One day I will upload images to go along with these posts.
I spent much of the remainder of Day 1 on the internet primarily watching Netflix at my Gate in Boston. The highlight was a raspberry heffewessien by Harpoon Brewery and a meek cheese Panini. They really advertise the fact that in Boston, they are just across the river from Logan Airport. Just across the river might as well be across the world when you are trapped in a mile-by-mile landmass, in between where you were and where you are going. There really is no escaping from travel once you start.
The flight to London is very uneventful. Less than half the seats of the plane are full which means I can stretch out and relax. The luxury of dosing into odd dreams is interrupted by watching Sophia Copalla’s Somewhere and eating a pasta meal provided by Delta. I have to say, Delata’s pasta disappointed less.
Getting off the flight in Heathrow, collecting my baggage, and venturing through customs went by with little incident. At the customs booth, the agent was more interested in my research that I would be conducting in Germany than as to why I was staying in Cambridge. Sometimes looking harmless (and unshaven) has its benefits. The last time I went through customs at Heathrow, I was carrying a Cornell Campus Mail envelope, which, much to the amusement of the agent, looks exactly like the packages they hand over to those they are deporting from London.
A three hour bus ride awaited me. Mostly nodding in and out of consciousness occupied my time. The other was being caught up with images of the countryside and small towns. After a bit, it felt as if we had to stop at every small town from Heathrow to Cambridge.
At long last, arrival in Cambridge and my friend P is waiting for me. Successfully made it all the way! Not a small feet for someone who stressed about these things.
She insists on dragging my luggage (only one roller) through the back streets of Cambridge to her flat. Luckily, she is a triathlete so I do not feel so terrible. However, it amuses me that the bag is about half her size (P, if you are reading this, just think of me saying “bag” and I hope all is forgiven). Additionally, when you get into a walking pace with a rolling bag, you often can pick up a decent bass line for composing a song. Cobblecobblecobble-Curb-Cobblecobblecobble-Curb-Curb-Crackinsidewalk-Crackinsidewalk-Curb-Curb-Cobblecobblecobble and so forth.
Her flat is marvelous. She rents a small three and a half room one, minimally but very P like decorated. The view is fantastic, it overlooks King’s college and most of Cambridge. Overall, it looks like a comfortable home to be in for her two year stay there.
I am most impressed by the couch. The beast has no legs and rests directly on the floor. At first glance, it appears as if it has fallen or perhaps pillows constructed into seats. However, once I took a seat, I fell in love. A great piece of furniture apparently does not need legs.
She proved an adept tour guide as we wandered the streets and through ancient colleges. Pubs abound and she took me to one especially for the fish and chips. Well, they were out of fish, so we finished our pints and went on to an African restaurant (in Cambridge). Surprisingly good food was provided. The beer on the other hand, well, pales in comparison to the dark and strong American Beer.
From there, we ventured back to her flat through the windy streets. I was relieved to relax, a bit tired from the whole transition from the States to Europe. And thus concluded Day 2.
