Saffron Walden and the Dreaming Tree

This post is the Where are They Now? edition of my Cambridge experience. As I described earlier, someone set fire to my hostel on my first night in town. When I returned to the hostel the next day to find out about alternate accommodation, I was told that the nearest hostel was in Saffron Walden, a little town 40 minutes south of Cambridge.

Initially, I was disappointed to not be staying in the city center. Still, I did as I was told and hopped on board a bus bound for - what was the name again? Pulling into the town almost an hour later, I could not believe its beauty and its quaintness: the streets were steep and narrow, hedged on both sides by medieval-style thatched roof cottages and local shops. My hostel turned out to be the oldest inhabited building in the town, built in 1402. I'm afraid I must refer you to my photos (picasaweb.google.com/erinmwaller) to really see what that experience was like.

I was so enchanted by what I saw of the town from the bus that I immediately unpacked my running shoes to jog out and see more more. I haven't a single picture from this run, and yet it is this that I'll take from Saffron Walden. I headed out along the main road that leads into the town, pursuing the Audley End House, a manor house I'd mistook for a castle on the drive in: sweeping green grounds, a pond, stately yellow stone. Then it was all countryside - that vast English countryside with hills rolling on forever. I detoured (trespassed?) down one of the farm roads, cutting across fields and creeks and, at one point, a fence. I felt like I was in a Runners World's photo shoot: Rave Run in Saffron Walden. And all this blessing, all this green because my hostel caught on fire.

The title for this post comes from the DMB song by the same name, which I listened to for the first time on this run; along the way I saw a likely dreaming tree standing tall and alone in the middle of the field, with the sun setting behind it.