Land and Personality?

[Svrtnsse]

I've spent most of the day being driven around the West Cork countryside. The landscape here is absolutely stunning, but it's alien to me. Here, enormous hills rise out of the land, right next to the ocean, and narrow countryside roads snake along the hillsides.
I can't help but wonder, how does this affect the people who are born and grow up here?
Where I grew up the forests grew deep, the dirt lay black and wet in the ground, and the hills rolled low and gentle. It was a very different land, but it was home.
Does the landscape in which we grow up affect who we are, and how? How do you think it affected you?

(cutting it brief as I'm posting from my phone)

 

[Waz]

I think it does. I feel lost, bored, and slightly saddened when in a completely flat area because I grew up around forested hills. A lot of it has to do with what reminds me of home and comfort. An ocean view is nice, but I'd rather have hills or mountains long-term as the view from my home. As for flat lands like in the Great Plains - no thank you. Give me some natural points of reference.

 

[TheCatholicCrow]

I was just discussing this with one of my sisters the other day. We were on a Hunger Games marathon and decided that we'd take District 4 and find comfort in the sound of the Ocean. We've never been in an actual forested area and agreed it'd be completely out of our comfort zone.

We grew up in a chaparral valley but were just a drive away from the white sandy beaches in San Diego or the snow-capped mountains (in the opposite direction). One of my (other) sisters now lives in Texas and says she misses the palm trees, the (dead) hills and even the tumbleweeds. She misses the flip-flops too (apparently bugs are the reason boots are so prominent).

As Californians we're laid back people. We recycle and argue there aren't enough bike lanes or city buses. We know what direction we're going or how close we are to home based on how large Big Bear appears in the distance. Down by San Diego the trees are taller and fuller, the air is cooler and a little more humid. Back home the land is large and open and 9 months out of the year looks dead and uninhabitable. Then we get a little rain and its gorgeous and we wonder why we don't live somewhere greener like Ireland or New Zealand but we soon forget about it and fall back into our routine.

Flat-land- no thank you ... I second that!

I lived in San Diego for several years and though I adored it, it took me awhile to get used to the humidity. Oddly enough I missed the dry heat. Since I moved back inland I can only think of getting back to the coast. (What can I say? I'm fickle and their both "home" to me.)

 

[Caged Maiden]

The hardest part of moving to Albuquerque was that it looked foreign, no matter how long i lived there. Water was scarce, the sun was hot and out every day, the wind was fierce, and everything was dusty. I grew up in Southeast Wisconsin, basically a wetland right off Lake Michigan. I was 60 miles north of Chicago and 20 south of Milwaukee. An industrial place, where Victorian neighborhoods blend into turn of the century factories and monuments. I mean...can it get any further from Albuquerque, with its 400-year-old Old Town with adobe bricks and narrow streets? The sprawling brownness of stucco in earth tones. Flat roofs that would leak like mad in the Midwest. The end of town n the north side, where the reservation begins and the only thing you can see on the vast plain of gold-brown is a single casino in the foreground of the Sandia Mountains. Very different from where I grew up. As different as two places can be, I reckon. I missed the water, and the green, and the trees, and flowers, and vegetables in my garden. I missed normal weather, winters with snow, clouds, and mud. However, there are things about Albuquerque I miss now that I'm gone. The sun...I used to pull weeds in my garden in January, in a Tshirt so I could get some vitaminD. There aren't any bugs...unless you count roaches, which I certainly don't miss. I mean, to have cockroaches in the Midwest, you either need to live in a pretty warm and wet place (like when we lived in Missouri) or you need to be filthy-freaking-nasty. In ABQ, they're just there. All over. In numbers so big you can hear them moving in the river pebbles in your front yard where grass ought to go if you live in a place where it rains.

I certainly think you form a sense of "normal" when you're young. I mean, my kids couldn't ever run barefoot because of scorching rocks/ pavement, prickers from cacti, goat heads, and everything else that grows in the desert and defends itself with thorns. We had water restrictions, so our gardens were meager and contained mostly native plants like salvia (few veggies made it to harvest). They never had to bundle up for winter. I mean it got cold, but only in the mornings. In the afternoon it was warm and the sun shined like 330 days a year.

I just can't imagine not being a barefoot kid. I used to live in our swimming pool. Who would want a swimming pool in the desert? The worst part of it (because I know it sounds awesome, the mild weather) is that ABQ has the same frost schedule as Wisconsin (growing zone is the same number), and if you have say, a fruit tree or squash planted, or say a pool...everything within like two square miles wants a piece of it. The rabbits and usual pests like up north, but also the quail, the roaches, the beetles...OMG how many beetles did we have? Anyways, if your yard is the only neighborhood garden, it just became yesterday's all-you-can-eat salad buffet for every critter that can fly, crawl, or wiggle its way over. Nasty. Locusts. We had a locust plague last year. I've seen it in Missouri, the thousands of grasshoppers thing, but there, there's plenty of food. It's a slightly different event in a brown town with only sagebrush and thistles around. Oh, and cottonwoods.

Nothing rots in the desert. Dog poop becomes rock or sand, depending on whether it was deposited in the sun or shade. I had a mulberry tree in my yard, so I had a huge amount of shade that actually kept my yard rather moist...which meant bugs liked to live there.

When I moved to Ohio last fall, I was reminded about mosquitoes. We had those in ABQ too, because of the river and whatnot. BUt seriously. I'm from WI...a huge marsh. I mean, up there, it's just a fact of life. Lots of bugs. I remember camping as a kid (fellow campers in New Mexico just can't relate to this tale) and we got eaten up the first night. So my dad bought mosquito repelling tiki torches for the second night. But they were bright, so they kept mosquitoes away but attracted like everything else. We were swarmed with bugs. They were in the tent, on us, on our food. I remember biting a hot dog and having to flick the bugs off it so I didn't accidentally eat one. HA! The memories we have of childhood, right?

Anyways, I totally agree that "home" is not just a feeling, but weather, land, experiences, etc. You don't realize how foreign you feel until something "normal" doesn't exist around you anymore.

 

[skip.knox]

I can think of one effect. I grew up in a place where the river flows north (Willamette River, Oregon, USA). There are two mountain ranges on either side, both of which run north-south.

So, I grew up with a really strong sense of north-south, east-west. The former follows the mountains, the latter transverses them.

Then I moved to Boise, Idaho. The mountains run ... I've lived here thirty years and I still can't say for sure. Sort of northwest-ish to southeast-ish. North is, oh, somewhere to the left of that mountain over there. Worse, the whole street grid is crooked, both with reference to the mountains and to true north-south. It almost literally offends my sense of order!

But when I talk with locals, they identify north easily, almost instinctively.

I thought of another factor. I grew up in the grey Pacific Northwest and loved it. I always thought I'd love to retire back there. But after living in Idaho for so long, I find I have grown accustomed to blue sky. I'm not sure how well I would do under the many months of grey that comprises a Portland winter.

So yeah, I do think long exposure to a particular climate or landscape does affect a person in various ways. Does it affect that person as a writer? Not so sure on that. Texas doesn't match up very well with Cimmeria, after all.

 

[BronzeOracle]

I think it can have a big impact on your life. Does it affect personality? Not sure.

I grew up on the foothills near Perth, so I remember as a small child playing among rising hills, creeks and forests. My father also loved the beach so he'd haul us off during summer to drive for over an hour to get there. So I also grew up loving the ocean, waves and rock pools - oh my god rock pools! When I have hills, forests and water nearby I feel peaceful and calm. Large wide open spaces and unobstructed sky often fill me with awe and my creativity runs free, I start imagining all sorts of wonderful things. I feel drawn to wilderness as if there is something in me that connects to it. When I was driving home from work sometimes I'd just stop the car, get out and stare at the sky.

When I'm in a city I feel a bit sick inside - all that grey concrete, metal, billboards, smoke. Especially in areas without many trees or which are flat. I can understand how someone from a tribal society could become mentally or even physically ill living in a city.

My wife on the other hand grew up in the suburbs close to the city and she loves cafes, the bustle of life and so on. She appreciate's the beauty of wilderness but I don't think it 'speaks' to her in the same way.

When I lived in Abu Dhabi I found the desert environment very barren, yet I've heard that many emiratis love to go into the desert to 're-connect' - presumably because its their wilderness. How did I cope with the desert? I fell in love with Skyrim and spent hours galloping about on my horse admiring the stunning mountains, forests and rivers!!

 

[cupiscent]

Possibly it depends on childhood associations? I grew up in a very small tropical town. I still prefer heat to cold, and love the sound of rain on rooftops, and like to hear and see the ocean now and then. But I hated that town - it was a small, narrow-minded and terrible place to grow up smart and different - and possibly because of that, I have always been a Big City girl.

On the other hand, I still vividly remember going to a friend's wedding in the United States, and all of the Aussies convening outside the restrooms to have an animated "oh my god I can't believe it" about the profligate waste of water in the amenities. However Big City I am, there are certain elements of relationship with the environment that just stick, here in Australia.

 

[Giya Kusezu]

I don't know if it has affected my personality at all, but I know that where I have lived has affected my view of what is soothing.

I grew up in northern Utah, so plenty of unpredictable weather and dry climate extremes. I love the mountains here, and I feel lost without "my" mountains at times. I went to Idaho to visit a friend once, and I remember feeling dissatisfied with the nearby mountains there because they looked and felt all wrong.

I was raised in the city, but I still feel the need to be out in open spaces. I think it's because we went camping a lot when I was a child. I love cold temperatures and snow, but I also love the time of year when green is coming back to everything and flowers bloom and birds are singing. It's like life has returned to a dreary, dead world that has held me captive for a few months.

I have seen some beautiful land in this state. I have seen lush farmland, sculpted city blocks, canyons and cathedrals of red or orange rock, man-made lakes of emerald green water, and snow-covered crags of mountain peaks high above all else.

Yet, I find it interesting that when I think of "home", I identify with the hot sun on my back, warm, dry air enveloping me, and the long, harsh stretches of wind-blown desert fading into the distance. I wouldn't call it barren or flat - the land here has such a variety of terrain, and there is life everywhere, if you know where to look. As a writer, it has challenged me to try and create diverse lands in the places I imagine and write about.

 

[Noldona]

I was born and raised in Tampa. Lived there 20 years before joining the military and moving elsewhere. Spent 4 years in Nebraska, the past 7 in Alabama, and 4 months in Qatar. By this theory, I should love the sun and the beach. However, while I don't hate it, I can take it or leave it. Personally, I prefer the mountains and woods. Give me a pack and some back country trails to hike and I am happy. I do prefer to be warm over cold, but I love the look of snow. As long as I got enough layers, I am fine.

 

[Ireth]

Seconded. I was born and raised in Manitoba, Canada, where it snows for up to six months of the year, and winter temperatures have gone below -50 Celsius. I should love winter and cold, right? Wrong! Can't stand it. I have poor circulation, too, which makes me that much more susceptible to lower temperatures. Give me rain or sunshine any day.

 

[Jabrosky]

I spent around six years of my childhood as an expat in Singapore, starting around age six. Most of my memories of that place are fondly nostalgic, since it was a gorgeous tropical paradise...but unfortunately a downside of that was the muggy heat. It was most uncomfortable when we were doing P.E. classes outside, and I'm confident that those experiences drove me inside and thereby contributed to my preteen weight gain. I used to be a fairly slender kid, but ever since Singapore I've bloated up and still have yet to recover from it.

But like I said, I still miss the lush tropical beauty of the place. I loved having this primeval jungle within a short driving distance of home, as if the promise of adventure lay just beyond my own backyard. Of course, it helped that I associated jungles with dinosaurs and other fearsome creatures, ancient ruins, and "exotic" native cultures (though to be sure, I never cared for the "savage cannibal" stereotype associated with them).

Once I moved to cooler and drier places further away from the Equator, I came to see autumn and winter as visually depressing. Whenever I see trees shed their leaves, it seems like a segue from the cheerful, green warmth of summer to the dreary, barren cool of winter. But then this is the perspective of someone who has fond memories of a place without winter, so people who grew up with winter might not interpret it as so sad.

 

[CupofJoe]

Does the landscape in which we grow up affect who we are, and how? How do you think it affected you?

For me the answer is a simple yes...
Landscape and Climate affect the culture of the people that live in it. Any culture will affect those that live within it...
I have no idea how the landscape around me has affected me - I've not really live [long term] away from it. It is the normal and everyday for me. A bit like how drinking water tastes weird when you travel. You don't notice the taste at home...
All that said I love the idea of Heimat and Terroir. I have a strong sense of belonging to a rather amorphous blob of SE England [and bits of Northern Ireland and North Wales oddly]. These are place I feel at home when I'm there.
I know there are locations, views and even signposts that make me relax - because I know that I am home and safe [or soon will be].

 

[Svrtnsse]

Thanks everyone for your comments and answers. I just got back home, full of impressions, sea breeze, and impressive sights seen. Will get back to this thread later.

 

[Chessie]

I've lived in Alaska most of my life. Although the weather is brutal, its a land of majestic beauty. No other mountains compare. Its a place of vast wilderness, adventure, and easy to get lost in the woods right outside the city. Its also a dangerous place. It definitely affects my writing because I have done a lot of hiking and outdoor activities here. I love this place with all of my heart....but we're moving to the south at the end of the year.

I cried like a baby when we first decided on it. But after 30+ years of dark, miserable winters and unsteady light patterns, we are ready to move on. What does suck is that my fantasy world is Alaska. I draw loads of inspiration from this place. I'm curious about how this will change the stories I write...but I suspect mountains, marshes, and oceans will always be #1 in my heart.

I'm an outdoors person which is imperative to surviving in this place. A love of nature is a requirement...not sure how I will adapt to snake and gator filled swamps though.

 

[Caged Maiden]

One thing I've taken from this thread is that people have longing for different things. I'll remember that as I write characters from different places. In a few of my books people move to foreign lands. I think this would be a really wonderful character conversation in one story in particular. Thanks for everyone mentioning the things that they love about where they live.

 

[ThinkerX]

Lifelong denizen of Alaska. A huge mat of coniferous forest bigger than some countries rolling across plains, through marshes, and over rounded hills, bordered by stark mountains where the snow never melts and cold grey coastal waters.

Long, cold, dark winters bringing depression that drives people to religious fanaticism and/or alcoholism.

Short summers where the sun seldom seems to set, bringing euphoria and periods of intense extended outdoor activity.

Of being where the roads and attendant civilization ends.

 

[WooHooMan]

I grew-up in a port town in the northeast US.
It was often rainy and the winters were pretty bad. Summer was nice enough but short and there was always a lot of road construction.

So, everyone from my hometown is normally depressed and easily irritated but are very cautious and patient drivers.

I also find that we have an affinity for sea food, lighthouses, boats and trains.

 

[Svrtnsse]

It does seem that have you relate to the world is affected by the land in which you grow up. Most of it seems to be indirect though. It's not necessarily the land itself that affects you, but the culture of the people which live in the land. The land dictates what behaviors and attitudes are encouraged and in that way the impact of the land is indirect, rather than direct.

The climate will of course have an impact on you as well, and I guess that's a function of the land. You don't have to like it,but it does affect you in one way or the other.

Land formations seem to affect you as well. The presence of mountains or forests shape your sense of direction etc.

 

[X Equestris]

Yeah, most of it is indirect. Though there are, of course, physical adaptations. And weather has a big part to play, too. Up north, six inches of snow isn't usually enough to close schools, but down here we might have school let out for a couple days.

And then there are more abnormal weather things that are localized to certain parts of the world. For example, I live in Oklahoma, right in the heart of tornado alley. For us, it's a relatively normal thing. For someone who was visiting from another part of the country or the world, it would probably be a whole different experience.

I mean, this thing rolled though the other side of the county last night:

 

[Elrik Blackhaven]

I grew up in Eastern Nebraska. Very rural, lots of trees and rivers, gentle hills. Biter cold and huge amounts of snow in the winter. Tornados and thunderstorms all summer long and lots of humidity. When I went to work for the Government, my first assignment was in SW Kansas. What a shock! No hills, no trees, no rivers. Just flat land with grass and the wind never stops blowing. I lived there for only 2 years and felt physically ill most of the time, like I was cut off from a part of nature I needed. I dreamed of going back to Nebraska. However, I moved to Colorado instead and I was reborn! The huge expanses of National Forests, the 14.000 foot tall mountain peaks. The blues skies and crisp, dry air. More sunny days than Florida. I have lived here more than 20 years now and it feels like home. Like I belong here. I went back to Nebraska when my mother died and it seemed alien to me. Too humid, too much air. (The town I live in is at over 5000 feet elevation) No mountains in sight. I thought to myself, 'I used to live here?' After I got my mother's affairs in order, I never went back. I have no reason to. I have no family or friends I'm close to there anymore. I have many fond memories from when I lived there but none are compelling. So I suppose I am the odd one in the fact that the place I spent my first 25+ years, now holds no real connection for me.