…he looked to the valley below and said, “Isn’t that amazing?”

I faintly smiled and retreated to my true self, “I see green. The mist covers the green. I don’t feel anything. It’s only sugar cane. It’s the water on both sides. Didn’t I see this at Ko Phi Phi?”

In this world, there are so many moments captured about the sunset, expansive vistas, and the water. I struggle all the time when I see these vistas. When friends return from trips, they boast about the amazing fauna and sunsets. I trick myself into believing that it can be possible. I study the photos and imagine the emotions that I am supposed to feel at the edge of rocks. The colors, the sweeping vistas, the clear water trick me again. That truly I will feel something when I stand on a peak of a mountain and look at the green pasture.

But standing in the upcountry of Maui, I felt nothing. Wasn’t there supposed to be majesty? Why do all the doctors and everything tell that nature is incredible for you? Sure, I enjoy the warm rays of sunshine, but the greenery feels cold and unwelcome. I yearn for the comfort of my own bed and a roof over my head. I like hearing stories of farms and people.

Last year, a filmmaker intrigued by my story invited me out for coffee. He was fascinated that I watched his film even though I did it out of politeness. In my living room alone, I painfully sat through his film watching stills of nature interspersed with a woman’s narration. The narration was moving, but the long scenes of the clouds moving and the trees waving bored me. I wanted movement. I wanted the eyes of something, anything. I wanted the stories of why, not what.

Now sitting in Dolores Park with the cold San Francisco sun, I felt out of place. I didn’t like the feeling of sitting on the lawn. I didn’t like the wind brushing against my cheek. The filmmaker asked if I would accompany him to a secret place. “A secret place up in Marin where you can see the ocean and have the forest surround you in a special way never found anywhere else in the Bay Area,” he said. “It’s a hike, but the view is so rewarding.”

I politely smiled and said, “Nature isn’t for me. I don’t like walking. Trees and views don’t do anything for me.”

Stunned, he gave me a look of disbelief. He said, “I never met anybody who doesn’t like nature. I don’t understand.”

I changed the subject, feeling the distance increase between us. We parted ways at a nearby cafe after I started shivering in the wind. I never talked to him again.