Head North for Summer

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#headnorthforsummer was an idea created because I was visiting the places that I used to live in, in the north. Somehow, I thought people would think that I was going north because of this Instagram project I happen to come up with. I'm not that spontaneous and adventurous. Anyway, if you were wondering, it was the former that prompted this mini-Instagram project. 



 C H A P T E R  O N E 
VERMONT

 On September 5, 2014, my mom and I will have been in the US for ten years. Vermont was the very first place we'd lived in this country. As a nine-year old, the Green Mountain State was one of the greatest culture shocks I had ever experienced. The weather was the complete opposite to my tropical Philippines, almost everyone was white, they all spoke English, among many many other differences. We moved away in 2005, visited in 2008, and again this year, 2014. Like the first time I'd arrived to the state, Vermont again was a giant culture shock for me. 
I've lived in the South for nine years; from Virginia, to Mississippi, to Georgia, these states offered incredibly different cultures–especially the latter two. Although, I knew a little bit about Vermont, I did not realize how much I had completely forgotten about it over the years I'd been away. 
Without getting into a social and political discussion, I'd just like to comment that Subaru is Vermont's state car. I have never seen so many of these All-Wheel Drives in one place (or maybe I have, when I used to live there, I just didn't realize it). I only know one person who has a Subaru here in Georgia, and that one is the only one I see being driven around. Anyway, why is that a culture shock? In the same way a northerner would be completely taken aback by the amount of pickup trucks are driven here in the South, the amount of Subarus is just overwhelming for someone who rarely ever sees one in the regular basis. The car a person drives reveals so much about their social personality (at least it should), and gives a little hint about the place they live in (like All-Wheel Drives are practical and necessary for the long, heavy winters in Vermont).
Another difference I have noted in Vermont are the mountains. The glorious, green mountains. I cannot get over their beauty and largeness, and awesomeness, and I'm just running out of adjectives that I know in my head. Point is, you have to see them. Early in the morning, when the clouds are low on the horizon, and their wispy claws glide over the dusky trees, you can just feel a little bit of a haunting atmosphere. But not haunting like spooky, but like mysterious and mystical. You see what seems to be all of the world in front of you, and you feel like flying. Over the trees, the rivers, the quaint little villages, farms, and the rest of the world. When you're on a high bluff, looking down a valley where a river snakes in the midst of it, or a pond rests in the valley's cradle, and the mystical fog hangs slightly above the still, smooth water, you begin to think about all of eternity. Of the universe, the cosmos, of God, of everything. All because of a foggy, overcast morning when the sun has not yet woken up. 
Or during Golden Hour, when the sun struggles to stay above the horizon, and in desperation, it radiates golden light as if to plead the beholder that it should never have to leave and let the night take over. As if you could do something about it. And in these last moments of daylight, the mountains reflect the soft golden hues of the trees. Reminiscent to that of a Tomb Raider or Indiana Jones movie, the world seems to reveal a glory and beauty that can only be witnessed during this hour and with a certain perspective. Driving in the winding mountain roads, over deep gorges, tall cliffs, and iridescent rivers, I could not keep my eyes on the road. The long shadows created by the trees,  these tears of the sun, reach at you as if to pull you in. Again, not in a horrific sense, but in a sense that nature wants to engulf you in its fleeting last light. But it doesn't. Because you're driving swiftly down the mountain road, floating in the golden atmosphere, and staring at infinity. Seriously, drive on a high mountain road and look at the golden valley below you. Infinity.
That's the haunting I'm talking about. I have never felt such mystery over nature here in the South (mostly because I haven't taken the time to); or at least, I have not yet found a place down here to purge such emotions out of me. This is perhaps why I make such a heavy point about the mountains–and all of nature–in Vermont. 
Another thing, and I have to mention this. This is not only true in Vermont, but perhaps all of the North. I know everyone who's South-based and goes North has complained about this. I'm not going to act as if I'm not the only who has noticed this. It's the very fact that everyone complains about this that I make mention of this. You can't not be a Southern person and not notice it. So what is it?

No Sweet Tea.

I mostly drink water, but when I'm out and about, I love the occasional sweetness of this apparent Southern specialty. I honestly,did not know what to say in the restaurants when they asked for my drinks. Yes, I ended up getting water (with lemons, mind you), but it was unnatural not to have the basic human choice of sweetened iced tea. Oh, and yeah, I asked for that one time. Sweet iced tea. Never again. Not only was it culture shock for me to not have sweet tea, but it was also culture shock for them to be asked for sweet tea. 
This is where I'll end my discussion over culture-shock. Because I can't go any further without digging up some controversial social and political discussion, it's best that I end it here. I've perhaps said too much (wink). Anyway, in conclusion–as if in high school–Vermont is incredibly beautiful. That's an understatement. If you go there during winter, drive a Subaru, it helps that you fit in, I guess. Oh, and if you're from the South, sorry about your tea. Drink soda or something. Yuck. 

 C H A P T E R  T W O 
FAMILY
(coming soon)