During the last few days in Chiang Mai, I stayed in a rural guesthouse situated near a lake. Apart from the small cabin, there were no other facilities for miles around. As far as the eye could see, there were layers of trees. This was the closest I had ever been to nature. I thought I would feel happy because of the birdsong and the natural beauty, but it didn't turn out that way.
On the first day in the small cabin, I took a walk by the lake before the sun set. While resting on a bench, I suddenly heard a faint sound, and noticed a long, slender snake leisurely moving on a branch less than two meters away from me. To me, the snake was like Lord Voldemort to most wizards - a terrifying presence that you couldn't even think about, let alone speak of! I stared at it, and with my legs trembling slightly, I slowly stood up and moved away without looking back, hastily returning to the cabin. In those few seconds, or maybe minutes, I forgot if I had even remembered to breathe.
Back inside, I nervously checked every corner, fearing that the "uninvited guest" might return. Over the next few days, I rarely ventured outside except during meal times, and I would get goosebumps at the slightest rustle in the bushes.
Turns out, I enjoyed being outdoors, but I didn't really like "nature" that much. What I liked was the well-organized greenery in ecological parks. I enjoyed the absence of snakes, bees, and cockroaches, and I appreciated the idyllic world where cats, flowers, and butterflies coexisted.
"I really love nature!" Such a naive statement. As a city dweller, I should refrain from using it so casually.