A Midsummer Night’s Dream
IV.I.VIII
A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM
My time in Cambridge was mostly about medicine. With six weeks on our hands, Momma Bear and I had ample time to enjoy everything the city and its surroundings had to offer.
Together with our flatmates Botond – a Hungarian guy, and Nina – a German girl, who both happened to be doing their medical elective at Addenbrooke’s, we had all sorts of fun and adventures. I can honestly say I have the fondest memories of that place. I had adventures to my heart’s content, and gained enough knowledge to satisfy my mind’s desires. It was truly one of the most gratifying periods of my life.
Cambridge, the county town of Cambridgeshire, is a university city north east of London. And when I say university city, I’m not messing around. The University of Cambridge, founded in 1209, is the second oldest English-speaking university in the world and is made up of self-governing colleges scattered all around the city, each a fascination to visitors.
Apart from that, the university also runs the second largest university press, and one can find tons of museums and tons of libraries housing over a total of 16 million books. Which means you can practically smell the scent of old books as soon as you step into the city.
Cambridge was the city that stole my heart. I could imagine living here forever – despite my love of jungle and mountains. I could definitely do without all of that if it meant being on this slice of paradise.
I genuinely love everything about Cambridge. The architecture of the old, historic buildings. The suburbs, the outskirts and the city centre. The museums, the parks and the gardens. The street markets and the quaint English pubs. The cherries and the champagne as you’re punting down the River Cam in front of King’s College. The time-worn book you manage to stumble upon in a dark corner of an antique book shop. The crumpets and the cakes in that one coffee shop in Green Street. The quiet, peaceful life everyone seems to lead.
Being conferred temporary student status at the University of Cambridge allowed us to enter the colleges for free and attend college events. Not gonna lie, visiting them felt a lot like being transported into a world I never really thought I could ever experience in my lifetime – something I would have completely missed out on otherwise. Passing through the grassy courtyards and the wooden dorms, this incredible sense of nostalgia and melancholia struck me as I realised I’d never get to experience such a life for myself, that I’d never get to be a student in such a college.
I mean sure, I did attend university, but it was nothing of the sort. Our campus does not quite tantalise one’s architectural senses, and that’s to say the least. Plus, given that Malta is such a small country, most of us don’t even move out to study, and so dorms are practically non-existent.
I think the final nail in my coffin of envy was when we got an exclusive invite to a formal dinner at King’s College’s dining hall, which is practically always closed to visitors. Luckily enough, Momma Bear and I attended a medical conference that ended with a dinner there. All dressed up and fancy, we made our way to the college through a prairie where slowly the spectacular chapel comes into view. In front of it, we had a small, charming reception, and after a few drinks, in we went, excited at the prospect of entering the magnificent building. And let me tell you, stepping into the oak-covered, dramatic and imposing Gothic dining hall of King’s College felt exactly as if we had just entered that of Hogwarts.
The tables were all set up beautifully, with fresh white linens, flowers, and silver candelabra and cutlery on each. So elegant, so tasteful. And the people. My god, so poised, so sophisticated. Talk about feeling like a fish out of water. Of course, that was only made more evident once they served us seared and tartare mackerel, horseradish, beetroot and… white chocolate. To my inexistent palate, it all looked absurd and potentially vomit-inducing, until the very second the combinations of flavours hit my taste buds. So exquisite, so mouth-watering.
Then there was the crème de la crème… The Cambridge Shakespeare Festival. I get goosebumps and teary eyed just thinking about it. To think I got to experience this greatness first hand…
An eight-week event run by the Cambridge Shakespeare Company where they perform Shakespeare’s masterpieces in the gardens and courtyards of Cambridge’s colleges. That’s right, the audience gets to have a picnic and lie on the grass as the drama and tragedies unfold right in front of their very eyes. Truly a surreal experience. Given how sought-after these events are, I count myself lucky to have been able to get tickets for Hamlet and A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
And let me tell you, I could spend my entire life watching these performances. The stages are stripped down to their bare minimum, allowing the incredible acting to shine through what they refer to as “unnecessary theatrical artifice and gimmickry”. And so it’s no wonder that one of my dreams is now to watch all their plays.
Part of what makes Cambridge so charming and idyllic is also the fact that it’s surrounded by countryside on every side.
The River Cam passes straight through the city from Grantchester – a neighbouring village that is equally as peaceful and picturesque. From visiting churches and having high tea at an orchard to taking long walks in the green meadows and kayaking on the river accompanied by ducks and swans, I’d say Grantchester kinda made me wanna retire at an early age.
As did Ely, another village close to Cambridge which used to be an island before its surrounding water was drained. The Isle of Ely is now renown for its impressive cathedral which dominates the skyline and the marina; a popular boating spot. Here, Botond and I got to rent a canoe and paddled over the Ely River. I would’ve said it was a perfect trip – though the swan attack that left me nearly blind didn’t quite fit the vibe.
Okay, one last bit before I move on. As much as I loved Cambridge, over the weekend we’d also have some time to go outside the county.
On one such weekends, Momma and I headed to Suffolk. Our escape there felt like stepping straight into the English countryside of storybooks. We’d be staying in Ipswich, which meant starting the day with a wander through Christchurch Park and its beautiful Christchurch Mansion, a Tudor gem filled with creaky floors, ornate rooms and paintings older than my entire family tree. Down by the Ipswich Waterfront, the old docklands mixed with cafés and boats bobbing in the marina made the whole place feel like a peaceful seaside postcard. From there we headed to the Southwold coast, where pastel beach huts, a breezy pier and the salty air made it impossible not to slow down and just enjoy being alive.
The next day, Momma Bear decided to live her best British life as she stayed at our cosy cottage enjoying a good book and a cup of tea. I, on the other hand, ventured alone to explore more of Suffolk’s coastal charms: Orford Quay with its fishing boats and windswept marshes, and Orford Castle towering above the village like a medieval guardian still keeping watch. It was the sort of countryside break that filled my lungs, my camera roll and my soul all at once.
And finally, there was also my solo daytrip to Norfolk. While I was exploring the quiet lanes of Norwich and wandering around the impressive castle and majestic cathedral, I was met with Antonio – an Italian guy who’d been living there for nearly a decade.
We had met serendipitously while I was having a coffee. He gave me a couple of sideway glances and then sparked a conversation. Turns out, he had seen me on Tinder and wanted to approach me the second he saw me. He was the typical charming, Casanova Italian – and after one long conversation about anything and everything, he offered to drive me around the region. Might be a bit sus, but my gut told me he was a genuine guy and so I indulged.
What followed was practically a short-lived love story that I will forever cherish. He whisked me off on a coastal drive before we set out walking along the quiet stretch of Sea Palling, pockets slowly filling with seashells as we traded stories and tales. We stopped in Cromer for lunch on the pier, the pastel-coloured houses making for the most striking contrast with the deep blue sea. Then, we carried on to Holkham for a boat trip where we spotted seals lounging like sunbathers and did some easy, peaceful birdwatching. By the time we reached Wells-next-the-Sea, the light had gone soft and gold. We kicked off our shoes and walked barefoot across the sandy forest as the sun melted into the horizon.
We spent the night at his place. The next morning we returned to Holkham, wandering the vast beach before heading to Holkham Hall. Set within a vast, beautifully managed estate, the Palladian mansion stands elegant and symmetrical – surrounded by lakes, ancient woodland, and herds of fallow deer that wander as if they own the place. Inside, the décor blends aristocratic grandeur with intimate details that hint at centuries of family history, from lavish state rooms to quieter galleries.
By the time I had to head back to Cambridge, it felt like Antonio and I had known each other for years. Figured that I’d find my soulmate only to have to say goodbye after just a couple of days. Oh life, what a funny, cruel thing you are!
That said, my next farewell was gonna be much more devastating. Now I’d be saying goodbye not just to Norfolk and Cambridge. I’d also be saying goodbye to a life I felt I belong to. But, as always, life goes on. Thank you for the indelible, life-long memories Cambridge, thank you!