The car ride an eight-hour drive from my home in Columbia to my uncle’s apartment right outside of Atlanta, Georgia. I sat alongside my three sisters, all in the process of waking up to view the starry night through our windows.
I sat on the right side of the middle row in my mom’s white van, gazing upon the towering skyline above me, hidden in the shadows of the night. We arrived and stumbled into the small unit, all finding a couch or air mattress to sleep on. I tried to lay down and close my eyes, but I was ecstatic about the days to come so I found myself in a restless state of my hopes for a week of adventure, inspiration and exploration; I did not catch a wink of sleep.
We began our early morning with breakfast to fuel us for our first sight of Atlanta: Stone Mountain. It was a foggy forty-minute drive, which I spent wrestling with my sisters over who would be getting the best couch for that night.
We began our hike up the mountain, which was overflowing with mass of city folk. I observed people of all different identities pass me on the way up, all walking the same path I was. The most beautiful part was their communication. There were people young and old, of all different appearances side by side blasting music and catching up on the latest gossip. It was a beautiful moment to watch strangers bond and chatter, while alongside my own family took our own shared walk in the dampened sunlight.
We reached the top after around an hour to find a view even more magical than the dark skies with glimmering speckles I had seen the previous night. I looked out upon the local buildings towering over highways and neighboring states’ forests of thousands of trees.
The following day, we ate breakfast in a petite vegan cafe with pastel green walls and dark wood booths. My family and I ordered a plethora of cupcakes, cookies and pastries to sample the full experience. Each one had a different combination of familiar flavors that we devoured quickly. We decided it was time to explore the city and hit the local shops. We found tarot card readers with bubbling crystal balls, stores full of aged records, collector’s items, and my personal favorite: a seven-foot-tall white stained Easter Bunny suit with a face of pure fury.
When at our home for the week, we sat tightly on a couch and watched “Survivor” while munching on Trader Joe’s potato chips. We would stay up late, laughing and learning about the high school tales of my mom and her brother in a small rural Maryville. He was the passionate artistic kid, and she was a high school darling well-liked by her peers, both battling home troubles. It was fascinating to hear their experiences of having a mother working two full-time jobs while raising them both, and how that taught them to work hard for what they wanted in life. Their bond as children stayed the same into adulthood: giggly kids trying to make each other laugh, all while being overly supportive and kind. We saw this relationship return throughout our week long adventures.
On our last afternoon of exploring Atlanta, we decided it was time for a “shopping day.” With Ponce City Market, a large shopping and living facility, it was love at first sight. The market was an old, orange brick building that marked a railroad on the south side of the open box-shaped building. On top of middle wall was a giant cartoon-style sign reading “Ponce City Market.” I found myself in awe of the ground level shops full of quality art supplies, pastel-colored 60s style bikes, cups of warm coffee and small summer smock dresses. The higher-end section housed expensive home decor stores full of thousand dollar rugs, perfectly manufactured fake succulents, small gelato stands, handmade pottery and art exhibits full of vintage photographs. It was the perfect mix of artistic expression and beautifully made products, all in one building.
We wrapped up a wonderful week with more couch dinners and reality TV and said goodbye to my new, perfect location.
I have since visited Atlanta twice and plan to go back as much as possible. The creativity I saw in the city, whether it was in shops, bakeries, hikes or sidewalks, heightened my ability to feel experimental with arts. I had found a place that made me feel like I had a home away from home. I still crave the feeling it gave me and hope for more adventures in the mystical city of Atlanta.
