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oyceterSigh. My mom's leaving tonight =(. And while it's sometimes annoying having her here (she talks to me when I am online, keeps telling me how to drive, etc.), it was also quite nice. Plus, kitchen bonding. And she bought me a pretty new pot and knives. And it felt like I was a part of society again because Lin Ah-yi came over more often, etc. Ah well. At least the boy will move back in, and I will not be all by myself.
Will write down other things to distract myself, namely, thoughts on scenery. It's strange sometimes thinking of how different places can feel and look. California, specifically South Bay Area, will always be giant skies of blue, occasionally punctuated by white clouds, all too perfect and large to be true. That and the dry, baking sun, which I adore. The vegetation here is a different color than back at home (it's still not quite home yet, though close) -- it looks dry. The leaves of things are muted, olive greens and greens tinted with brown on hills covered with dirt and shrubs and yellow grass. And it is flat here, although, thankfully, I can see mountains in the distance.
Colorado (Trinidad), where Sarah lives, is a bit like this, the yellow grass that makes me think of prairies, the low cottonwoods, but Trinidad is always shadowed by the mountains. Watching the shadows of clouds playing on the mountain sides is always a picture I'll keep in my mind.
The east coast feels dusky as well, except instead of dry, the trees to me feel more foresty, older somehow, and more mysterious. There's a sense of age on the east coast California doesn't have for me (ahh, my strip malls, heh), and the houses of brick and wood, sometimes run down, are too much out of a book to feel entirely real. Princeton for me is stone buildings and Gothic architecture, cold and wet. Although sometimes I remember the fall days when the sky is bright blue and the trees in front of McCormick have turned a brilliant orange, and the contrast is stunning and the air smells of that ineffable scent of autumn. Princeton is also small stores that have been there for ages, upscale, with little nooks and crannies, wool coats and boots, while California is bright colors, sun, sun, sun, a big bowl of sky above me and the feeling of wanting to lie down outside for forever.
But they still feel similar when compared to Taiwan. I miss Taiwan still. Sometime in my nine years there I forgot that I was first used to the pine trees and Rocky Mountains of Ft. Collins, and I grew accustomed to the almost technicolor greens of the mountains there, mountains that are rounded and which loom everywhere. I remember standing on the fourth floor outside the classroom and looking at the blues and purples of them after the rain. I miss the feeling of plants growing wild, despite the lack of lawns, the look of shrubs and weeds and who knows what else poking through the earth. I miss waxy green leaves tinged with yellow and that bright spring green I can't find here. I miss the mountains. Sometimes I even miss the humidity, even when I love the dry heat here. The weather there -- air so laden with water that everything would be slightly damp, then a sudden darkening of sky and a downpour of rain, warm raindrops so large you could feel them burst like water balloons. Then, five minutes later, the sun would come out, and it would all be over. I miss the howling winds that would rattle the windows while I sat warm inside, the chill that comes from concrete houses and no heaters, tile everywhere. I miss the concrete jungle of the cities.
Hong Kong is a little like that, but I love Hong Kong for itself. It has the verdant greens and the mountains and the island climate of Taiwan, but it's completely different because of the buildings, which spiral up out of the ground, narrow and tall and spindly. Yet they burst out of the mountains of Hong Kong in clusters and are a surprise to the eye, metallic growths in the middle of the jungle. Everything there is so tall and narrow that it made Taiwan feel spacious.
China and Japan are different, I think because they aren't subtropical islands. They don't feel quite as normal to me... China is too large, too many open areas, and too new. The metropolises there are just beginning. Although Shanghai's mix of European turn of the century buildings and concrete architecture is surprising and strangely foreign. I don't remember much of Japan's greenery -- I guess I didn't see that much of it in Kanazawa. Japan is always characterized in my mind with the stores and the shops and the urbanness of it.
Sigh. I miss Taiwan, even though I love California. I think I never quite felt at home on the east coast because of the cold.
Will write down other things to distract myself, namely, thoughts on scenery. It's strange sometimes thinking of how different places can feel and look. California, specifically South Bay Area, will always be giant skies of blue, occasionally punctuated by white clouds, all too perfect and large to be true. That and the dry, baking sun, which I adore. The vegetation here is a different color than back at home (it's still not quite home yet, though close) -- it looks dry. The leaves of things are muted, olive greens and greens tinted with brown on hills covered with dirt and shrubs and yellow grass. And it is flat here, although, thankfully, I can see mountains in the distance.
Colorado (Trinidad), where Sarah lives, is a bit like this, the yellow grass that makes me think of prairies, the low cottonwoods, but Trinidad is always shadowed by the mountains. Watching the shadows of clouds playing on the mountain sides is always a picture I'll keep in my mind.
The east coast feels dusky as well, except instead of dry, the trees to me feel more foresty, older somehow, and more mysterious. There's a sense of age on the east coast California doesn't have for me (ahh, my strip malls, heh), and the houses of brick and wood, sometimes run down, are too much out of a book to feel entirely real. Princeton for me is stone buildings and Gothic architecture, cold and wet. Although sometimes I remember the fall days when the sky is bright blue and the trees in front of McCormick have turned a brilliant orange, and the contrast is stunning and the air smells of that ineffable scent of autumn. Princeton is also small stores that have been there for ages, upscale, with little nooks and crannies, wool coats and boots, while California is bright colors, sun, sun, sun, a big bowl of sky above me and the feeling of wanting to lie down outside for forever.
But they still feel similar when compared to Taiwan. I miss Taiwan still. Sometime in my nine years there I forgot that I was first used to the pine trees and Rocky Mountains of Ft. Collins, and I grew accustomed to the almost technicolor greens of the mountains there, mountains that are rounded and which loom everywhere. I remember standing on the fourth floor outside the classroom and looking at the blues and purples of them after the rain. I miss the feeling of plants growing wild, despite the lack of lawns, the look of shrubs and weeds and who knows what else poking through the earth. I miss waxy green leaves tinged with yellow and that bright spring green I can't find here. I miss the mountains. Sometimes I even miss the humidity, even when I love the dry heat here. The weather there -- air so laden with water that everything would be slightly damp, then a sudden darkening of sky and a downpour of rain, warm raindrops so large you could feel them burst like water balloons. Then, five minutes later, the sun would come out, and it would all be over. I miss the howling winds that would rattle the windows while I sat warm inside, the chill that comes from concrete houses and no heaters, tile everywhere. I miss the concrete jungle of the cities.
Hong Kong is a little like that, but I love Hong Kong for itself. It has the verdant greens and the mountains and the island climate of Taiwan, but it's completely different because of the buildings, which spiral up out of the ground, narrow and tall and spindly. Yet they burst out of the mountains of Hong Kong in clusters and are a surprise to the eye, metallic growths in the middle of the jungle. Everything there is so tall and narrow that it made Taiwan feel spacious.
China and Japan are different, I think because they aren't subtropical islands. They don't feel quite as normal to me... China is too large, too many open areas, and too new. The metropolises there are just beginning. Although Shanghai's mix of European turn of the century buildings and concrete architecture is surprising and strangely foreign. I don't remember much of Japan's greenery -- I guess I didn't see that much of it in Kanazawa. Japan is always characterized in my mind with the stores and the shops and the urbanness of it.
Sigh. I miss Taiwan, even though I love California. I think I never quite felt at home on the east coast because of the cold.
(no subject)
Mon, Oct. 20th, 2003 05:05 am (UTC)I've only seen northern and southern California regularly, with brief trips to NYC, Seattle, Hawaii, southern coastal Spain, and Stockholm and the surrounding area, but I know what you mean about each place having its own scenic feel, some better than others. I'm adoring the comfort I feel being back in northern California, just because the scenery feels like home, in a way that even the beautiful streets of Stockholm, the decadent beaches of southern California, and the lush wonder of Hawaii couldn't ever match.
And aren't those muted ground tones strange? I was driving through northern Marin a few days ago, and the grass was all brown, the trees grey-green, and the cows black and white, while the sky was this perfect paintbox blue, and it looked like an old sepia-toned photograph where someone had colorized the sky.
.m
(no subject)
Mon, Oct. 20th, 2003 05:15 am (UTC)Love the idea of California as an old photograph! It's perfect. I remember visiting here for the first time in winter and being surprised by the greenery on the hills.
I love traveling, although I hate the homesick feeling. I guess more than traveling (which means airplanes and living out of suitcases to me, ugh), I love living in a place, settling down and learning its rhythms and nooks, finding my own little favorite places. I haven't even moved that much, but enough to make me hate moving. It's odd why some places feel like home -- California does because I've spent so many years of vacations here with my family. Princeton never quite did. The Rocky Mountains still can, so that visiting Canada isn't quite as foreign as it should be when I'm in the mountains. But I think, thanks to Taiwan, I will always miss living in that spot right between the mountains and the sea.
Northern California
Mon, Oct. 20th, 2003 09:46 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Mon, Oct. 20th, 2003 12:54 pm (UTC){{Hugs}}
I feel so weird because the places I've actually felt most at home are places like Reykjavik... but, I can understand.
They're predicting possibly snow for Thursday here BTW.
LOL... warmer climes are looking pretty goo right about now.
(no subject)
Wed, Oct. 22nd, 2003 03:11 am (UTC)I will be sitting here gladly enjoying my sunshine hopefully thinking of NJ when it snows ;). And probably not missing it at all!
Re: drawings... incentive to get my fax machine hooked up!
(no subject)
Wed, Oct. 22nd, 2003 03:29 am (UTC)The explanation of home feeling in Reykjavik will wait on the morrow also? I'm pretty tired right now, and not the clearest even when awake :grin:
(no subject)
Wed, Oct. 22nd, 2003 04:57 am (UTC)And no worries, take care! (also may be slow to respond, as am stealing boy's computer time)
(no subject)
Thu, Oct. 23rd, 2003 04:46 pm (UTC)To Reykjavik. I was surprised to find that my attitudes on politics, religion, relationships, and other things were more closely in line with the people I met in Iceland than those I knew from home. I lived in several different places with friends in Louisiana, Texas, Florida, Ohio, New York and other points NE, so it's something general not just my area of the country.
Then, occasionally I will have a really strong deja vue feeling which both Montreal and Reykjavik gave me.
Thirdly, the people and the clothes and the light and the country were just visually so amazing (this is probably a sensitivty frrom the drawing part of me I'm sure.)
(no subject)
Sun, Nov. 2nd, 2003 03:29 am (UTC)It's funny... I did a report on Iceland in third grade, and now you are reawakening an interest in the country ;).
(no subject)
Mon, Oct. 20th, 2003 04:32 pm (UTC)My parents have visited me from NY every summer since I moved out here (I'm in central WA). While they're here, I'm all "get out of my space! Gah! Don't move that!" And then they leave, and I get all sniffly, because it's not that I don't want them around it's just that I don't want them living in my one-bedroom apartment, you know?
I always miss the East the most this time of year. I have little pangs for real, lasting snow in the winter, and for warm muggy nights in the summer, but the only time I get really homesick for my own landscape is when I miss the colors and the smell in the fall.
(no subject)
Wed, Oct. 22nd, 2003 03:15 am (UTC)*nods* I get that, except from the opposite side... no matter how nice fall was back in NJ, I missed sunshine desperately.