I was putting Cambridge a lot more responsibility as this city was the first city to begin whatever I was trying to begin with. And the job was well done. Cambridge treasures most of the bits I fancy about Britain's architecture which would come up within the list of why I love United Kingdom if someone ask me. Not quite sure why, but I feel safe in Cambridge more than any other places I have visit. Walking through the dark and quiet alley did not bother me much. All the posh colleges transmitting the aura of intelligence. Injects you with endearing imaginary passion to get accepted in to one of the fortune-cost universities. Honestly, I like that. I fall for Cambridge instantly. As if we are best friend in some other parallel universe.
It takes a while to get to York from Cambridge by train. Two stops. A small town called Ely and then Peterborough. Seeing York was like looking at one lousy charming gentleman, traveling with a guitar case on his back. Very, very attractive. But in the same time you could feel irritated with the scruffy beard, giving the sense something dangerous and rebellious hidden.
In terms of the structure, York wins out of everything. The old buildings, vintage-like alleys made you forget you were on the 21st century The existence of iPad nor auto-tune. It felt more like you were in the middle of Hogsmeade; somewhere behind the aged pub door, might lead you to a secret passage to Hogwarts.
Rain was pouring hard when I got out of the hotel. Gloomy weather probably one of the least thing any traveler wished for. Although, the wet and everything adding the art of traveling. I believe, without rain York would looked better. It still looked great under the rain, though.
Durham, County Durham
Pronounced, Darem. The idea to visit Durham came less than ten minutes when I stepped on York train station. At first, I thought we were going home. However, this city was very mysterious. It was like the small version of York. Up hill high street, a massive cathedral, river with bridges. My bad, my feet did not fully support me to discover this city with proper enthusiasm. Also I got there when the sun already set. Spent only couple hours.
But one thing Durham got me going; the mysterious bookstore. There was one bookstore at the end of the main street, deep down where shops were getting least interest and less lightings. Waterstone. The Durham University merchandize that first pulled me in, while I could see from the outside, there was nobody inside but the cashier lady.
The magic neatly hidden on the second floor. Visitor might just lose the attention on the first floor because there was not much going on. But on the second floor, for me personally, I found a whole rack of my sanctuary. All kinds of philosophy books voicelessly calling out my name. I found my favorite bookstore in the whole world, in Durham. The city I never knew before I went to York train station!
In conclusion, this trip saved me. x
A piece by : Fiya Muiz