I realize at this point that I've done very little in the way of describing my daily life here in Oxford. Sadly, it's not all extravagant adventures to fabulous locations around these parts. I am, after all, here to "study" abroad. And as much as I would like to say that I explore the city every day and head out to the pubs every night, such cannot possibly be the case in Oxford. I feel like I've managed to establish an equilibrium in my activities though, and feel relatively balanced between work and play. So I apologize to those who will find this boring (and perhaps recommend skimming), but I'll share more about my classes.
My program (about which I'll share more later), although not a college of Oxford in and of itself, was founded by an Oxford alum to be something of an intermediary between the old-fashioned Oxford system and American students. On this principle, the program is comprised entirely of American students (who might provide at least some familiarity in a foreign setting), but is built upon an Oxford education system. I will take four classes in my stay here, much akin to back at Olaf. However, none of them follows exactly the same subject. The Oxford school year is divided into three terms: Michelmas, Hilary, and Trinity, each of which lasts eight weeks. Michelmas doesn't start until mid-October, and Trinity doesn't conclude until mid-June. We are now in the midst of Hilary term. As I said, each term is eight weeks long, numbered 1st through 8th (that's how they refer to everything over here, i.e. today is Sunday of 2nd week). However, there are optional weeks on either end, named 0th and 9th week respectively. Normally, 0th week is dedicated to what the Oxford students call "Collections," which are essentially recap exams of everything they learned in the previous term. Wouldn't you love to do that your first week back from break? Apparently, they're required to wear their gowns for these exams (they basically look like graduation gowns). One of the students looked appalled when I informed him that many of us show up to finals in pajamas.
As for classes, I have two tutorials, one seminar, and one integral lecture. Tutorials are where I am one-on-one with my tutor, seminars are much like they are at Olaf (about 10 people in a discussion based class), and the integral is like a traditional lecture. This is where it gets confusing. My tutorials run 1st-8th week, following the standard term calendar. So that's eight meetings, once a week. My seminar runs 0th-9th week, following the extended term calendar. So ten weeks for that one, meeting once a week. You may notice that that would mean I'm finished with class by mid-March. Well, kind of. The integral is special, since it doesn't follow traditional Oxford teaching methods. Essentially, our integral course hasn't yet started. Rather, we save that for the last month of class, once the tutorials and seminars are completed, roughly mid-March to mid-April. However, between now and then, we still have fortnightly (once every two weeks) lectures on Monday nights, as well as fortnightly (on alternate weeks of the lectures) colloquiums. Confused yet? It took us awhile to wrap our heads around the schedule.
My first tutorial is called 19th century novel. I made the mistake of saying 19th century lit to my tutor on our first meeting and she quickly reprimanded me. I won't make that mistake again. The class focuses, as you may have astutely guessed, on novels of the 19th century. At our first meeting, my tutor gave me a list of ten potential authors, and appropriate novels from which I might form my reading list for the term. The list, in order, is: Austen's Emma, Gaskell's Cranford, Thackeray's Vanity Fair, C. Bronte's The Professor, Eliot's Middlemarch, E. Bronte's Wuthering Heights, and Dickens's Bleak House (which we'll cover in two weeks). Yeah, a little daunting. All in all, just shy of 4000 pages of primary reading, not to include all of the secondary material I need to wade through. You see, for every weekly meeting, I need not only have read the primary text, but also have written a research paper, 6-8 pages long. I then bring two copies of the paper to my tutorial and read it out loud to my tutor while she reads along in her own copy, making notes in the margin, scratching entire paragraphs out furiously, etc. It is more than a little intimidating. The rest of the hour and a half is spent discussing my various flaws as a writer and a researcher. I had my first encounter last week, and I will admit, that it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. It's certainly a humbling experience, but I enjoyed the discussion nonetheless. There's something incredible about having to defend your work to someone else. And the beauty of the system is that I never feel like I'm doing "busy work." Everything I read, write, etc. has a very specific purpose, and I find that encouraging.
My second tutorial was a little late getting started (I sometimes question how ordered everything is around here) because they didn't have a tutor assigned to me for the first week. But the class is of a philosophical nature and is titled Ethics and the Good Life. We will be covering the ideas of Aristotle, Aquinas, Hume, and Kant, two weeks per author. I just finished my paper on Aristotle's idea of intelligence, and have to defend it to my tutor tomorrow. Keep your fingers crossed! My tutor is actually new to the job (as opposed to my other tutor, who is a seasoned veteran), still a graduate student actually. I've no idea if that will play to my advantage or not, but again, I'm remaining hopeful. This tutorial follows the same format as the other, in that I must read some primary text by whichever philosopher we're studying that week and then compose a research paper on some prompt given by my tutor. If you've done the math, you've realized by this point that, in just these two classes, I will have written 16 6-8 page papers (and with my verbosity, you know they'll all be nearly 8 pages) by the end of the first portion of our term, no less than 128 pages of writing. I don't think I'll ever be afraid of an Olaf research paper again. I've made it through the first 24 of those, so I'm on my way!
My seminar is on Shakespeare, and is a bit of a breather from the stress of the tutorials. We read a play a week for each of the ten weeks, and then simply meet to discuss. No papers. Whew. The list is: Twelfth Night, Measure for Measure, Hamlet, Othello, King Lear, Antony and Cleopatra, Pericles or Timon of Athens (yet to be decided), Cymbeline, Winter's Tale, and The Tempest. No worries if some of those names are foreign. I'll confess I hadn't heard of some of them either. The class essentially builds up to a final research paper (only 12-16 pages, child's play), which is worth 80% of our grade. I guess I'll work hard on that one. I've actually already determined I'm going to write it on Hamlet, and I'm busy gathering materials to write it, seven weeks in advance! In addition to the readings and the paper, we've been split into groups, each of which will give a twenty minute presentation of a play at the beginning of class.
So that's my class schedule, at least until March. We're also doing fortnightly readings for the integral course, but those aren't nearly as exciting. As you can imagine, it's a little different from back home. I spend only about six hours in class each week. That's it. Yet, I generally utilize every spare second of the day for work. Time management is a necessity if you want to stay on top of things. Thankfully, I have managed time well thus far, and that's allowed me to enjoy a few nights out of the week, and maybe head out on a little excursion on Saturdays.
Yesterday, I explored some of Oxford. A group of us picked a random direction on the map, and just walked down the street, detouring down any road that seemed to offer promise of sights and/or historical locations. We walked through Christ Church, which is probably the grandest of the colleges here. The cathedral was absolutely breath-taking, built sometime in the late 12th century. And we stood just outside (sadly, the interior was closed) the dining hall, which was the location used for the Great Hall in the Harry Potter films.
So yes, I am indeed settling down for a full three months here. The "summer camp" phase, as we've all been referring to it around here, has worn off, and the semi-permanence of our situation has sunk in. We're all realizing that we live here now, and we're fashioning for ourselves lives that reflect our goals, our joys, and our hopes. It's a pretty exciting time. Sorry for the cheesy ending, you guys don't deserve that. But I hope everyone continues to do well. Let me know how life's treating you if you get a chance! I'll always respond. Cheers!
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Miles and miles...
A discussion of the academic life of Oxford wouldn't be appropriate without a mention of the endless stacks of books at our disposal. I have been in the vicinity of millions upon millions of texts in just the past three days alone. It's all quite staggering. My first encounter was with the world-renowned bookshop Blackwell's, which is a mere two blocks away. The store spans four stories, housing texts that cover every subject imaginable, as well as a convenient used book section. This is not to mention the basement of the building, which allegedly contains three miles length of stacks. You walk into this massive room and are overwhelmed by the sheer volume of print.
The afternoon of our visit, my friends and I were so unfortunate as to be seeking a very specific, rare text for one of our courses, Pico della Mirandola's oration On The Dignity of Man. We began our search in some of the upper levels, checking literature, classics, the usual. No luck. We then proceeded to the epic basement, where we were sure it would reside on the shelves of the philosophy section. Searches proved futile. We moved from there to politics, history, even law. Nada. Those of you who know me well understand that I am quite loathe to ask for help. Well, I may have made a slight exception in this case. Please don't hold that against me. A kind fellow was able to point us to the correct floor (2nd), but could provide no further information, other than that it was indeed in stock. We set about with renewed vigor, marching up to the second floor gallantly. However, ten minutes' search in that vicinity also yielded nothing. Again, we were forced to admit the need for aid. Finally, we discovered its hiding spot, squeezed into the the medieval literature section. Of course. Why hadn't we checked there first? We had entered the store with nearly an hour and a half before our next obligation. We had to rush back to St. Michael's Hall in order to make it on time. From now on, I think we'll reserve texts ahead of time before going to Blackwell's.
Our next adventure followed only a day after, leaving us little time to recover. On Tuesday, we toured the Bodleian library, which is the central Oxford University library. You may know that Oxford University is really not much of an institution unto itself, but is split into just under forty smaller colleges, all of which collectively make up Oxford. My program, CMRS, is affiliated with St. Peter's College, one of the smaller of the constituent colleges of Oxford University. Each college has its own individual library for its use. These house modest collections, appropriate to the number of undergraduates enrolled in the college. But there is a massive, collective library that is available to all of the colleges, and that is the Bodleian. It is the 2nd largest library in the UK, housing purportedly ten to twelve million books, and growing by two to five thousand a week! Naturally, these aren't all just lying around, ready for you to dig through. Only about 10% of them are on display. The others are housed in the "stacks," meaning in underground vaults. If you need them, you have to call them up over the computer, and wait for them to be retrieved, a process which can take anywhere from 2 hours to a full week, depending on the location of the text. It is a reference library only, meaning that it doesn't lend. They told us that Charles I was stationed in Oxford once with his troops, and when he requested to borrow a book from the Bodleian, he was promptly denied. These people mean business. Only Oxford students are allowed to use the library. We were given a list of over thirty rules and regulations to agree to before we signed a pledge and were given our library cards, gaining us admittance to any one of the twenty buildings that make up the Bodley complex. We're not allowed to take any pictures inside the library, but I'll see if I might sneak a few. I don't know if I'm even allowed to be talking about this! It's a different world... But you'll be happy to know that I am using my privileges to the fullest, and was reading eagerly at a desk carrel in the upper reading room early this morning, gaining access to the place only after scanning my card to enter and having my bag checked for any illicit (lighters and other makers of flame being their key worry - wouldn't want anyone burning those books!) substances.
But it's not only miles of books that I'm seeing around here. The miles of Oxford itself have been flying by as well. On Sunday, we toured the Tower of London as a group. We all packed in a tour bus with our CMRS-appointed guide (an archaeologist whose name is ironically Dr. Jones) and drove through the scenic streets of Oxford, out into the English countryside, and into the madness of London. The Tower itself is incredible. Originally a fort on the Thames, it was strengthened by William the Conqueror in 1066 as his seat of power. The Tower, as our incredible yeoman warder guide (apparently they don't appreciate the title "beefeater," and can't even properly explain its origins), is, first and foremost, a palace and a fortress. They just happened to have kept over three thousand prisoners there. But throughout the day, we sat within the vicinity of the bones of Anne Boleyn and Sir Thomas More, gazed at 15th century graffiti on one of the tower walls (inscriptions and drawings made by prisoners during their stay), and stood in the chapel where Henry VIII married Catherine of Aragon. Incredible.
I've also been covering miles by foot, walking all around town and running in the mornings. This morning, I got onto one of the main thoroughfares of Oxford, St. Aldate's Street (which dates back to pre-tenth century!), and decided to see how far I could go. I cruised past Christ Church (the most well-recognized of the Oxford colleges, although apparently it's against Oxford decorum to call it "Christ Church College"), over the Thames, through all of the college district, into the residential area, and finally out into the English countryside. I finally turned back when I reached the entry ramp onto the freeway between Oxford and London. The sights have been incredible. I think my favorite was running past a sheep pasture covered in fog. Somehow, I just can't find a comparable sight in Arizona.
Classes have started up, but the system is a tad too complicated to elaborate upon this evening. I will instead finish with some pictures of my journeys thus far. More to come later! Keep in touch! I've loved hearing about everything back home!
I arrive at Heathrow!
The familiar lions of Trafalgar Square.
A statue in a frozen fountain in Trafalgar. That's the National Gallery in the background.
A view from the Thames outside the National Theater. You can see the dome of St. Paul's in the distance.
Katherine and I at Avenue Q. We tried to get the Q backdrop in the back, but my photography skills failed yet again.
The afternoon of our visit, my friends and I were so unfortunate as to be seeking a very specific, rare text for one of our courses, Pico della Mirandola's oration On The Dignity of Man. We began our search in some of the upper levels, checking literature, classics, the usual. No luck. We then proceeded to the epic basement, where we were sure it would reside on the shelves of the philosophy section. Searches proved futile. We moved from there to politics, history, even law. Nada. Those of you who know me well understand that I am quite loathe to ask for help. Well, I may have made a slight exception in this case. Please don't hold that against me. A kind fellow was able to point us to the correct floor (2nd), but could provide no further information, other than that it was indeed in stock. We set about with renewed vigor, marching up to the second floor gallantly. However, ten minutes' search in that vicinity also yielded nothing. Again, we were forced to admit the need for aid. Finally, we discovered its hiding spot, squeezed into the the medieval literature section. Of course. Why hadn't we checked there first? We had entered the store with nearly an hour and a half before our next obligation. We had to rush back to St. Michael's Hall in order to make it on time. From now on, I think we'll reserve texts ahead of time before going to Blackwell's.
Our next adventure followed only a day after, leaving us little time to recover. On Tuesday, we toured the Bodleian library, which is the central Oxford University library. You may know that Oxford University is really not much of an institution unto itself, but is split into just under forty smaller colleges, all of which collectively make up Oxford. My program, CMRS, is affiliated with St. Peter's College, one of the smaller of the constituent colleges of Oxford University. Each college has its own individual library for its use. These house modest collections, appropriate to the number of undergraduates enrolled in the college. But there is a massive, collective library that is available to all of the colleges, and that is the Bodleian. It is the 2nd largest library in the UK, housing purportedly ten to twelve million books, and growing by two to five thousand a week! Naturally, these aren't all just lying around, ready for you to dig through. Only about 10% of them are on display. The others are housed in the "stacks," meaning in underground vaults. If you need them, you have to call them up over the computer, and wait for them to be retrieved, a process which can take anywhere from 2 hours to a full week, depending on the location of the text. It is a reference library only, meaning that it doesn't lend. They told us that Charles I was stationed in Oxford once with his troops, and when he requested to borrow a book from the Bodleian, he was promptly denied. These people mean business. Only Oxford students are allowed to use the library. We were given a list of over thirty rules and regulations to agree to before we signed a pledge and were given our library cards, gaining us admittance to any one of the twenty buildings that make up the Bodley complex. We're not allowed to take any pictures inside the library, but I'll see if I might sneak a few. I don't know if I'm even allowed to be talking about this! It's a different world... But you'll be happy to know that I am using my privileges to the fullest, and was reading eagerly at a desk carrel in the upper reading room early this morning, gaining access to the place only after scanning my card to enter and having my bag checked for any illicit (lighters and other makers of flame being their key worry - wouldn't want anyone burning those books!) substances.
But it's not only miles of books that I'm seeing around here. The miles of Oxford itself have been flying by as well. On Sunday, we toured the Tower of London as a group. We all packed in a tour bus with our CMRS-appointed guide (an archaeologist whose name is ironically Dr. Jones) and drove through the scenic streets of Oxford, out into the English countryside, and into the madness of London. The Tower itself is incredible. Originally a fort on the Thames, it was strengthened by William the Conqueror in 1066 as his seat of power. The Tower, as our incredible yeoman warder guide (apparently they don't appreciate the title "beefeater," and can't even properly explain its origins), is, first and foremost, a palace and a fortress. They just happened to have kept over three thousand prisoners there. But throughout the day, we sat within the vicinity of the bones of Anne Boleyn and Sir Thomas More, gazed at 15th century graffiti on one of the tower walls (inscriptions and drawings made by prisoners during their stay), and stood in the chapel where Henry VIII married Catherine of Aragon. Incredible.
I've also been covering miles by foot, walking all around town and running in the mornings. This morning, I got onto one of the main thoroughfares of Oxford, St. Aldate's Street (which dates back to pre-tenth century!), and decided to see how far I could go. I cruised past Christ Church (the most well-recognized of the Oxford colleges, although apparently it's against Oxford decorum to call it "Christ Church College"), over the Thames, through all of the college district, into the residential area, and finally out into the English countryside. I finally turned back when I reached the entry ramp onto the freeway between Oxford and London. The sights have been incredible. I think my favorite was running past a sheep pasture covered in fog. Somehow, I just can't find a comparable sight in Arizona.
Classes have started up, but the system is a tad too complicated to elaborate upon this evening. I will instead finish with some pictures of my journeys thus far. More to come later! Keep in touch! I've loved hearing about everything back home!
I arrive at Heathrow!
The familiar lions of Trafalgar Square.
A statue in a frozen fountain in Trafalgar. That's the National Gallery in the background.
A view from the Thames outside the National Theater. You can see the dome of St. Paul's in the distance.
Katherine and I at Avenue Q. We tried to get the Q backdrop in the back, but my photography skills failed yet again.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
The starry-eyed traveler
Three days into this, and I've already had my first big trip. I journeyed from Oxford down to London yesterday to visit Katherine Atchison on her birthday, and to do a little sight-seeing of my own. I'll admit that there was some anxiety on my part, planning out the whole travel. I can't claim to have ever done something similar so independently. But at 9:30 yesterday morning, I set out from St. Michael's Hall and walked the streets of Oxford to the rail station, which is thankfully only about ten minutes away. The gentleman behind the ticket booth was a real aid in the process. He set me up not only with my train ticket from Oxford to Paddington station, but also with a time-unspecified return ticket and a day pass for the tube, both of which were crucial. I then boarded the train and was off!
The ride there was interesting. The trip itself was quick, only about an hour, owing to the fact that we only stopped at two stations (one was Reading! Monopoly anyone?). But the views outside the window were fascinating. I watched as the tranquil scenes of sheep and fields transformed rather suddenly into those of skyrises and graffiti. Somewhat unsettling. It was also sad to see the condition of the buildings in the area surrounding the rail as we approached Paddington. It served as a reminder that London isn't all glitz and glamour, that people in fact eke out a living here just as elsewhere. It was humbling.
But I was caught up in the thrill of the experience from there on out. Paddington is enormous. The station ceiling is probably a hundred feet overhead, and there are at least ten platforms all crowded under that same roof. Thus began my starry-eyed traveler phase, as I knocked into several people walking along because I couldn't keep my eyes in front of me. I made my way from there to the tube station, where I mapped out my route from there to Leicester (pronounced Lester, as only the Brits can do) Square.
One of the first neat things about London is its dedication to the arts. The tube stations are littered with posters for plays and musicals going on in the city, of which there must be more than thirty at any one time. This is staggering to the Phoenix-bred boy who knows of only two or three theatres in the area. The same applies to the museum, of which there are a multitude, almost all of which are free! Another great thing about London would have to be the tube. It goes everywhere, it's quick, and efficient, and overall fun to do.
But I made my way to Leicester Square, where there is a half-price ticket booth for shows. The place is jam-packed with people, since the area surrounding it is roped off for pedestrians. Katherine and I had been hoping to see Les Miserables, but weren't able to get tickets, it being the weekend and all. I did manage, however, to find two for Avenue Q. I had two hours to kill from there before meeting Katherine and her class at the theatre, so I walked over to Trafalgar Square (conveniently close), did the old tourist bit with the camera, and headed into the National Gallery, which is a phenomenal museum right there (and free, which works perfectly for me). In the hour and a half I was there, I didn't even make it out of the Renaissance section.
From there, I headed across the Thames to the Royal National Theatre, where I was meeting the London theater class from Olaf to see a play titled August: Osage County. While wandering along the banks of the Thames, I'm afraid I was again caught staring blankly around me, trying to comprehend where exactly I was. The whole experience was a tad surreal. From where I was, I could see St. Paul's Cathedral far across the Thames. Unfortunately, it wasn't exactly the most ideal day for sight-seeing, with an extensive cloud covering that lasted the entire day and allowed through very little sunlight, as well as a temperature touching the freezing point. The fountains in Trafalgar were frozen over! But that made it all the better to go inside and enjoy some prime drama. The play itself was incredible, highly recommended if you ever get the chance, although pretty intense, so make sure you're in the mindset. Also, it was a full three and a half hours, complete with two intermissions. But it was done with apparently the original Chicago cast, one of which won a Tony for her performance. A personal highlight was seeing the boss from Office Space on stage. After the marathon drama, we headed out and walked across the Thames at night, looking out at the lights of all the buildings along the waterfront. We took the tube back to Leicester Square, the area where Avenue Q was playing. We grabbed some dinner at a little Italian restaurant around there, and headed inside for the production. Neither of us had seen it before, and I don't know if either of us was entirely prepared for the spectacle, but we were both laughing hard throughout.
After the show, I dropped Katherine off at Baker Street and headed back to Paddington station to make the last train back to Oxford. I was somewhat alarmed to look up at the departures board and not see any trains to Oxford. Apparently, they were doing engineering work on the rail between there and my station, and had to cut the journey short. I was notified, thankfully, that a bus service would take me from the last stop on the train to Oxford. So, although the return journey was much longer than the one to London, I made it back safely to Oxford around one this morning.
Today, I'll be back in London (tough life) to tour the Tower of London with my class. I believe my starry-eyed ways may come back into play. But all continues well here in Oxford. On Friday, we spent the day going through more practical orientation stuff. One major focus is fire, which makes sense in a building so old. We even had a practice fire drill. We also hit the town that night to tour the local pubs, and got a good taste of the Oxford nightlife. More on all the activities around here later. I hope all is well back home!
The ride there was interesting. The trip itself was quick, only about an hour, owing to the fact that we only stopped at two stations (one was Reading! Monopoly anyone?). But the views outside the window were fascinating. I watched as the tranquil scenes of sheep and fields transformed rather suddenly into those of skyrises and graffiti. Somewhat unsettling. It was also sad to see the condition of the buildings in the area surrounding the rail as we approached Paddington. It served as a reminder that London isn't all glitz and glamour, that people in fact eke out a living here just as elsewhere. It was humbling.
But I was caught up in the thrill of the experience from there on out. Paddington is enormous. The station ceiling is probably a hundred feet overhead, and there are at least ten platforms all crowded under that same roof. Thus began my starry-eyed traveler phase, as I knocked into several people walking along because I couldn't keep my eyes in front of me. I made my way from there to the tube station, where I mapped out my route from there to Leicester (pronounced Lester, as only the Brits can do) Square.
One of the first neat things about London is its dedication to the arts. The tube stations are littered with posters for plays and musicals going on in the city, of which there must be more than thirty at any one time. This is staggering to the Phoenix-bred boy who knows of only two or three theatres in the area. The same applies to the museum, of which there are a multitude, almost all of which are free! Another great thing about London would have to be the tube. It goes everywhere, it's quick, and efficient, and overall fun to do.
But I made my way to Leicester Square, where there is a half-price ticket booth for shows. The place is jam-packed with people, since the area surrounding it is roped off for pedestrians. Katherine and I had been hoping to see Les Miserables, but weren't able to get tickets, it being the weekend and all. I did manage, however, to find two for Avenue Q. I had two hours to kill from there before meeting Katherine and her class at the theatre, so I walked over to Trafalgar Square (conveniently close), did the old tourist bit with the camera, and headed into the National Gallery, which is a phenomenal museum right there (and free, which works perfectly for me). In the hour and a half I was there, I didn't even make it out of the Renaissance section.
From there, I headed across the Thames to the Royal National Theatre, where I was meeting the London theater class from Olaf to see a play titled August: Osage County. While wandering along the banks of the Thames, I'm afraid I was again caught staring blankly around me, trying to comprehend where exactly I was. The whole experience was a tad surreal. From where I was, I could see St. Paul's Cathedral far across the Thames. Unfortunately, it wasn't exactly the most ideal day for sight-seeing, with an extensive cloud covering that lasted the entire day and allowed through very little sunlight, as well as a temperature touching the freezing point. The fountains in Trafalgar were frozen over! But that made it all the better to go inside and enjoy some prime drama. The play itself was incredible, highly recommended if you ever get the chance, although pretty intense, so make sure you're in the mindset. Also, it was a full three and a half hours, complete with two intermissions. But it was done with apparently the original Chicago cast, one of which won a Tony for her performance. A personal highlight was seeing the boss from Office Space on stage. After the marathon drama, we headed out and walked across the Thames at night, looking out at the lights of all the buildings along the waterfront. We took the tube back to Leicester Square, the area where Avenue Q was playing. We grabbed some dinner at a little Italian restaurant around there, and headed inside for the production. Neither of us had seen it before, and I don't know if either of us was entirely prepared for the spectacle, but we were both laughing hard throughout.
After the show, I dropped Katherine off at Baker Street and headed back to Paddington station to make the last train back to Oxford. I was somewhat alarmed to look up at the departures board and not see any trains to Oxford. Apparently, they were doing engineering work on the rail between there and my station, and had to cut the journey short. I was notified, thankfully, that a bus service would take me from the last stop on the train to Oxford. So, although the return journey was much longer than the one to London, I made it back safely to Oxford around one this morning.
Today, I'll be back in London (tough life) to tour the Tower of London with my class. I believe my starry-eyed ways may come back into play. But all continues well here in Oxford. On Friday, we spent the day going through more practical orientation stuff. One major focus is fire, which makes sense in a building so old. We even had a practice fire drill. We also hit the town that night to tour the local pubs, and got a good taste of the Oxford nightlife. More on all the activities around here later. I hope all is well back home!
Friday, January 9, 2009
Journeys
Let's preface this by saying that I did make it here safely and without any danger or significant delay. That said, the trip to Oxford was not without its minor quirks. Thankfully, no flights were delayed. With all the craziness of world weather the past several weeks, delays were my main concern. I left from Phoenix at 10:30 Wednesday morning for Detroit. The flight crew was excessively happy, which was slightly offsetting, but a welcome start to the journey. The man sitting next to me seemed set to prevent me from looking out the window. Every time I would lean forward to see outside it, he would follow my movement and block my view. For all you Chaparral grads, I'm almost positive I saw Lauren Pont on the flight. No words were exchanged. In Detroit, I had an hour lay-over before leaving for Heathrow, during which time I made my final calls stateside and was asked to fill out a survey on pandemic flu. The flight to London itself was, as you can imagine, long. I think we were only in the air a little over 7 hours, but the lengthy de-icing beforehand (nearly an hour!) and the taxiing before and after took its toll. There were a few ill-behaved children in my vicinity, but they managed to quiet down after dinner. I tried unsuccessfully to fall asleep for nearly three hours before I finally gave up. We finally touched down at 7 in the morning, London time, 12 back home. After landing, we had to go through customs and immigration. Thankfully, the line for the "other passports" line was shorter than that for the "UK/EU" line, so I breezed right through there. After getting my bags, I stuck around the baggage reclaim (their term for it) to wait for Kenzie Huffman, the other student from St. Olaf in my program, to arrive. We met up, got her bags, and headed out into the main terminal to investigate public transport options. We knew what shuttle to take to Oxford, but weren't sure the best way to get to it, seeing as how Heathrow is immensely complex. We eventually found the right shuttle to take us to the proper terminal, and arrived a minute before the next scheduled Oxford shuttle. Perfect timing! We were promptly criticized for our pronunciation of Gloucester by the shuttle driver, but he admitted us regardless. The ride here was uneventful. I tried again to fall asleep, and was again thwarted. I abandoned my plans and resorted to listening to The Who (how perfect) while gazing at the passing countryside, which was shrouded in early morning mist, and partly obscured by a sparse blanket of snow. My first impression of the city was how much bigger it was than I had anticipated. I had expected a town, a few residential districts surrounding the university centre. But we drove approximately a half hour through Oxford to get to our stop. Even discounting heavy traffic and several stops along the way, it was still a lengthier journey than I had expected. My second impression, as we wended our way further into the city, was how fascinating the architecture was. An ultra-modern structure, comprised only of steel and glass, can be found directly adjacent to an ancient brick or stone building dating back centuries. The whole city is this strange hodgepodge of new and old. We finally arrived at the bus stop at Gloucester Green and met a representative from CMRS (the program), who escorted us from the bus station, through the streets and squares of Oxford, including a flea market, to Shoe Lane and St. Michael's Hall, my new residence. I will go into more detail about the building itself, which is a strange honeycomb of eclectic taste, style, and design. I was the first to arrive in my room (my roommate, Demetre, didn't arrive until that afternoon), so I helped myself to the choicest of the beds and closets. After unpacking a bit, Kenzie and I headed out to explore the city a little. Fortunately, we had a map along, which helped us get un-lost on a couple different occasions. I'm still unfamiliar with the area, and get turned around every time I step foot outside the building, but I'm learning. I facilitated the process by going on my first exploratory run last evening (the boys from bigo will be happy to know) and saw Oxford by night. The city is beautiful, and I can't wait to see more of it. I wish the best of luck to each of you in whatever you're doing at the moment. If you get a chance, drop an email. I'd love to hear about how everything's going back in the states as classes pick up again and whatnot. For those of you who have expressed concern, fear not, I'm working on the English accent, and have some excellent guides to assist in the process. It will come in time. Be well!
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