Going to school in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, I've always felt that I have been surrounded by nature lovers and avid hunters. People count down to deer season like it's Christmas and eagerly await the day when most of the ice in Lake Superior is melted so that they can go cliff jumping. Hiking Sugarloaf Mountain in every season seems to be a rite of passage for those who live in and around Marquette. The serene beauty and majesty of Michigan's Upper Peninsula has brought people here for decades, and has kept them here for generations. The only problem? I'm not one of them.
Growing up in the Chicago metropolitan area, I always looked forward to leaving behind for a few weeks the life I knew and visiting my grandparents in the Upper Peninsula. Their house was spacious and unchanging - something a child who moved every two years could really look forward to. I dreamed about moving there myself, in an isolated community, far from the noise and the crowds.
At the beginning of my junior year of high school, I turned to Google and innocently typed in the search bar "colleges in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan." The first thing to come up was Northern Michigan University in Marquette, Michigan. In March 2010, my mother and I made the eight-hour drive to visit the campus, and by August 2011, I was a freshman at the university. But from the very beginning, something seemed a little off.
When I attended freshmen orientation the summer before classes started, I found it difficult to sleep at night due to the silence in the dorms. I understood that the residence hall I was in wasn't nearly as full as it would be come August, but I still expected a little noise. In the morning, I was awoken by the sharp screeching of seagulls, something my Marquette-born roommate slept through. I assured myself that things would be different in the fall, and if for some reason things remained as silent as a cemetery, I would make the best of the situation.
The first "Oh dear God, what have I done!" moment came from a rather unexpected place. I slowly started panicking over the lack of buildings on campus and throughout the city - that is, buildings over four stories. I had never given much thought to the superstructures that had surrounded me for the first 19 years of my life, but without them, I suddenly felt vulnerable. Gone were the skyscrapers and shopping malls, all that encompassed me now were trees.
My youthful dreams of isolation were shattered when I learned that fewer neighbors does not mean less contact with other humans. Rather, it often has an adverse effect. The few neighbors that you have seem to forget that there are boundaries, nonchalantly walking into your house while you innocently eat your breakfast cereal. Strangers constantly wave, smile, and greet you with a friendly hello. I was not prepared for such jubilant salutations to bombard me on a daily basis.
The biggest thing that I thought would bother me about moving to the Upper Peninsula, the snow and seemingly never-ending winter, has surprisingly had little effect. Snow that reaches your knees, temperatures that fall far below zero, and thick layers of ice under your feet every time you walk out your door? No problem! There're good winter boots, parkas, and doctors for the inevitable concussion you'll get after knocking your head on the ice for the fourth time. Frigid temperatures certainly aren't for everyone, but I found it to be the easiest part of Yooper life to conquer.
I will never be one of those people with a tattoo of the Upper Peninsula's outline or of the city of Marquette's coordinates. While others cry over the overwhelming allure of the trees, lakes, and mountains that have surrounded me for the past four years, the most that I can muster is an indifferent "meh." I don't understand the urge to return to nature, and often I feel like the only person living in the UP who isn't in love and slightly obsessed with the peninsula that we call home. My overall disinterest is met with scornful replies of "Oh, you just have to give it more time, you'll learn to love it here." While I can't say that I'll ever love the Upper Peninsula, I am sure that I'll miss the experiences that I had here when I leave. Living in northern Michigan was something new that just didn't fit who I was, and continue to be, as a person. I know that I'll look back on my time here with fondness, while wondering if I will ever again have the need to own so much flannel.
