Buxton: My Private Haven in the UK
Over the years in the UK, people have often asked me, "Why do you always go to small towns?" The hustle and bustle of London, the crowds, and even the sense of decay hidden behind its glamour, never gave me a sense of belonging. It wasn't until I discovered Buxton that I understood the true essence of England.
- This town, gently embraced by the Peak District, feels like it's been slowed down by time. There are no crowded tourist hotspots, only the gentle collision of old buildings and new shops. The walls of century-old stone houses may be a little weathered, but the galleries next door display vibrant colors. The aroma wafting from vintage cafes mingles with the crispness of bottled water, bathed in the afternoon sun.
- Sitting on a park bench, watching children chase the wind on the lawn, I don't even care if my coffee gets cold. I just watch the clouds drift by. I realize that healing isn't about rushing to popular landmarks, but about finding a corner where your heart can slow down.
- The most delightful surprise was the beer here. The gooseberry flavor, brewed with local mineral water, was an unexpected burst of sourness, astringency, and bitterness upon first taste, followed by a sweet aftertaste of gooseberry. This was much like my years living in England—the initial awkwardness of arriving, the jarring cultural clashes, but also the unique sweetness found in the small, beautiful moments.
- Many people don't have Buxton on their UK bucket list, but it's precisely these less-known towns that hold the most authentic aspects of everyday British life. It reminds me of the book I recently read, "You Don't Have to Be Just Another Face in the Crowd." Perhaps on some ordinary day, you suddenly realize that life can be unhurried, unhurried, simply growing at your own pace. Just like when we're abroad, finding our own scenery, not having to live up to others' expectations, is enough…