punting on the cam & other cambridge adventures

This evening, I’m typing to you from the self-catering kitchen at the YHA in Cambridge. Why am I in the self-catering kitchen writing a blog post? Because out of everywhere in the hostel, it’s the one spot no one else is. Ah, solitude. Such a beautiful thing. The windows are open because the Brits don’t believe in AC, the sun streams forcefully in, and the dulcet tones of the mild-mannered (hah!) natives can be heard wafting by.

Yesterday evening, I did the same thing—sat in this kitchen and wrote my travel-writing essay, which was due today. It’s a bit tough because I want to see everything and do everything this place (Cambridge and England in general) has to offer, but we also have classes and papers due, and so we must confine ourselves to our hostels at times in order to pound the keys.

This morning, we went punting on the Cam River. Picture this: four people in a long, skinny boat, and one person standing on a narrow back ledge, guiding the boat by shoving a long metal pole into the river bottom. It’s much harder than it looks, believe me.

the view from my front perch

You have to keep your balance, maneuver a long and heavy pole, and avoid running into bridges, walls, other boats. I was the first to try my hand at it, and it took me awhile, but I got it down. It’s a bit counter-intuitive. If you want the boat to steer right, you push right, unlike paddle boating. Want to go backwards, push forwards, want to go forwards, push back. Anyways, we each switched out and had a turn. 

lily guides us fearlessly

 

It was quite lovely, floating down the river, soaking up the sunshine, taking in the scenery, bumping into other boats. The professional punters were taking groups of tourists down the river, and we couldn’t help but ogle the tanned, muscled, Cambridge boys. We’re pretty sure that you have to send in a head-shot if you want to get a job as a professional punter because they were all quite attractive. 

standing and punting under this bridge got tricky-- i pulled a bit of a cat-woman crouch

After an hour and a half, a group of us headed back to the Eagle pub (see last blog post for more about it’s history—it’s fascinating) to try our hand at lunch. The usual fare was available—fish and chips, bangers and mash, burgers. I splurged and got a steak and ale pie with mashed potatoes, broccoli, and carrots. It was good. Not bad, not great. Seems to be the theme around here, Brits. Would have definitely been better with a pint of ale but, you know….

Every-time the British say something like “Oh, lucky you’re all over 18 (their drinking age),” we have to go and explain that we can’t drink on this trip. And their eyes get really big in disbelief and they’re quite astounded and sad. I feel you, Brits, I feel you.

Afterwards, I headed to the Fitzwilliam Museum with some friends. 

the museum's lobby

A museum specializing in art and design, it had beautiful furniture, paintings, ceramics, and jewelry from all over the world. Some were centuries old, like the Egyptian sarcophagus, Greek tomb tablets, ancient Korean pottery, or French medieval armory. Others, like the collection of steel jewelry from modern artists, were a bit more recent. 

european pottery

17th c french paintings

...my knight in shining armor?

I got separated from the group and wondered around a bit before I decided I was feeling just a bit museumed out. I headed out in search of a coffee shop, and found Hot Numbers, a cute café with excellent espresso. I ordered a shot and sat in the large front window, people watching for a bit. 

hot numbers cafe

Afterwards, I made my way back to the hostel (by myself! with just a map! so proud!) to rest for a bit. It’s another hot day, and walking in the heat just takes it out of you. I got some advice from one of the hostel workers about where to head next, and I set off.

I headed first down Mill Road, an eclectic bunch of shops—it’s kind of the hippie area, I think: hookah stores, vegan cafes, dim sum and kebab restaurants. Next, I went down East Road, which was chock full of charity shops and antique stores, along with cute little coffee cafes. That’s one thing I really like about the English: they appreciate their cafes.

Headed into the Grafton, which is pretty much just a shopping mall. I hadn’t been in one in England yet, so decided to pop in. Did some more shopping (TopShop, H&M, PriMart, and a few other European stores I hadn't heard of), but I’m limited by both money and space, so I didn’t purchase anything. Enjoyed the experience, though!

Afterwards, I needed a pick-me-up so I chose Jocolatte, a sweet little café offering hot beverages, pastries, and chocolate. My kind of place. 

jocalatte

Got a cup of tea and a toasted tea-cake. Tea-cakes are kind of like a cross between English muffins and hamburger buns. They usually have dried fruit or nuts in them, and you slice them, toast them, and serve with butter and jam. They’re really quite good.

That’s one thing I’ll miss about England: the tea-cakes, the scones with jam and clotted cream, the digestives (a cross between a cookie and a cracker), and the abundance of cafes.

Made my way back to the hostel around 5:30. The rest of the night will be spent doing home-work and packing. We’re headed to York tomorrow morning, and we’ll be there for almost a week.

Until next time, friends.