9/21/08

Glamour or not glamour

I remember my first Saturday in Cambridge. After five days there, I felt that it was very important to get my hair whased and brussed. On Wednesday, I searched a hairdresser at the City Centre and, finally, I had an appointment for Saturday, at 1:15 in the morning.

I slept better than the previous days and I was very happy having a coffee and reading “Le Monde”. I don’t found “El País” neither other Spanish newspapers and, unfortunatly, read "The Guardian" was very difficult to deep in news about Georgia. What I enjoyed breakfast at Nero Caffé, oposite The King's College!

Well, I’m prepared to do by mobile phone my weekly radioprogramme “100% Internet”, in that occasion talking about Bell and Cambridge.

After that, in The Fitzwilliam Museum I had the oportunity to check one doubt about one of the questions made in the class of Friday evening. I saw a sund-dried clay brick with a cuneiform text made at Ur, Assyria, in 2049-2047 BC and an Egyptian text in limestone writed in 2170-2020 BC. The question is definitively answered: the oldest written language is Egyptian. I have hade the time to enjoy the collection of British an French peinture just before to go to the hairdresser.

In the evening, lunch at home with any meals buyed in the supermarket and a film in my laptop. After that, I came outside and I’ve walked during three hours or more: I knew the transparent swimming pool of Cambridge and I showed any skaters training near the building, I took several photos to the front off the closed shops around The Grafton Center... A very different Cambridge that complete my first perception. Coming back to the colleges’s area I found a big bookshop, Beffers, that I reviewed almost complete without to shop anything yet. I didn't like falling mad for the shops in this travel.

The Santa María Church's bell sound, hand-played by young people (students, I suppose) put a beautiful end in my first Saturday in Cambridge. At the same time, I ate a hamburguer with bacon and cheese with letuce and ketchup. Prosaic, yes, but authentic.

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