Life in Cambridge. Ah, can it be summed up in a few words? No. But potentially in a few bites? Of a white chocolate and raspberry crepe? Yes.
Oh, lovely. I slept through my alarm this morning (oops!) and woke up a half an hour into breakfast, which meant that by the time I was done with my shower and ready to run through Tree Court and Gonville Courtyard to our ornate dining hall, that it was almost 9 a.m.–at which point breakfast was over. So, I grabbed my purse and bag, and walked straight out the front gates of Caius, and onto the cobblestoned streets in front of me. Past the open market I marched; the coffee shops on the streets, and the open array of lovely fruits did not tempt me. I was on a mission: to secure a crepe, which I had decided the day before that I’d really wanted.
Location of said crepe: street corner, center of Cambridge. Near the phone shop. Yesterday afternoon, there was a long line, and the cheapest of the crepes cost 2.50£, a bit too pricely for a snack on my tight budget. I’ve been on a spending freeze this first week–necessary things only (ie: real food, water, etc.). I’m both trying to save money and also figure out what I really, actaully want/need–as opposed to buying the first thing I see. This led me to wait four days for a chai (the horror!) which I purchased on my way to class yesterday because my head was feeling cloudy, and I convinced myself that chai would work better than Advil (I apparently can convince myself of anything; the chai worked). In any case, I had been waiting for my crepe for nearly 24 hours by the time I emerged onto the Cambridge street. After a quick postcard buying detour (if I was breaking the spending freeze anyways, what’s the harm in buying a few postcards?).
In any case, I approached the light blue cart with awe. You could pick nearly any fruit, vegetable, or sugary item (hello, Nutella). The ‘Cambridge Special’ included strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, and white choclate. But that was out of my price range, so I settled for the slightly less expensive 3.50£ white chocolate and raspberry version. I knew this crepe was my destiny when the guy cooking it said, in a lovely accent:
‘Good morning, miss! Let me just turn down Michael Buble here. What can I get for you?’
A Michael Buble-playing crepe cart. Heaven.
After the crepe itself was done cooking, he placed little dollops of white chocoate all over the inside, and then arranged the fresh raspberries in perfect symmetry. Then, he folded it into a triange, placed it in a paper carrier, and gave me a thin wooden spork.
‘You’re very kind,’ he said, which he had been saying to all his customers, as he handed over the crepe. I already had the change ready in my hands: three 1£ coins, and a 50 pence. I handed over my perfect change and began walking laps of the city, not even tripping over the cobblestones, as I tried to slowly savor the crepe. I’d walked several blocks past King’s College when spork struck paper carrier, and I realized there was no more crepe to be had. I’d already eaten it.
So now I am sitting, sad in the computer lab, remembering the crepe. By not buying things the second I want them, I’m discovering something new: I enjoy them more when I actually get them, and I forget about the things I don’t actaully want.
However, I actively want another crepe.