How it looks & how I felt
After a nine hour flight that did indeed fly by (two good movies, a couple of half-assed-half naps, reading half of a chapter of my book, eating half a meal, and chatting to my seat neighbours for the last half hour), a two minute stop at customs (who knew it could be so easy to move to another country-only months of paperwork and preparation and not even a single question about purpose or plan! Irish/EU passport you were well worth the effort) & three busy train rides from Gatwick spanning almost seven hours, I arrived in Truro. It dawned on me how much easier it was than I thought; people at every step were so friendly & helpful, seemingly enjoying being a small part of the effort to get me where I was going. To help me arrive. The luggage seemed to become more and more lopsided and awkward the further into the trip I went. Maybe it was the near busted wheel, but whatever it wasn’t, It was a pain but doable, inducing a few knowing laughs or “been there” sighs. The gentleman from South Wales that I sat beside on the last leg of the train journey said “We do have shops here you know!” as he smiled and winked a cheerful “as if”. If only he knew what I didn’t bring!
Waiting for the last train in Truro. Fifteen minutes away is Penryn. And rest.
Where I’m staying temporarily while I search for a flat is on one of the oldest streets in the area. It’s a lovely little cottage down a lane off this street, very similar to the first place I lived in Ireland but more spacious, warmer & with a 3 floor layout, entering right into the kitchen/dining room, winding stairs to living room with one full wall of a stone fireplace, bedroom and bathroom with skylights, then a ladder to a little loft bedroom with tussled sheets from the last guest. I would’ve been happy enough to rent this place if they had decided to let it but that was not meant to be. While wandering the streets of Penryn & Falmouth I decide that I want to be closer to my appointed studio and campus in Falmouth, and after my time on quiet Mayne Island, I rather like the old world bustle of the town.
After days of searching online and walking the streets with eyes peeled for anything barely habitable, available and not floating (although I did check out a sailboat for sale -sans engine), I was rewarded with a free river boat cruise offered by the Falmouth Art Gallery. I joined a couple dozen artists and art enthusiasts for a two hour tour of the River Fal, my first introduction to the southern side of the interior Cornwall coastline. Gnarled oaks bend over and into the water and form a patchwork of velvety patterned rolling hills. Two five hundred year old castles, the cottage where Churchill signed a document that was surely very important, a chain ferry lyrically named the King Harry Ferry, some massive ships able to wait safely in from the English channel due to the depth of the estuary, a long narrow mussel farm with a legion of seagulls standing watch and a fine English bloke standing on the opposite shore, eager to greet us with his pure white back side were the scenes of note but I think it was the quality of light and several shapeless rainbows that captured my attention more than anything else.
And tomorrow I find out if I get the flat that I hope to live in for the next chunk of time. There, the views are spectacular, the address is completely unique, it is a block from my new studio and I cannot wait to have an empty slate of a place to be, to live, to adventure from. For now, I say goodnight, and think fondly of all of you.