It’s a reasonably sunny
day. The museum town of Cambridge, which exhales the thirst for education and
the quest for knowledge from every pore, is bustling with life.
Well-dressed-and-groomed students mix with tourists of varied origins and
families on a Sunday outing. Everyone has time, part of what makes for such a
stark contrast with London 2 days earlier.
I sit in front of a small café right
opposite King’s College Chapel, enjoy the rays of sun and a cappuccino and
wonder whether the elder gentleman at the next table might not be an incredibly
famous professor, perhaps the man behind a major scientific break-through. I
wouldn’t be surprised, after having learned that the pub where we went for a
pint last night is the very same location where Watson and Crick celebrated the
discovery of the DNA molecule, and that Stephen Hawking is still teaching right
down the street at the Department of Theoretical Physics.
It’s an impressive
town, beautiful and slightly amusing, seemingly very much at ease living inside
its own bubble while having the eyes of the scientific world on it at the same
time.
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