King’s Church, Cambridge, UK. October 2008.
Once upon a time I harboured a distant dream of attending Cambridge. It’s a long shot for me to get there, but I think I was attracted to the image of prestige, intellectual, and excellence of the place. And some anti-establishment part of me disliked this notion. Well, I did get to there eventually, but only as a traveller and visitor of a friend. And I enjoyed it immensely. Of all the places I visited in England, this was the most English of them all. The architecture, the cobblestone streets, the walks in the prairie, men in cloaks and gowns and trench coats. I felt like being transplanted into a chapter of history, walking along the same footways as legendary great names. I didn’t necessary feel smarter being there, but I did feel much more English than anywhere.