I Managed to Escape
In January, Maudie and I left our apartment in Brooklyn with the intent to never go back. We drove across America, and eventually we relocated to a one-bedroom apartment in a very nice little neighborhood near Lake Merrit in Oakland, CA. I’ve been meaning to process the hundreds of photos we took along the way and write about the adventure for over a month, but I couldn’t think of much more to say than, “Wow, it really is nice in California!”
Amit, one of the people I miss from New York, recently linked to his friend Sean Johnson’s post about becoming jaded in New York City. Like Amit and millions of others, I identified strongly with his sentiments. For the 17 months I lived in New York, I tried to prevent myself from disengaging. I would try to make eye contact with people on the subway, I would try to remain exhilarated by the scale of the place and by the idea that so many people can coexist. Even when these things inevitably faltered, I tried to be at least aware of the process of disengagement and the degree to which I had allowed myself to become jaded.
Maybe it would have been better to ignore it. Being consciously aware of how jaded I was only added to the effect; I found myself scowling from the inside at everything: the people, the weather, the buildings. I ended up deciding (with help) that I didn’t want to live in a place where I felt so oppressed.
Things are different in the Bay Area. Even in the most urban places, strangers don’t only make eye contact, they say hello. They are also eager to lend any help or advice they can if they overhear us being obvious newbies. The weather alone is enough to make someone smile, but the culture in this part of the country is really what makes the difference.
It’s heartening to know that we can re-engage with the world around us as quickly as we can disengage. Perhaps it takes longer for those who spend more than a year and a half in a place like New York, but I’m glad that the fundamental adaptability of people works both ways.
