escape

I finally made it; I thought I'd never would; not at least alone. Ever since I read Rebecca, Cornwall was only a fantasy to me. Ten years later I got a chance to be there. I had been in London since September and I was waiting for the summer to start so I could plan my trip. I kept postponing it for at the back of my head I was still nervous to go alone, but I knew this could have been my only chance. So I let my last-minute instinct take over and I booked myself a room in one of the BNBs, only for a night.

I reach Paddington late, as usual and managed to get a train leaving at noon, hoping to reach Truro by late afternoon and spending the rest of it at the cathedral. I grabbed my favourite hot chocolate and sat down, finding the best window seat. Now this the first thing I would say about England- even the train journeys are worth looking forward to. So far I had only managed to travel up north and this time, South west. The view was pleasing as usual with the green pastures and blah and blah. I fell asleep until I woke up finding myself in Devon. We reached a station in a cute little town with pastel coloured Georgian houses, small villas, and of course the town's church or maybe chapel. I sat on the right hand so I only faced that side, where slowly cliffs started to rise up. Because I can recognize the presence of the sea in an a second, I looked on the other side and saw the waves of the channel. It was long time no see for the two of us. I felt a feeling of awakening. Now this is how it was- green meadows or moor lands on my right, outlined by church spires, the sea on the other side and my train inbetween.

To make this a perfect start of fulfillment of a dream I reached the Tamar Bridge crossing the Tamar river. The bridge said Welcome to Cornwall with it's iconic black flag and emblem. I couldnt stop smiling. I was crossing a harbour with boats parked and roads twined all in the middle of hills.

I had to get off at Bodmin Parkway to change to another local train to go to Truro. After a 4 hour journey I reached a station literally in the middle of a forest, yup, I wouldnt say it was a station, just two platforms in the middle of the forest. All looked gorgeous in the long lasting sunshine of the summer. The horizon was a pack of trees lined to the hills. I barely saw anything or anyone except for the ticketmaster. After buying my ticket, I took the next train southbound to Truro. I reached St Austell just a couple of stops before where I had to go. St Austell, the station where one of Daphne du Maurier's character dies only because he was travelling in time. This was another town, a little more commercial than the ones I had passed in these few hours. After I passed the station, before reaching Par, my train passed through a huge golf course which was backed by the Atlantic Ocean. To add to the character of this scene the sky was conveniently overcast at that moment. I wish I could get off the train and run through this course and parallel to the shore.

I reached Truro finally, as late as 6 in the evening. Definately I wouldnt visit the cathedral, but, never mind. I found my BNB- Rowan's Tree House, on a hilltop overlooking the left and the centre of the city. As I entered and met the landlady, I realised I was about to spend the night in her 4 bedroom house and she was letting me one of her single bed rooms. Thankfully I had the best view, a top view of the city towered by the cathedral spire. But I quickly took off after checking in to take a walk in the city.

It was 6 and the city was dead! No one on the street except me and probably an old lady or two walked by with our ears blessed by the sound of the speeding cars once in a while. I took a walk among cobblestonned streets, downhill through tiny villas leading to the city centre. I reached a huge square, empty of course, branched by lanes so small that if there were many people we would have to walk in a line. I took one of these by-lanes and reached the cathedral towering me from the sky. I walked past it's side reaching another square which houses the main entrance of the monument (which was surprisingly so young for its beauty, built in 1920!). There on a bench a man sat there who saw me and asked in a funny accent "Excuse me, are you Spanish?" I smirked and shooked my head. I walked around the building downhill through St Mary's Street. I kept looking back taking my own pictures seeing the cathedral seeing me. A tall creature protecting the little beings around it. I reached a bridge crossing a canal, the lane twined and at every spot the Cathedral never took its eyes off me. There were antique shops after the bridge. Wall lamps, Georgian houses, the sound of the canal streaming below, of course the rustling of the leaves, the chirping of a soul or two in the distant and the loudest sound-the silence of the cathedral.

I continued walking through all the lanes in circles till I reached the river and took a walk along side it. There were a group of kids staring at me, the only brown face in their home. One side of me was the river turning, the other side of me was a road to the highway, behind was the city centre, the obvious spire, and in the distant was the bridge on which the train would pass before reaching Truro station, and which crossed the two hills over the valley. I headed back to the city centre going clockwise, reached another square, bigger where they have Wednesday markets and festivals, This time it was empty. I bought my water and yoghurt from the convenient store and headed back home. I slept after reading a few chapters from Castle Dor, looking out from my window on the left side of my bed, which overlooked the cathedral shining in bright yellow light; the only star in the dark of the city.