I escape for a moment to meet with my friends from Cairo, Milan, and Berkley in the Pembroke dining hall–a well needed break. The King’s library has started to feel like home by now. I even have “my spot” where I leave my stuff for days on end. Today I can’t stay too long. Formal Hall is just a few hours away and I look like a complete mess. I tidy up my things into a neat pile, and head for home-number three Fitzwilliam Street.
Number three Fitzwilliam lies snuggled between two identical looking apartments. It fits perfectly with its ancient surroundings. The Fitzwilliam museum is just steps away from my front door, and heading north on Trumpington Street, Pembroke College is a mere three minute walk, kings six, and the Union Center roughly ten. I enjoy the quiet comfort of my little apartment as it is much cozier than the busy corridors that lie close to Kings College. Any further north than Pembroke College the streets fill with people, mostly tourists, rushing to and fro.
As seven O’ clock creeps closer, I look at myself in the mirror with a sigh of relief. I’ve done a decent enough job. And now, the final touch. I Grab the fuchsia hat that I purchased in Edinburgh which now sits on my bookstand, and I fasten it into my hair with a few bobby pins.
Formal Hall nights are one of my favorite. Playing dress up as a little girl, I dreamed about sitting and eating where I am now, done up in my most formal attire. A three course meal is always served, with extremely small portions but in an incredible display.
The spiral stone staircases, scorched black bricks, and rustic doors are a history lesson in and of themselves. Every time I walk by anything here it screams at my naivety with hundreds of years of wisdom and experience. The cobblestones I walk on everyday are a remembrance of the people whose footsteps I am walking in; Darwin, Watson, Crick, and C S Lewis all walked on these same stones. They were shaped by this town, the same town that I am being shaped by now.
Cream tea, walks to Granchester, formal halls, co-ed bathrooms, bottles of wine, unreliable internet, and buildings older than my country, Cambridge has been a journey, a journey that has taught me to live and love each and every day. It has taught me to open my mind to new knowledge, while still having my own opinions and being passionate about what I love. When you love something so much, there is no way you will never give it up. I will never give up my memories here, I will never give up my love of Cambridge.