Arrival in Cambridge


This unfinished draft has been sitting in my blog directory for almost two years now. I think I’ll just leave it as-is and share it as a memory of my first week in the UK. I have similar scraps of paper recounting thoughts while I was on the plane to London, on the train from Cambridge/to Durham, and on the plane home.

After a weeklong whirlwind of an orientation for the Marshall Scholarship, I’ve finally plugged in my ethernet cable into a cozy dormitory in Burrel’s Field of Trinity College, Cambridge University. If you don’t understand what ‘Trinity College’ means relative to Cambridge University, don’t worry, I’ll explain that in a later blog post along with my reflections on the Marshall orientation.

In the meanwhile, at the expense of writting about the past week’s events out of order, I’d like to reflect on my arrival in the UK’s second oldest university.

To set the stage: It is raining in London.

Imagine feeling a little sad, a little anxious, and a little wet. You’re sad because you just spent a week with 44 of the most amazing people you’ve met and now it’s time to go your separate ways. You’re anxious because you’re heading to a new school, a new home, and a new country (presently dismissing London as an international city). You’re wet because… well… it’s raining in London.

Epilogue: I left the above text completely unchanged since I first wrote it in 2006. I have other bits of paper with hand-written thoughts of Durham, the UK, etc… but these are unfortunately tucked away in a scrapbook in LA. On the day that I left Cambridge, however, I remember writing about how the city looked as I took the cab to the train station. It had rained the night before, but the sky was clear. The morning light reflected off of the grass and the colleges have never looked as stately as when they are enveloped in a bit of mist and dew. This is how I will always remember Cambridge: sparkling.


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