I lock my bike onto a rusty rack at Gloucester Green. It has done me well, carrying myself and the rucksack all the way down here. After an unusually long stare at it, I turn away and hop on one of the first coaches to London Victoria. From there, I change to King’s Cross. I’m heading north, to the mountains, into the wild, alone. My first lesson, however, wasn’t in a deep dark forest or on an open Munro. It was in London.
We humans are extremely adaptive. You may not have realized, but we have managed well towards the ‘harshness’ of urban living. Noise-cancelling headphones for one – what a marvelous piece of technology! With a simple flip of a switch, ill-inducing sounds are no more. As I walk the city streets with my rucksack on my back. I glare at the city dwellers, their headphones, their urban outfits and their luxurious and delicate handbags. Quite disgracefully, I felt smug, superior somehow. I thought that I was better than the people who are used to living in a city; that I was leaving for a far more pleasant place; that I will be closer to God by moving away from it all.
creation awaits
It was end of term yesterday, a time for laying down burdens of work and many farewells. My friend’s dad came and picked him up, bearing surprising gifts - an entire crate of bottles of craft ale. But alas, they will have to wait – for I was heading afar, without much lingering at all.
Born and raised in one of the largest cities in China. I wasn’t a stranger to the rhythm of urban life. The barking traffic, the concrete maze, the smile-less faces… It was normal practice for any city dweller. London is a place of no difference. Even the usual friendly exchange with the bus driver has been replaced by a metallic and robotic beep.
Sheppard Li
I
t’s about 6:30 in the morning. The sun has just risen; its warm and vibrant rays pierce through the freezing air, filling each street and alley with a golden ambience.
I’m lucky to have found a window seat on
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