50 / matters magazine / spring 2026
finalmatters
M
y first thought when vis­
iting Maplewood Avenue 
was that it reminded me 
of Main Street in Park 
City, Utah, a charm­
ing, uphill drag that was 
one of my favorites back 
home. It was early September 2024. Even on a week­
day afternoon, snippets of chatter floated down the 
sidewalk from outdoor diners. Commuters walked 
purposefully to and from the train station. To a cou­
ple from a sleepy mountain city, the trains hurtling 
toward Penn Station seemed like they were headed to­
ward the center of the universe. My husband, David, 
and I ventured into Village Coffee for Americanos, 
then down to Bagel Chateau for the first cinnamon 
raisin and everything bagels in what would become a 
weekly tradition.
We were searching for a place to call home after completing the 30-hour 
drive from Salt Lake City with our two less-than-enthusiastic cats in tow. It 
had already been a whirlwind of a year. We were laden with the kind of dread-
filled hope that can only come from uprooting your life to move to a strange 
new place. We had temporarily moved to the hustle and bustle of downtown 
Philadelphia for an internship in July 2023, then back to Salt Lake City for 
David to finish grad school before we embarked on yet another cross-country 
move for his first post-grad job. Needless to say, we were exhausted. Maple­
wood was the first town we’d visited after arriving at our Airbnb in South Or­
ange the night before. Even after the subsequent days spent exploring North 
Jersey, it still stuck out in our minds with its small-town feel just miles from 
the big city. When a rental came up close to Maplewood Avenue, we knew 
we had to jump on it. 
Our first few months in New Jersey were a total learning curve. But for 
me, the most difficult change was the driving. Legend has it that Brigham 
Young, the first governor of the Utah Territory, designed the streets of Salt 
Lake City to be wide enough for a covered wagon to make a U-turn without 
“resorting to profanity.” As a native Utahn, navigating New Jersey’s narrow, 
congested surface streets and the relentless flow of the Garden State Parkway 
felt more like something out of The Fast and the Furious franchise. I didn’t 
drive by myself for the first two months after we moved. When I finally made 
my first solo voyage, a 15-minute trip to a craft store 
on Route 22 (before I learned to avoid Route 22 at all 
costs), I had to do breathing exercises in the parking 
lot before going inside. I may have also resorted to 
some profanity.  
After we moved in, we’d spend our evenings walk­
ing up and down Maplewood Avenue, enjoying the 
early fall weather and marveling over this place that 
we felt like we’d just stumbled upon. During the 
day, we did our best to assimilate into our new lives. 
We frequented Stop & Shop, bought pies at Roman 
Gourmet and cupcakes at The Able Baker. I even 
tried a pork roll, which I was disappointed to learn is 
essentially just a ham sandwich. In hindsight, I’m not 
really sure what else I expected. 
One night after class at Baker Street Yoga, I spot­
ted a “Help Wanted” sign in the front window of 
City W. Working there, I’ve been lucky enough to meet so many members 
of the SOMA community and to watch several seasons of life unfold from 
behind the shop window on Baker Street. From the tree lighting at Dickens 
Village to the senior bus ride on graduation night, it’s been wonderful to be 
welcomed to a place so steeped 
in tradition. Before leaving Salt 
Lake, we’d joked that we want­
ed to live somewhere like Stars 
Hollow in Gilmore Girls. Now 
we felt like we’d found the real 
thing, just with more Italian 
food and 10 times the popula­
tion density. 
A year later, I still have to say 
positive affirmations before get­
ting on I-95. But hey, at least I 
don’t have to pump my own gas. I probably won’t always be lucky enough to 
call Maplewood home. We do rent, after all. But I am grateful for the time I 
have been able to spend in a place that made moving across the country feel 
a lot less scary. 
Originally from Spanish Fork, Utah, Ashtyn Asay is a freelance writer, part-time 
City-W fashionista and full-time cat enthusiast.
From Salt Lake City 
to SOMA
Route 22, culture shock and the community that made it all worthwhile
BY ASHTYN ASAY

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