How Familiar Places Can Help You Find Yourself
For anyone who has grown up in a tourist hotspot like my hometown of San Francisco, you develop this weird immunity to what draws people there in the first place. Over the years, I found myself actively avoiding places like Fisherman's Wharf or Pier 39, wearing my local status like some badge of honor. I'd roll my eyes thinking, "I wouldn't be caught dead in a Bubba Gump," or silently judge the poor souls who bought those cheap "San Francisco" sweaters, clueless that our summer feels more like winter to the rest of the country.
Oh so naive I was...
As we all know, time marches on and we age, and things often change. If we are doing it right, our perspectives shift too. This reality hit me square in the face during a recent family vacation to Monterey, California. There I was, standing in what's essentially Pier 39's twin sister, and something in me just... surrendered. I finally embraced being one of "those people."
Now that I've had some time to digest this trip, I keep circling back to this question of how returning to familiar places reveals who we've become.
To me, it was T.S. Eliot who said it best when he wrote, "We shall never cease from exploration and at the end of all our exploring we return only to know the place for the first time." Sometimes the harshest truth we face is that to reconcile with our past selves, we need to revisit the places that shaped us.
PLACES CHANGE LESS THAN YOU DO
Monterey sits about two hours south of San Francisco, with its own beautiful bay, much like its larger neighbor to the north. It's a magnet for families eager to visit the Monterey Bay Aquarium – legitimately one of the nation's best with its massive tanks of sea life, housing everything from hammerheads to octopuses. You anlso get to see Sea Otters and shorebirds up very close.
Slight side note: Any parent with a Disney+ subscription knows the Pixar movie Finding Dory practically used the place as its blueprint. The aquarium sits at the end of "Cannery Row," which any Bay Area local would tell you is basically Fisherman's Wharf's identical twin.
For the golf-obsessed (like my father), Monterey is practically hallowed ground. There's Pebble Beach with those iconic Pacific views, plus Spyglass Hill, Spanish Bay, Poppy Ridge, and Monterey Country Club all packed into that famous "17 mile drive." Most demand either a small fortune or membership connections – except for Pacific Grove, affectionately dubbed "The poor man's Pebble Beach" by locals.
My history with Monterey goes way back. My earliest memories are from when my parents co-bought a place with two other families near 17 mile drive. My dad, who lives to golf now as much as then, suddenly had regular access to these legendary courses. Meanwhile, my siblings and I discovered paradise in that house – a garage with one of those digital-scoring basketball arcade games and a pool table. The hot tub became our sanctuary, though my mother later confessed it terrified her that we'd sneak in unsupervised between ages 6 and 10.
That period was brief but has remained a core memory. Since then, there have been a few school field trips, a couple of golf trips of my own with my dad and friends, and now, bringing my own family there.
These moments force you to accept that while those years won't return, it's okay to hold the nostalgia while acknowledging how your lens has changed.
EVER-CHANGING FAMILY DYNAMICS
Our trip aligned with the kids' Spring Break, continuing our tradition of renting somewhere special this time of year. We landed an Airbnb within Pebble Beach, right along the 17 mile drive. Our Airbnb even had three classic arcade cabinets side-by-side with games like Rampage and Pac-Man – my son immediately gravitated to them, just as I once did.
This trip also meant a full week with my in-laws, people who've become as dear to me as my blood relatives. With my wife caught in work obligations for part of our stay, I took advantage of exploring with them alone. One day stands out – driving the entire 17-mile route, stopping at viewpoints like "Bird Rock" and the "Lone Cypress," with the vast Pacific stretching beyond. As their driver that day, our conversations deepened in unexpected ways. I found myself opening up about my current place in life and the growing importance of family connections.
There's something about these trips that strips away your usual defenses, allowing people you've known for years to suddenly reveal new facets of themselves. When you remove your usual family buffer (in my case, my wife), relationships can shift into something more direct and surprisingly authentic.
YOU ONLY NOTICE WHAT YOU'RE READY TO SEE
And I'd be neglecting my true nature if I didn't mention the birds. Monterey's ecosystem mirrors San Francisco's, hosting many familiar feathered friends: Red-shouldered Hawks, Dark-Eyed Juncos, Scrub Jays, and Nuttals Woodpeckers. The shoreline still held wintering migrants – Whimbrels, Willets, and Short-billed Dowitchers probing the sand for food.
It struck me that my younger self never noticed these creatures during family trips here. It took returning as a more "in-tune" birder to appreciate this dimension. Instead of chasing new life-list species, I found myself drawn to how everything connected – watching jellyfish and "purple sails" strewn across beaches, anemones clinging to rocks, crabs retreating with each approaching wave.
The wildlife was always there. I just wasn't ready to see it until now. What else have I missed by not returning to familiar places with fresh eyes?
GIVE YOURSELF PERMISSION TO ENJOY THE CLICHÉ
Which brings me back to where I started – that whole tourist thing. After the aquarium, we did indeed walk Cannery Row. We absolutely ate at Bubba Gump. And you know what? It was fine! There's an unexpected liberation in embracing these cliché experiences, especially watching the joy they bring your family. Sometimes we need permission to enjoy mainstream attractions without the cynical filter we develop as locals.
This short drive south became a marker for understanding my own evolution. I'm not suggesting you drop thousands on vacation just to "find yourself" – especially if finances are tight. But there's profound value in revisiting somewhere familiar you haven't seen in years, particularly places that bridge childhood and adulthood. It's like rewatching a movie you loved as a kid only to discover entirely different themes as an adult.
For those still reading, I'd love to hear about your own experiences with this kind of time-travel nostalgia. What surprised you? What did your reaction teach you about the person you've become?
I know I'm getting better at understanding myself with each return. Maybe you are too.