By Bryce Patterson
I arrived a little past dark in early January, 2014. The taxi ride to our apartments in the city center took us, a cluster of international students, through rainy streets, past rows of classic British duplexes, along pieces of the medieval wall that surrounded the original village, and down through cobblestone streets to our complex on the banks of the river Yar. It was too dark that night to see the spire of the cathedral, the iconic centerpiece of the city. Jet-lagged and exhausted by hours of travel, I crashed and burned within minutes of entering my apartment.
With my circadian rhythms several time zones behind my physical surroundings, I was up before the sun and shrugging on my rain jacket. Within an hour of exploration, I learned two things. One: always look upwards while walking. The glass store-fronts of much of the city are not especially awe-inspiring. Not awe-inspiring, that is, until you take the time to look up. That’s when you realize that the building that houses your grocery store predates the founding of the United States, often by hundreds of years. In Norwich, England, most things do. Thrift-shopping in the city is a religious experience for a history buff like me.