Buddhist monk in the Grand Canyon
My trip to Arizona got me thinking about something. I’ve always considered myself a city person. Given a choice between New York City or Florida, I’d choose New York. Hong Kong versus Phuket? Hong Kong hands down.
But then last week I found myself driving south from Sedona toward Phoenix and felt sad. Sad to leave the vast desert, the clean air, the cool evening breezes.
I realized, for once, that I preferred the serenity of the country to the bright lights of the city.
So I started to think about where I’ve lived so far:
*I grew up in suburban Chicago;
*went to college in suburban Baltimore;
*moved to sleepy Massachusetts Avenue NW in Washington, DC;
*lived out in the Hong Kong countryside;
*settled on the outskirts of San Francisco proper;
*fled to downtown Chicago; and
*now live in a small town outside Chicago.
In all those places, even though they were in urban areas, I’ve lived on the outskirts or in the suburbs, except for those seven years when I lived in downtown Chicago. And even then it was in a newly developed area.
So maybe I’m not as urban as I thought.
