CHAPTER 170

2026-09-07

I often dream, and some fragments of those dreams linger in my memory. This is probably because my brain is constantly in an active state and needs to relax. Returning to nature is my first choice.

As far as I can remember, the first time I ever set foot on a beach was when I was in Grade 3, on the annual school outing organized by North Point Java Road Government Afternoon Primary School. I can no longer verify whether each grade had a different destination. That year, we went to Repulse Bay at the southern end of Hong Kong Island.

I remember very little now. The first thing I remember is that my mother prepared quite a lot of food for me. Some of my classmates had brought only very simple food, which was completely beyond what I had expected, and it left a deep impression on me. The second thing I remember is the happy atmosphere. What we played and how we played are completely forgotten, but the blue-and-yellow hues of that day have somehow remained in my memory.

From then on, I often wanted to take trips to the beaches on Hong Kong Island, going with my brothers, classmates, volunteer friends, friends and later girlfriend. I never seemed to tire of such outings. Later, I took up camping as well and fell in love with this kind of activity.

After coming to Canada, the convenience of driving made it possible for me to take my family on trips outside the city. Once I became familiar with driving, I often visited attractions within roughly a 400-kilometre driving radius, most of which had something to do with water—oceans, rivers, streams, lakes and waterfalls.

Looking back, I never deliberately planned solo trips to beaches or mountains and forests. But since I often drove alone, there must have been occasions when I happened to pass by such places and stopped for a while.

A year after my wife passed away, I had become accustomed to living with one person fewer in the household. I felt it was time to live my own life and do things that would bring me peace and comfort. One of these was to visit nature more often—to seek out the sea, mountains and waters. That has been my way of life this year.

Greater Vancouver is blessed with a rich variety of natural scenery. At the moment, I am particularly drawn to the beaches in Vancouver, mainly as a way of changing my surroundings and refreshing myself. The Tri-Cities and Burnaby also have beautiful and soothing natural scenery, but their character is more “green” and secluded. Richmond, by comparison, can feel rather desolate.

Apart from writing two or three articles a week, my life is now quite sedentary. When my younger son is at work or has plans of his own, I am the only one at home. Other than cooking and doing the laundry, there is not much housework to keep me busy. I visit Lun only once a week.

I can no longer read books for very long because I easily start yawning, then my eyes automatically close and my head begins to nod. Before I know it, I am off to meet the Duke of Zhou in my dreams. These days, I watch more commentary programs because I can stay awake a little longer. But when the program becomes monotonous, especially when the narration is delivered by artificial intelligence in a monotonous, chant-like voice, I still become unbearably sleepy, with my head almost dropping onto the floor.

Scrolling through my phone is like eating snacks: it is easy to become addicted, but it is of little benefit, and it makes the hands of the clock seem to spin at high speed.

I often dream, and fragments remain in my memory. My brain is probably constantly active and needs to relax. Returning to nature is therefore my preferred choice.

The destination cannot be too close; it has to give me the feeling that I have actually “gone somewhere.” Places about 30 to 40 kilometres away each way are ideal. Unless I have an appointment to rush to, I enjoy driving out on my own. With my hands on the steering wheel, I automatically switch into a kind of mechanical mode. My mind focuses on the road, and my worries gradually fade away.

Another reason is that I am often alone, and I live in a relatively small city where the pace of life is quieter. When I seek a change of scenery to refresh both body and mind, I also hope to see more people around me. On Vancouver’s large beaches, I can keep my distance from others while still seeing people around. The scenery is beautiful without feeling deserted, yet it is not overly secluded either.

At the beach, I first take a walk for a while, then find a quiet spot. I tune out other people's conversations, sit in a beach chair under a sun umbrella, watch the people moving about, close my eyes, listen to the waves, do nothing, have a small snack and drink milk tea. Gradually, my mind becomes quiet.

I usually stop after about two hours. Recently, I have started walking barefoot back to my car as an exercise for my legs and balance. Whether I take photographs depends on the scenery and my mood.

Before or after enjoying the scenery, I often visit a long-established Hong Kong-style café. Back when my wife was still alive and I would pick her up from work in Vancouver, we often went there to avoid wasting time sitting in traffic. Over the years, I became a regular customer. Seeing a few familiar faces gives me a greater sense of comfort and reassurance.