I love Wyoming; I love the dry weather in and the rocky, rocky mountains. I love the fact that it is still considered frontier by the U.S. census because there are so few people per square mile. I love that I could go hiking, fishing, camping and not have to go that far to not run into anyone.
I loved South Dakota, especially the Black Hills. What an outdoor wonderland; I could go rock climbing, mountain biking, camping, hiking, see national monuments, go to Sanford’s (I miss you Sanford’s, the original in Spearfish not the copies). I miss Sioux Falls, I don’t think I have ever lived in such a well taken care of city with friendlier people.
I loved living in Puerto Rico, what is not to love about beaches, warm weather, and great people. I learned how to kiss people hello, point with my lips, and eat plantains in various ways. I can fully admit that while I loved Puerto Rico and Sioux Falls, I never was very comfortable in those places. I am a mountain guy at heart, and those places left me surrounded by crowds and corn fields.
I love living in the Northwest, I got up this morning and went for a hike in early march. I have been known to mountain bike in December here. I have a place to do both within 2 minutes of my house. I love the fact that I am a ferry ride from downtown Seattle, and a short drive to the Olympic Mountains. I love the summers here, and the fact that I am close to salt water.
Mostly I have made some great friends, and met some great people. No matter how I felt about the geography of the places I have lived, the people I have met defy stereotypes that other put on them. Why do we like our stereotypes so much?