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Published: January 21st 2014
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The first trip that I took with the ISA was to Cambridge. Approximately 70% of that town is composed of colleges, another 20% is churches, and the remaining percentage is a mix of pubs and shops. It's a lovely old place, full of gothic architecture and typical English mist. We visited King's College first, passing secret gardens and crossing bridges until we reached the main courtyard. You'll find this out soon enough, but I have a deep love for old buildings, especially old churches. The main chapel was full of intricate stone carvings and it was bisected by a tall wooden screen donated by Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn, supposedly a few years before he got chop-happy. There were people buried in the floor, which didn't really thrill me. I seemed to have an uncanny knack for finding grave sites.
At some point I was separated from my little group and decided to wander on my own. I found a beautiful old church dedicated to the patron saint of travelers, and though it was open there was no one inside. I was walking around, admiring the stonework and the stained glass, when I happened to glance down and realized that
I was standing on a carved face. Given what I knew about English burial practices, I said a very bad word and jumped to one side, and then clapped my hands over my mouth. So far we have desecration of several graves and cursing in church. I'm surprised I wasn't struck down by lightning the moment that I left. I wandered the garden out back for a while, enjoying the organic, untamed look of it and dodging even more headstones as best as I could. I feel like I can't say this enough: I really, really don't like dead things.
I found many wonderful things while walking by myself. There was this strange clock with a giant, vicious-looking grasshopper on top, and a lovely park full of willows and canals, and a courtyard with with food vendors. I bought Jamaican pastries from a man who called me "My lady" and ate them while strolling in the misty afternoon. The best discovery of the day was the Haunted Bookshop, a two-story used bookstore packed to bursting. I bought a tiny prayer book about the size of two fingers that was meant to be kept in a lady's glove, not because
I'm particularly pious but because it was unique and over a hundred years old. The owner and I chatted for a while, and he liked me so much that he gave me a paid invitation to a book fair in the guildhall down the street. When I went inside I thought that I had died and gone to heaven. The smell of old books was comforting, and I would have left with my arms full if I'd had the money. These weren't your typical used books; they were rare, often as old as my finger prayer book, and beautifully bound. There was a book of fairy tales that I would have given my right arm for, but unfortunately they didn't accept limbs as payment. I know because I asked.
There was a graduation going on that day, not surprising since they had roughly twenty colleges. I learned to my great delight that the graduates have fur-trimmed robes and male professors wear top hats to the ceremonies. I met up with Milla and Rakesh at that point, and the three of us wandered around the grounds of Trinity College. We may or may not have had the right to do
that, but the door to the main courtyard was unlocked. We practiced our English accents just to be safe.
We found the oldest church in Cambridge, a single chapel modeled after the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. Called the Round Church, it was nearly a thousand years old and full of delicate arches and beautiful tile flooring. Even if its age hadn't automatically made it my favorite, it was stunning in its simplicity. As much as I love ornate architecture, I feel that I would have chosen to be part of the Round Church's congregation. I know I might come off as religious, but really, I just love beautiful architecture.
Since no trip would be complete without a nerd reference of some sort, we also swung by St. Giles' because if I were a Buffyverse character I would probably be Rupert Giles. And we totally found a whomping willow, so my new theory is that Trinity College is actually a wizarding school. Not Hogwarts itself, mind, I've been there.
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