Tuesday, August 28, 2018

"Life's A Journey!": Why My Life's The Train From Cambridge To London

Train times are my favorite. There is the spot in the train to London with a table right by the window. Behind a closed door that doesn't open very often, you'll find the bathroom so refreshment is always close. While you are tenderly rocked in the moving train, the English countryside passes by. Summer or winter, that's a sight for lovers although East Anglia has three hills, if that. To top it all off, the table has a plug so you can literally bring your laptop along to do essential work - all while casually checking out the weirdest little places in the suburbs. In other words, this time on the trains is the perfect time to actually watch the journey, not just be on one. And when I say journey, I mean realizing the purpose, the tasks at hand, and possibly act upon them.

For me, that's writing time. I wrote my last letter to the guy who broke my heart from here and drafted my book outline on this very table. Sometimes, when the train isn't full, it's the perfect spot for meditation. Most people on this train to Liverpool Street are quite quiet. They're not going to the City because they want to. They come from places such as Bishop's Shortford and Cheshunt (yes, those are names of English places). They likely made their money in London and then sought a more simple life in the English countryside. That was my plan, too. Passing these villages reminds me of my exchange program in eighth grade when I spent time in Royal Tunbridge Wells, again a name of a British "city", and a few days in London. I marveled at the beauty, size, and excitement of the City. I knew then one day it'd be home. But what I wanted, in the long run, was the villages. The green. The quiet. So all I ever really wanted was the life of the people on this train.

This journey takes me along a lot of memories. I only got off at the first stop, Whittlesford Parkway, once. That night Richard and I went to a very fancy pub in the middle of nowhere. Considering the size of Whittlesford, this is the only memory to be made there. I had a very nice time that day and enjoyed a dose of Richard's terrible English chat before he would leave a couple of weeks after. And although I saw him every day for a year, I usually think of this pub when I think of Richard. It's nice to have that kind of memory. I would probably have enjoyed that fancy pub with another friend as well but I live well with passing Whittlesford on this train and remembering that fool. He was a big part of my Cambridge time anyways so it only makes sense...

Next stop is Audley End which I also remember well. On February 25, 2017, I passed it the first time. I had just landed at Stansted Airport with one suitcase containing everything I owned. The Stansted Express stopped at Audley End on its way to Cambridge, my new home. I took a picture of the sign, hoping I would never forget that the first town in England I ever saw had a name that could be taken straight out of a Harry Potter book. Audley End... Really? The greenery around it is amazing and not too far along the journey, there is a golf course. That, of course, is an entirely different memory. On my very first days in Cambridge, I developed the desire to go play golf. Not too long after, someone actually took me. Not too long after that, the dream of playing golf had become the dream of playing golf with him. An unattainable dream but something an above-average amount of time was spent thinking about. And just like the previous memory, going past it on this train journey and reflecting is maybe a little bit painful but also the ink in my pen.

After much more green, dozens more villages and a changing scenery from rural to urban, the train slowly runs into London Liverpool Street. I used to work five minutes away from there and was always excited to get off of the train to walk into that office. As a result, the surrounding area has become a place of excitement. Work, yes, but other than one individual I liked everything about my job. It was a life I never imagined but it filled me with pride to see the Gherkin and the Shard come closer from the train like I had in many a music video as a teenager. Only, now it was not a music video anymore; now that was my life. The Liverpool Street area this train now directs to is what my final destination is right now: a place of work, a new career, a comfortable place to make big things happen. Big things are easier made when surrounded by grandeur.

Maybe in the future, it won't be Liverpool Street but that feeling is still there: Getting closer to the city that has been my constant for over a decade. I have seen London come closer to me on trains, buses and planes. Only a month ago my plane was flying so low over Hyde Park I could see the art installations in it. The view never gets old as I look at my favorite city in the world. To call this train approaching the Skyline a dream come true is cheesy but it is true; this train materializes my current dream: taking me out of Cambridge, away from these memories, to realize what the English countryside cannot. I'm not bitter about the past; it brought me here and that's a good thing. But my positivity will have an end if I continue passing the places in which attempts were made to destroy this dream for me. One day soon I'm getting off this train without a ticket back. And then that's my life. Right now, it's this train.

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