The Ambivert and Atlanta: 6 Months In

Why am I writing this?

Last year this was the question I began my assessment of Columbia with and I thought I'd follow a similar formula in discussing Atlanta. I'm in between writings, I'm not quite ready to start a new short script, I finished a writing a recent short I'm showing to the producers of my latest short which is now in post-production.

So let's talk about Atlanta. I'm hitting 6 months of living in Atlanta and I've reached the point living here where I'm no longer in my honeymoon phase.

This current state of residence in Atlanta coincides with a bout of recurring nostalgia for two cities important in my past that has led me to dig deeper in my feelings for Atlanta: Columbia and Athens.

Nostalgia for Columbia came a little more unexpected but I've shared quite a number of moments of nostalgia when I found colleagues who were USC alumni and who loved Columbia...and would rather go back. That...I'm not at that point. I do miss small things, things I unraveled when I let myself go and enjoyed myself in Soda City. Once I found the restaurants that covered my tastes and found a routine I was free to enjoy the small things in Cola (if anything I miss Lamb's Bread Vegan Soul Food).

Besides Columbia I also found myself nostalgic with Athens for the first time a couple of weeks ago. Due to a falling out with a couple of acquaintances in Athens I had a falling out with Athens as well. Athens and I have always maintained a fragile, complicated relationship. It was the definitive left of center social scene for my friends when we lived in North Georgia. It was a special weekend for my friends and me to go to Athens, go to record shops and eat at Mama's Boy. I haven't (yet) found the places in Atlanta where I can have the same relationships I have with the 40 Watt Club or the Athens Cine which remains the greatest movie cinema as far as I'm concerned. That being said, I feel like I was always judged in Athens. At first it was because I was a GSC student and thus in “13^th grade” (this was pre-recession and before community colleges were cool...if they are). Maybe I'm narrow minded, but there's a sense of entitlement that permeates Athens. Athens is more complicated than this simple assessment but it's something I'll share because I've met people who have felt the same. Any Georgia State student or alumnus will state similar feelings. I feel like there's an Athens club and I could never be a member.

That's what always drew me to Atlanta: not only its forestry but how inclusive it has usually been. I never felt judged in Atlanta. Atlanta was the spot on the map I always wanted to be at. I left a possible job in Columbia because I wanted to try and get a job in Atlantaland. I succeeded. I'm now an Atlanta resident.

So now what? How much has Atlanta lived up to my expectations?

…

I'm going to dive into my experience with Atlanta like I did for Columbia last year by sharing strains of thoughts on my life in Atlanta.

"Ooh...Inman Perk."

"The Beltline is great. Dogs are great. I miss my dog. Can I pet your dog?" 

"It's a shame the Masquerade is closing. They're assholes though. My favorite bands played there. I don't know what to feel."

"Ponce City Market...why?"

"This Krog Street Market is fantastic."

"This Fred's Meat & Bread burger is the best burger ever."

"Memorial Drive will kill my car."

"Will I die if I move to East Atlanta?"

"East Atlanta is great. Midway Pub is great. Joe's is great. Elder Tree is great." 

"Is Argosy supposed to be in this neighborhood?"

"Hodge Podge...Oh Honey...oh yes."

"It smells like fried food. It smells like weed. It smells like donuts."

"Why are there no chips and salsa mom and pop Mexican restaurants? Why are tacos $3.5?"

"I found my place. I found El Mexicano. I found love. I can sleep at night."

"DeKalb needs to get its shit together."

"Sharon Barnes-Sutton...maybe a psychopath."

"We almost won at the Local!"

"I always go to Publix. Kroger isn't good."

"Oh Kroger was really nice this week."

"These sweet potatoes are rotten! Screw you Kroger!"

"Who's racing on I-20?"

"No, I will not go to Marietta for this date."

"Why do people love the Plaza?"

"I miss the quiet."

...

I miss the quiet? Yes, I miss the quiet. 

Is that a bad thing? Is it a bad thing to enjoy a slower pace? Can't I #yolo in a movie theater or reading Lab Girl at Joe's or Hodge Podge?

But how badly do I miss the quiet? That's the question. I do relish walking to a pub like Elder Tree or Midway and watching a hockey game. I do relish trivia at The Local with my friends. I can't do that in Habersham. I can't see the punk shows I enjoy in rural Georgia...unless I'm the one performing and it's in my friend's basement.

That's the core issue of an ambivert: when can I have quiet when it's loud, and when I can have friends and loudness when it's too quiet? 

That's been my justification for Atlanta. It's not a balls to the wall city a la Chicago, NYC, etc. It's still a city. In fact it's a fairly consequential city. We're THE Southern hub. Yet it's green. It has the largest tree canopy of any major U.S. city. When I would walk the Beltline during my crash on my friend's couch month it stunned me at how with one view I have the Midtown skyline--one of my favorite city skylines--and turning around I just see craftsman houses and trees and Freedom Park.  The best parts of Atlanta are genuine, holistic neighborhoods that could be found in a small town, my small town.

So what's there to argue about?

...

In any relationship--friendships, romantic, etc--there are always recurring arguments. These arguments result from fundamental differences--differences that are ultimately misdemeanors but ones that irk another until a flare-up. Every relationship has these differences and they're misdemeanors until they became felonies (and cause relationships to end) or they remain misdemeanors (and the relationship passes it off).

Atlanta and I don't have any felonies between us. It's a large enough city to where I can find my crowd and stay. There are misdemeanors. Why do I miss the quiet? Because I miss wider landscapes. I miss room to roam...privately. I miss my space. Let's be honest, though: there's no city that will reward that desire.

Memorial Drive is a misdemeanor. Driving on Memorial Drive will kill my car. It kills my soul. Driving in Atlanta kills one's soul. It's the opposite effect of nature, which heals. Traffic and driving in Atlanta severs proverbial arms and causes deep proverbial wounds. I say proverbial, though technically an auto collision can make the proverbial a reality.

There's no way around the changes in Atlanta. Since I started exploring Atlanta the changes keep coming and coming. Some of the changes are wonderful. The Beltline...there's no city that has a Beltline and it is truly remarkable. If a city or a place wants to improve it's viability to everyone and be inclusive parks and green space are never not going to be the best option.

It's hard to put into words what I miss. I want to be at the restaurants where there are families, where people are there with no reason except they're hungry or they want to hang out. There's no pretension in a place like El Patron, a restaurant in my home community. Is it the best food? No. Is it tasty? I think so. There was something revelatory in going there and see kids celebrate birthdays, friends hanging out, people catching beer after work. For a lot of people this seems boring but I find it transcendent.

I've reached a point to where I find $100 jean shops and restaurants that hinge on buzzwords such as "artisan-crafted," "mixed-use," and so forth as sterile. I don't want that.

...

Thankfully I've found the places that offer such an experience. East Atlanta, which I was terrified of, has been a revelation. It turned out to be a great neighborhood for me. Sure, there are man-buns abound at places like Argosy (which I actually like) but I love walking to Joe's East Atlanta Coffee, Grant Central Pizza, Elder Tree, the 529, and The Earl, or lightly driving to El Mexicano or Hodge Podge.

East Atlanta is also a prime location. I'm centrally located to places like Inman Park which I love walking around, and Krog Street Market, with Fred's Meat & Bread, Yalla, and Grand Championship BBQ offering the best food in gentrified Atlantaland. I'm prime to be in Ponce for the Drunken Unicorn and The Local's Wednesday night trivia with my friends. I'm prime for Decatur, home of my death row meal restaurant Community Q, and the wonderful (and pedestrian friendly) square with Little Shop of Stories, Brick Store Pub, Iberian Pig, Leon's Full Service, and so forth.

Part of reckoning with a city is finding where you want to be. If you can't find anything, then the city isn't for you. Before moving I had enough flings with Atlanta to know that I would have my spots. After 6 months I'm less dour than I was after 1 1/2 months of Columbia.

What I Look For in the Places I Travel To

The long wait of traveling long distance is over!

It has been 14 months--1 year and 2 months--since I last traveled somewhere long and far away from Atlanta. Initially I had no trips planned aside from Austria in August, which would've been nearly 1.5 years. I got itchy.

The great thing about my job is that I alternate between 6 day weeks and 4 day weeks. During these 4 day weeks I have 3 day weekends...and that is prime travel time. Ever since my sojourn into San Francisco I wanted another weekend out west. Wouldn't you know it but Delta had $200 round-trip tickets to Denver and I immediately grabbed those.

In this week's preparation for my Colorado trip I've had to consider what I value out of a destination. What do I always want to check out in a place I visit? I thought I'd extend this thought into a post.

Here are a few things I always look for and always aim to add to my itinerary.

...

Food

Of course. Of course I want food. It's the number one element I look for in any new destination. I want to get a fork and eat my way through a place. In particular when I visit an urban place the first thought I have will be "Where can I eat?"

It's not enough to just want food, though. It's also a piece of a destination's identity. The choices I make in where I want to eat is how I get acquainted with a place. What do locals eat? What type of food is this place known for?

Thus I look for things like markets where I can find locals getting the best food. Or I'll research a place's culinary identifiers. I'll dwell on these identifiers. When I was in Quebec it wasn't enough to eat poutine (which I ate twice) but to look into the regional cuisine, largely rooted in French and largely using game meat like bison or deer. When I was in Chile I knew seafood was a large part of their cuisine. I went to Mercado Central and wafted the blissfully pungent smell of seafood and freshly caught fish before discovering my favorite South American dish: paila marina.

When I go to Denver it's not enough to just go to the highest ranking Yelp restaurant. I want something I can't find in Atlanta. A hip sushi place? Big whoop. A hot dog place where the hot dogs are made out of pheasant and rattlesnake? Oh...oh yes.

Some people are flippant about food options in their travels. Food isn't important to them. I don't trust people like that. I don't trust people who don't like food. They probably don't like life or sex either.

...

Green Space/Natural Scenery

I've embraced the rural Appalachia that marks my identity. I grew up in a quiet place and I've grown to love it. There's a pace that nature offers that eases anxiety and restores health.

It's easy to get spoiled by nature when it swarms you. I grew up playing in forests and I never not want to do that. The way that people fall head over heels for the noise of talking people, traffic, the business of cities--which I understand--is the way I fall threadbare to staggering natural scenery.

When looking at destinations I consider how near I will be or how I can get to nature. Choosing San Francisco as a weekend destination fit my expectations because I was so near Muir Woods and Point Reyes. I rented a car purposefully to see these places early in the morning devoid of people. It was worth the frustration of renting a car and driving in a tight and compact San Francisco.

Access to national park and state parks isn't necessarily essential, but it helps. It helps if I can go to a place that has access to beautiful parks. I have to find great parks. I have to find the lakefront parks in Chicago, the greenery of Mendoza that stands in contrast to the desert that surrounds the city, or the Potomac River straddling D.C.

,,,

Live Events

I have to experience a live event--a sports game, a rock show, a reading, a performing arts production, or anything that requires an audience. As with food, finding the right live event is a way to live a local's life. It's a way to find the heart of a place. When I was in Montreal it was definitely a goal (no pun intended) to see a Montreal Canadiens game, because even if I didn't have a long term relationship with their hockey team being in that arena was bearing witness to the motherland of my favorite sport. It was my way to seeing what Canada is like, by seeing the reactions of a sold out (on a Tuesday) arena chanting "Go Habs Go." Likewise in a technology soaked city like San Francisco I found transcendence in a low-key, $5 cover charge dive bar. The band was playing standard Stevie Ray Vaughan blues while older, former hippies danced with younger San Fran crowds wanting to check out what the Yelp or TripAdvisor reviews.

Even in countries where I don't know the native language, it's fun to find an event where I can involve myself in a language that's not written or verbal. In Santiago I realized how wonderful dance was by seeing a dance performance that had no Spanish, just dancers speaking their language in choreography and movement.
...

And Art Museums

I don't know why I have to see an art museum. I certainly love art. I certainly don't find enough satisfaction in seeing a high definition photo of an art piece. To borrow from Good Will Hunting I want to smell art. I want to have a relationship that I can only have in an art museum. For me a great place will have an art museum. It's the sign of how healthy a place is. An art museum will tell the story of a city. Take Atlanta, where I live. Of course the High Museum of Art has works by the Masters. Of course it has a Picasso. That's not what makes the museum golden, however. The High's best pieces are its self-made and folk art, a celebration of largely Southern and regional artists who labored over pieces using whatever medium they could get without any substantial art training. The High also had African masks and a large collection of African and African-American art because of how this culture defines Atlanta. That's not what will be found in a museum in Quebec, which celebrates its French ancestry and which celebrates the unique diversity of Canada.