This fall, I’m starting a new chapter as a PhD student at the Booth School of Business. I finished my undergrad in Shanghai — another windy city. Coincidence, perhaps, that I end up here in Chicago, as if the wind insists on pushing a bit for the chapters of my life.
Chicago has its grand, confident skyline, but Hyde Park — where I now live — feels like a world of its own. In summer, the streets are lined with lush, green canopies that almost hum with quiet intelligence.
Birds and trees in Hyde Park near my apartment.
Hyde Park exists because of the University of Chicago, and it carries that inheritance in its air: book-smart, curious, civilized, contemplative. Forty minutes away from downtown Chicago’s roars. But here there is stillness — a place where I can breathe, sit down with a book and let the hours stretch.
The neighborhood’s vibe reminds me of Tchaikovsky’s Serenade for Strings, Movement II — lively yet restrained, elegant, generous, as though each street has its own quiet story to tell.
Orientation starts September 8 — three weeks of introductions and beginnings before the fall quarter begins in earnest. Soon the sidewalks will be busier, but for now, Hyde Park is quiet. I’m learning to listen to it, to settle into its rhythm, and hoping to write fewer classical music posts this season — but no promises.