Dressed conservatively with billowing robes and hood, walking down the cobbled streets of Cambridge, past colleges that date back a few hundred years (or more), in a row with all the other graduates, I found myself thinking about this. Until I reached the central gathering point, where friends and family are gathered, and then I break the ranks to find my friends.

Formal dinners. Robes and hoods. Hoods of certain colours to depict certain achievements. Speeches in Latin. Kneeling, bowing (or curtseying). Flags proudly flying above each college. Photographers everywhere you look. Friends, family, strangers.

These are some of the sights of graduation.

In the speech, there is a part which translates to mean: this individual (who’s holding my finger) is a well-behaved, respectful, studious person and is fit to be admitted into this society. Really? Are you sure about that? Didn’t you see the time I feel off the punt into the river infront of all those German tourists? Didn’t you see our crazy parties on the lawn? Didn’t you see me run across the forbidden grass of some fancy college or climb up fire-escapes or speed through town on a bike with no helmet or lights or get a tattoo?

You’re sure? Well, alright then. Kneel, curtsey, exit into the world of Cambridge alumni.

(As much as I mock it for being a very expensive Harry Potter playground, which it is, it’s also an amazing experience and opportunity that I’ll treasure forever. Enough said)

It is the friends that has made this time back so smooth. It has been almost 10 months since I saw many of them, nearly as long as we have chatted, but it feels like no time has past. Do you have friends like that? The ones that you can pick up right where you left off the last time you met? Keep them! They’re invaluable.

The differences… well I find myself searching for them. When I arrived in Lilongwe, the differences were apparent: the sights, the smells, the people, the language, the culture… It was as though I was hit over the head with a board.

This transition is different. Instead of burning garbage and diesel fumes there are 4 types of recycling bins, frequent and conveniently placed next to the garbage bin. There are stop lights… that are obeyed. There are sidewalks… that are paved. And while the unfortunate fashion trend of short skirts and spandex leggings prevails, there is a general freedom of dress that I’m not entirely sure I missed. The changes are less apparent… partly because they don’t affront your sense at every turn… with the exception of British fashion.

It’s the little things. Obviously the scenery has changed, the food, the clothes, the toilets, but in the realm of human behaviours, it is remarkably similar. We still run across the road at every chance (unless you are uber-British). We still go to lectures for the free lunches afterwards (quoting Bill Brower).

It’s a fairy tale dream world of a place, but it’s nice to be back.