Exploring the Cambridge Schools of Thought

Each year, at some golden moment, I yearn to go back to school. The school I want to go back to now is Cambridge, where I spent a few winsome days, steeped in English tradition.

The first thing I learned is that a car is a hindrance in the old, cobbled heart of the town. Lanes are narrow. Parking is impossible. The best thing about my hotel--the University Arms--turned out to be its garage.

Students and other locals ride bicycles with deep wicker baskets and ever-ringing bells. It’s tough to find a place to lock up a bike. Warning signs are posted in front of shops and college greens:

“Bicycles must NOT be placed against bollards or chains or lampposts. If found there, they will be removed.--Saint Catherine’s College.”

For three days I explored the colleges by foot, strolling through hidden gardens and broad open spaces, including mighty Jesus Green. I talked with helpful porters at each college gate, and learned which dining halls and libraries welcomed visitors.

I bought wine at a shop called Bottoms Up, whose enormous stock ranged from rare Bordeaux to bargain Aussie whites.

My favorite wine--to read about--was the German Piesporter Michelsberg: “a punting wine,” according to the shop label. Piesport is a village on the Moselle river, which might explain the connection.

Punting on the River Cam is an old tradition, and, for most, a spectator sport.

You need strong arms and the balance of a surfer to hoist the long pole and guide the narrow, flat-bottomed boat while standing far aft. A year as a gondolier in Venice would be good preparation.

The water is not deep, but the currents are strong. The river is marked “No Swimming.”

From the arching Silver Street bridge, I looked down on some amiable successes, as well as some chaps who--for a few more pence-- should have hired a chauffeured punt. Especially since they were swigging from tall bottles of ale. Not a punting wine.

Below the bridge lies the Anchor pub and cafe, a rollicking place to play hooky on a sunny day. Another tempting riverside pub is the Mill, a block away down Laundress Lane.

Punts can be rented from Scudamore’s Boatyards, which is just a stroll from the prettiest hostelry in town: the Garden House Hotel on the riverbank, behind a screen of chestnut trees and weeping willows.

The Silver Street bridge overlooks an intricate wooden span called the Mathematical Bridge. This puzzle is attributed to Sir Isaac Newton, a Cambridge man of the 1600s, who is said to have designed it without using nails, bolts or dowels.

Years later, school officials took the bridge apart to see how it worked. They could not get it back together without resorting to nails. That’s the version of the bridge that is seen today, and the version of the tale that is heard at the Anchor.

What else did I learn at Cambridge?

I learned that the colleges are strewn in a vague horseshoe pattern and it is easier to explore them by starting at one end.

I began with Emmanuel College, the alma mater of John Harvard, who received a BA in 1632 and went on to found Harvard University and Cambridge, Mass.

In fact, a porter told me, of the first 100 university graduates who left England and settled in the “Colonies,” one-third were Emmanuel men.

I learned that the oldest college is Peterhouse, which received its charter in 1284. I learned that Trinity College is the largest; renowned poets, prime ministers, scientists and even Prince Charles studied there.

There are plentiful stories about the outrageous behavior of Lord Byron and his pet bear. From Trinity’s Great Court I listened as the quirky clock called “Great Tom” struck the hour at 5 p.m.--five low bells and then five high bells.

I admired the library designed by Sir Christopher Wren. Its stones seem infused with light.

I learned that the colors of Jesus College are crimson and black, which makes a distinguished college necktie.

I learned that access to the colleges is restricted during exams, which cover the month of May and lap into June. I learned that even when King’s College is closed to the public, you can visit its magnificent chapel by going through Clare Gate and down Infinity Lane.

I learned that there are two pleasant stops across the street from King’s College main gate: Sherratt and Hughes Book-Sellers, perhaps the oldest in Britain (a bookshop has stood on the site since 1581), and the Copper Kettle coffee house, where the dark chocolate layer cake is a winner.

I learned that John Milton went to Christ’s College, where the Master’s Lodge has a Tudor bay window framed by wisteria.

I learned that students of English architecture can get an eyeful at Cambridge: every style from Saxon to the most modern trend can be found.

Lovely Queen’s College, like an illuminated page from the 15th Century, has the greatest mass of Tudor buildings.

I learned that Gonville and Caius College is generally called Caius, which is pronounced “keys.” I learned that the famed May Week celebration actually takes place in June. I learned there is much more to learn.