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.