Jonathan Meyer.

As I mentioned last week, I recently took a trip to California. I was stationed in the Monterey Bay area, visiting my roommate and one of my closest friends, Chris. Longtime readers know Chris — he’s been a recurring figure in this column — and this time, he’s the catalyst for the chaos. To be clear, none of what you’re about to read is a complaint about him or his wonderful family. Let’s just say…California and I are not soulmates.

From the moment my plane landed, I looked out the window and thought, “Where the hell is the grass?” Seriously — brown. Brown as far as the eye could see. Sure, the ocean shimmered on one side, but the classic Midwest green? Nowhere. Except maybe in a couple of palm trees doing their best to pretend.

When I got to the house I was staying at, I did a double take. The neighborhood had no front lawns. No back lawns. No side lawns. No lawns of any kind. Some houses had Astroturf patches for their dogs, which honestly looked more like doormats than yards. A nice try, but nature wasn’t fooled — and neither was I.

What really got me, though, was how close the houses were packed together. As someone who has probably annoyed more than a few Iowa neighbors by blasting trumpet solos, ones that, mind you, helped earn me a decent scholarship, I couldn’t imagine trying to practice knowing my neighbor’s dinner table was basically within reach. Ten feet? That’s not a yard. That’s stalking.

Then there were the deer. Oh, the deer. One night I stepped out the front door and there it was — less than ten feet away — a deer. Just standing there, making full eye contact, looking at me like I was the one intruding. I wasn’t in a timber. I was less than a mile from the ocean. These California deer live like they own the place–and honestly, maybe they do.

Now, I’ll let you sort out which parts of my story are laced with sarcasm and which are just plain awe. But I will say this: there’s huge value in stepping outside your comfort zone. Experiencing new landscapes, new people, new foods, and new ways of thinking — all of that was a highlight. Our country is bizarre and beautiful, and seeing it through fresh eyes, even for just a few days, reminded me how lucky we are to live in it.

But no, I will not be moving to California anytime soon. Chris and his family were incredible hosts, and I’ll always be grateful for the memories we made. But Iowa still has my heart — and more importantly, my space, my grass, and room to practice the trumpet.

Until my next culture shock, I’m Just Jonathan.