Learning how to hear silence

I started reading Yoga for People Who Can't Be Bothered to Do It by Geoff Dyer right after arriving in Saratoga on June 12. He writes of a bar in Rome and says that while many restaurants and resorts brag about their exclusive status, the best places in the world are far from exclusive. It's so appealing to him because of the people in it, filled with everyone from drug addicts to models. His writing always covers many different places, focuses on himself and usually one other thread. This book, for example, has to do with the women that he meets in exotic places and the most memorable aspects of the culture.

Not that my experience in Wyoming has been exactly like this bar in Rome, but coming here I understand what he means. So far, I haven't met anyone who hasn't been happy to know that I've come into town for whatever reasons I've come here. This attitude draws people to new places because in towns like this, you can find a small dose of everyone and everything. Although each person is different, I've noticed that most people I've met have the toughness of the kind of person who would decide to live in Wyoming, the kind of people that opt for a way of life that isn't the same as most Americans. I drove across the country all by myself. Most of my friends back home thought it was a little crazy, but I couldn't wait to learn about a new place.

Since I majored in nonfiction writing at the University of Pittsburgh, I have read an awful lot of travel writing and profiles of places. When my family calls to ask how I'm liking it so far, I find that I want to talk about people and interactions, the sort of population making up a place. Most of the writers that I look up to profile people and buildings. Wyoming doesn't seem to be about people so far, though I have met plenty of wonderful characters. I tell my family that I don't exactly have a word for it yet, but nothing seems empty. The quiet makes up the places here; the lack of people and buildings gives me a clearer idea of exactly how many things there are to do. I'm learning how to know a place without seeing another person walk by. Everything I do here makes me more aware of my individualism and who I am when the trends of Pittsburgh have fallen away. I'll always love my city, but I'm learning to love other places too. I'm young yet, but I have learned that if you think you're too good for a place, that probably means you're not good enough for it.

When Dyer talks about the beauty of places that are available to all, I think of open air and the high-up, blue mountain sky in Wyoming, the sun that anyone can feel.