Ugly

When I was younger I would often go outside for a walk. I would smell the air, taking note of the season, ignoring the month it was – it didn’t matter to me, as a kid, what month it was. My mother would take me to a place in the Hollywood mountains, the Griffith Observatory, where I would skip around on the grass and let the Sun warm my face, lay on the grass while my mother would yell at me to not dirty my jacket, listen to the pigeons purr (is it purring that they do? It sounds like it.), feel the cool breeze over the hill, and I would especially love looking over the hill into the city, getting the whole view of half of Los Angeles County. When I grew older I would wake up very early in the morning to go to school; while waiting for my school bus I would smell the cold. It was never quiet, I remember, but perhaps coming from an Armenian household, that was okay. I enjoyed the noise. The smog, too, grew on me. Coming back to Los Angeles after leaving it, it’s like chicken soup for the Los Angeleno soul.

I loved going to the beach, especially alone. I didn’t really like getting wet, I just liked the warm sand between the toes, the cool breeze through my hair, the smell of salt sea air, the sound of savage seagulls crowing (is that what they do? It sounds like it.) for the lunch of the nearby family. I could get up and go there, anytime! It was about 15 minutes away from home on a good day – which, despite the common opinion of those who despise the city, can be any day. You just have to know when to drive and what road to take.

“Candy hills and marshmallow roads”, as Katie would say.

I moved to Santa Cruz for school in January 2003. Things didn’t really change for me – the private me. The people were a little different than those in Los Angeles, but everything was, for the most part, constant – everyone I communicated with was, barring exceptional cases, polite. I would sneak out at night and drive over to my favorite spot along the cliffs near Twin Bridges. I could feel the water crash into the rocks that I was sitting on while watching the Moon light up a path from me to take along the Pacific. I would continue to look up past the Moon and see a sky completely full of stars, populated  more densely along the Milky Way (even during a full moon). The beaches in Santa Cruz smelled different than those in Los Angeles. Not better, not worse, just different. I could go out there any time I wanted!

Then the forests! Oh, the forests! The only place I knew well where the forest meets the beach, and a beautiful pair they were! I could go on endlessly about how wonderful it smelled, how vividly green it was, how quiet and beautiful things were, how even the ground was soft and BROWN! Not grayish brown dirt that’s hard, but soft, fluffy soil!

I would especially love taking road trips to San Francisco, regardless of the hour. I would love driving! I would take my car out along Highway 1 and just drive! No worry in the world. I would stop along the road occasionally to roll back my “moon roof” (I had my 4Runner then) and just watch the star-lit sky for about 10 to 15 minutes.

Then I came to Merced. I have no freedom here. There is little beauty in this town. I step out of my house, ready for school, and I smell onions. I walk down to my car and catch a whiff of manure (cows, to be specific), all in the same minute. Perhaps to some it is a wonderful thing. The only lake here is man-made, the river (or creek?) is littered with shopping carts, or dead bodies when the water-level drops a bit. The people are noticeably different – everyone is so grumpy, they do what they want, all the time, despite your existence. Whatever nature exists here gets very angry just before springtime, I managed to develop allergies in my first Spring. I’m constantly warned about going to parks – that’s it’s not safe, except for a few when it’s very brightly lit.

I feel very limited especially since there are only two directions to go from here: North to Turlock and Modesto where little resides, or South to Fresno where even more ugly roams the streets: both options an hour away with nothing in between, both options asleep at 10pm. San Francisco is too far away for a simple drive, Yosemite is a bit expensive if you don’t go there regularly. Perhaps a better feeling is trapped. I have been here for two and a half years and am dying to get out, perhaps more figuratively, not yet literally. I want a beach, I want some scenery, I want a breath of fresh air!

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