave in and out of traffic. Clearly, he had things to do and people to see. He made such a spectacle of himself and his rush. "I'm an important person," his engine screamed, "I have no regard for the people around me." Immediately afterward, a gigantic truck thought it imperative to squeeze his way into the turning lane, leaving about a half an inch between his side mirror and my own. Was it really necessary to do that? Couldn't you wait 30 seconds for my light to turn green. Spend that time admiring the sights and sounds of downtown Noho? Of course not. What good would that do?
I'll tell you. Today at lunch I took some time to feed a momma and baby bird some of my Doritos. Granted, not the healthiest thing to feed a bird. But it was fascinating to watch the mother bird pick up the little pieces, chew them up, and place them into the baby bird's mouth. The baby would make a commotion and flap its wings furiously inbetween each bite. It was really quite beautiful. And it was something I wouldn't have seen if I had been rushing to finish my lunch and get back to work. If I had been eating in the mall food court instead of outside in the fresh air. I guess I'm a country girl at heart, but I think that there's something to be said for living a slower-paced life surrounded by trees and mountains, that maybe its a good thing that the stores close at 6 pm and the city sleeps for a little bit. Even though Noho is a little more built up than the western mountains of Maine, spending some time in Boston helped me to appreciate the unstructured, un-commercalized rurality of this place even more, where the air is full of pollen and clouds and birdsong instead of smog and billboards and carhorns.
6 comments:
Well written.
Here, here.
I think the allure of the city is the endless opportunities. I don't particularly like Boston much myself, but places like NYC and London... You go out at night and you never know who you're gonna meet or what adventure you might have. You go out bored and end up at a Charlotte church concert at a gay club dancing with Graham Norton.
But yes, the stress does seep into you. Which is why people escape the city for places like Maine :)
One of the many reasons Maine is so great. You should read 'In Praise of Slowness' by Carl Honoré, if you can find the time. smile.
I have a hard enough time dealing with Portland, and that only qualifies as a "city" by northern New England standards ;) I mean, sure, there are more opportunities to meet people with "name-drop" potential in places like NYC and London, and while I'd certianly appreciate the value of seeing Monet's "Starry Night" up close and personal, I wouldn't trade having the real thing (on the ocean, no less!) within walking distance of my front door for all the galleries, museums and "cultural hubs" in the world. Granted, the most novel part of my summer, so far, has been catching and releasing a bat from our music room, but I wouldn't have it any other way... What could possibly compare to lving near roads with "turtle crossing" signs and "moose warnings" in the local traffic report? :)
I feel a lot of things in cities, primarily a lot of intense energy, and a sense of uprootedness, like I am not home.
The energy/activity is the pleasant part, though only in small doses--if I don't have a motel or hotel room to draw back into, the activity kind of overwhelms me.
I've lived in one place for so long that even one or two days away from home leaves me frazzled and raw. I know that's not the case for the majority of people my age, but for better or worse, I need the stability of a permanent environment.
Rather than view myself as insecure and unadventuresome, I imagine for myself a deep life rooted in a particular Place: I've set down deep taproots--in a rural environment full of clear skies, dark conifers, twisted apple trees, long green lawns, trails through the forest, old barns, and history everywhere.
I like both cities (the food!) and the country (the food!), at different times and for different purposes. And some cities are much better than others. Minneapolis has many of the best qualities of a city and a small town... at least it did when I lived there a decade ago.
I contest, however, the assertion that city drivers are the only ones that are self absorbed. Noho and Valley drivers display their own brand of "I have no regard for the people around me." They meander from lane to lane, usually without signals. They stop for no apparent reason, oblivious to the line of people behind them. They race to merge, each anxiously trying to be the closest to the front of the line... even though we all know we're going to end up at a stop light. And on occasion, when you have the audacity to honk at them for one the entitled behaviors listed about, they flip you the bird.
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