The 330 is gorgeous. Seriously, I look around and am always amazed that this part of the state is within the same boundaries as the section I grew up in. It’s lush and vibrant. Rolling hills dip you down into valleys where the misty fog hangs in the air above your car as you cut a path through to your destination. Cities and small towns exist only miles from each other. Their proximity does not diminish their differences, though. A walk in Peninsula is very different from one in downtown Akron. I enjoy both and love the fact that I can traverse only a few roads and get from one to the other.
And the landscape. Gosh, do I love the scenery here. As mentioned before, I grew up in a different part of the state that is wildly different. The ancient glacier that left grooves behind on the Lake Erie islands left my hometown’s landscape decidedly flat. It’s so flat that we built a hill to sled on. Just one hill in the middle of a park that is totally flat. There is beauty in the flatness. The eye can wander across miles and miles of perfectly tilled and planted fields. However, when I uprooted and transplanted myself to Akron for college, I marveled at the new setting. The steep climbs—I’m thinking of you, Smith hill—terrified me at first. My car chugged its way up, and the breaks were firmly pressed the whole way down. Despite the mild terror of twisting and dipping roads, being in this area was thrilling. It was different and welcoming to someone thinking only of the future.
That sense of wonder and possibility hasn’t faded. I still find myself gawking at the tunnels of lush greenery as I commute to work each morning. And even though it probably takes a little longer, I navigate my route through the CVNP just so I can start and end every workday with scenery that’s good for the soul.
Recently, I found myself going on weekend drives around The 330. These expeditions have no destination. The sole purpose is relaxation. With my husband by my side and my hound in the back—head out the window and ears flapping in the wind—we find new ways to go nowhere.
As we were brainstorming ideas for this Best of the City issue of the magazine, I found myself taking a mental car ride. Places zipped by the window of my mind as I mentally mapped out the area. A smile kept creeping onto my face as I wrote about various places. Each one is linked to a memory of an experience in The 330. Life is all about those snapshot moments. A scrumptious meal, a kind compliment during a shopping trip, a museum where culture collides with laughter-worthy great times—each of these experiences amplifies life in The 330. All of the little things together make life here the best.
