What I’d do With a Weekend in Northern California—A Love Letter to Home
It’s mid-October right now. The temperatures might drop to the 60s during the day if you’re lucky, but there’s surely still a few scorching days left for those in NorCal. In the high Sierras, mountain tops are receiving their first snowfall, and in the valleys below, trees are turning brilliant shades of orange and yellow before they drop their leaves. Pumpkin patches, corn mazes, and apple orchards are being swarmed before all the attention moves on to Christmas tree farms.
I’ve spent a lot of my life since high school dreaming of leaving California. Born and raised in a town not too far from Sacramento, never having even moved houses in all my life, I was ready for a change. But then I came to Berkeley, and it wasn’t a huge move geographically, but it was like a completely different world to the one I grew up in. And that felt like enough of a change for me, and I didn’t think too hard about leaving anymore. But then along came the opportunity to call a new place home for a few months, and I jumped at it. So right now an ocean, 7 hours, and 4,000 miles separate me from California. As I study in cold, dark, Northern Europe, I can’t help but miss all the familiarities of home even as I celebrate new traditions abroad. I’m so incredibly grateful for the experience, yet I’m also eager to see family, friends, pets, and landscapes from home. It’s a bittersweet feeling.
I’m not home right now, but if I were, I know what I’d be doing.
In all likelihood, at this moment I might be complaining about a midterm, or dreading a physics problem set. I’d probably be on the third floor of McCone Hall with friends—because I promised them that this time I would certainly be quiet and study, but we’d end up gossiping and cracking jokes instead. After class, I’d walk to the cafe across the street where the owner knows my name, and I’d get the same drink I always do. I’d go to a club meeting and afterwards walk home with a friend. I’d bake some sort of sweet treat and watch an animated movie with my roommate. It’d all be pretty mundane, but it would be perfect.
When the weekend rolled around, there’d be a million different things that I could do. I could go for a hike, a nice drive, and finish up by watching the sunset over the bay. Or maybe I’d go to San Francisco and spend the day with my brother walking around the park, having tea in Chinatown, and ending with a home-cooked meal at his apartment. Maybe I’d go camping; I could go up to Humboldt County to see the redwoods, or I could finally go to Lassen National Park like I’ve been talking about doing for years. Or maybe I’d pick the most boring option, and just stay home: I’d go for a walk downtown and have a lovely, lazy day instead.
Because sure, I miss the big things about California. But it’s all the little things that I’m looking forward to when I get back. I can’t wait to see the Golden Gate Bridge on my walk to class everyday. I’m excited to peek into the Campanile and bother my coworkers who are on shift inside. I’m eager for weekend hikes and camping trips with friends. I’m already thinking about the mass amounts of Thai food and Chipotle I’ll be eating upon my return. I can’t wait to hug my best friend.
If I were at home right now, I’d take my dog and drive up into the mountains to see the fall colors. I’d go to my favorite place on Earth, and we’d sit by the river, and I’d eat a sandwich and she would get lots of treats. I’d go up to Apple Hill with my friends, and we’d get chili cheese fries and caramel apples and gallon jugs of apple cider to bring home. We’d go to a coffee shop and get ridiculously overpriced, seasonally flavored lattes, and it would be a perfect day.
But there’s coffee where I am now, and there’s beautiful mountains here too. At the moment, my weekends consist of road trips to see glaciers and volcanoes, waterfalls and hot springs. I stay up at night to look at the northern lights. Everything is exactly as I thought it would be, and it’s perfect here too. Where I am now may only be my home for a short while, but I try to make the most of each day I have here. I know that California is waiting for me, and that the mountains aren’t going to change while I’m gone. I know that my friends will still be my friends, that my same professors will be teaching the same classes. And I know that in a few short months, I’ll be lamenting my time abroad to my friends, on that familiar third floor of McCone Hall.