Homecoming ... Actually, Homegoing

I cannot believe how much time has passed since my last blog entry. So much has happened in that time: 4 countries, 8 cities, 10 planes, 15 buses, and numerous metro/tube/underground rides, to be exact. More elaboration on that in a later post (I know, that's what I said last time, but I mean it this time!).

I've still been writing - pages and pages in my journal filled with memories, conclusions (finally!), ponderings, revelations. I've finally figured out a lot of things about the kind of person I want to be and the kind of life I want to be. And I'm more at peace with myself than I have been in about two years. It's a great feeling.

That said (and done), I leave all this to go back to the good ol' USofA in less than 48 hours. Incredible. It flew by.

I'm done here. What an ... amazingbewilderingexcitingdepressing thing.

Home has been calling to me. The world has not stopped turning with my absence. I've been searching for summer jobs, figuring out housing for next year, applying for financial aid, registering for classes... It's so surreal to have been dealing with all of these more or less mundane things while I've been writing papers for my tutor at Oxford University, catching flights to France, etc.

Surreal is most definitely my word of choice for describing all this. It still doesn't seem real.

I have a life to return to and build, revelations and personal decisions to now put into practice. And I'm incredibly excited to do so.

But.

It's incredibly saddening to think that tomorrow is my last full day living here, to think that I will no longer wake up to my flatmates bustling about in the kitchen, to think that I will no longer have to wait 7 hours for one load of laundry, to think that I will no longer admire the Thames on my walk to the city centre, to think that I will no longer go to Sainsbury's for crumpets, chocolate bars, clementines, and 3 for 4 orange juice specials, to think that I will no longer walk up and down Cornmarket Street listening to the musicians strewn about and watching the man play his violin as he balances on a bike atop a tightrope, to think that I will no longer be able to stand in line at Moo-moo's debating over what flavor milkshake to purchase, to think that I will no longer come home and make dinner with my flatmates, to think that I will no longer be able to go to the Red Lion (a pub) with my friends, three of us sharing a pitcher of some ridiculously fruity drink, to think that I will no longer be sleeping without a top sheet, to think that all these small details that have composed my life for the last three and a half months will now be a thing of the past.

Beyond the schooling process (of which, in retrospect, I've grown rather fond), I'll miss the life I've built here. It was a life. This place has become home, a place I call my own. And I'm leaving it soon.

Back to reality, I suppose.

Bittersweet.

Fin.

At approximately 3:50 this afternoon, I completed my term at Oxford University.

I can't even describe the feeling. For the last five minutes or so my tutor and I discussed my work, what I've learned, the term in general. I told him about the things that really stood out in my memory (which I will discuss here later), how some of the things have affected my thinking about the world and my future, how I've been writing about them (journal entries, conversations with friends, blogs, etc.) ... at which point he exclaimed, "You've had time? Even with writing this much? I never wrote this much as an undergrad." At which point I wanted to smack him and ask why he made me do it. Anyway.

I have to say, it was totally worth it. I have learned so much, thought so much, read so much, written so much, grown so much. I have been pushed beyond my limits, had a few panic attacks (a new experience for me), been more frustrated with my academic life than ever before.

But I've come out the other end, absolutely exhausted, better for the experience.

Hopefully I'll have some time to blog tomorrow, but it's going to be a rather busy day - preparing for the travels. Deep breaths. I'll be keeping a journal of sorts while traveling, so I'll transfer some of that over to here once I'm in front of a computer again (which might not be for the next two weeks or so. But we'll see).

I can think of no other way to end this blog than this: :D

Activities.

A brief update about my activities over the past few weeks:

Our study abroad group went to Cambridge about two weeks ago. Have I mentioned Cambridge? Apparently not! Wow! Well, we went to Cambridge, toured the colleges, marveled at King's College Chapel, ate lunch at The Eagle pub (site of the realization of DNA, and also site of my first taste of mulled wine - delicious!), wandered over to the Round Church, took pictures of various colleges, and went up in a tower of one of the colleges' chapels (the name escapes me; I'll insert it when I remember), among other activities. I felt much more at ease in Cambridge than I do in Oxford. But don't tell anyone here that. I plan on looking into it for my graduate studies, in addition to Oxford.

We also went to Stratford-upon-Avon last Wednesday afternoon. My friends and I saw Shakespeare's birthplace, walked along the River Avon, saw where Shakespeare was buried, took the long trek to Anne Hathaway's cottage (not the actress, as many people needed to be reminded!), had dinner in a pub, and then were privileged enough to have tickets to see "King Lear" that night. It was incredible - seeing the place where that incredible literary mind was formed, and then seeing the products of it.

I am going to miss these little excursions - they were such fun!

I have bigger excursions ahead, though.

Planning my travels has been much more complicated than I originally thought. One must take into consideration not only method of travel and lodgings, but transportation to and from the airport and about town, places to dine, activities, laundry ... it's exhausting. Whenever I feel overwhelmed, though, I just stop and think about what I'm doing. Can't find a cheap flight from Ireland to France? Maria! You're going to France! Struggling to get in touch with hostel owners to confirm reservations? Maria! You're going to Scotland! And so on. It's amazing.

Besides those activities, I also went up to the top of the Magdalen tower on Friday. That. Was. Incredible. We (myself and a few other OSAP people who are studying at Magdalen) struggled to open the old, enormous door, and climbed over 140 winding stairs to reach the top. The entire city was sprawled out below me. I could see the Radcliffe Camera and the Bodleian, the rolling fields in the distance and the metropolis of the city centre. It was majestic. I, by the way, love heights, so this was a particularly exhilarating experience. I am still speechless about it.

Lastly, on Saturday, instead of being a productive student and writing my essay, I decided to get a taste of Oxford sports. My friend Corwin and I went to our friend's varsity rugby match against Cambridge. We, having failed to research the sport beforehand, had absolutely no idea what was going on. It's a fascinating sport, regardless of whether or not one knows what's going on. We then walked over to the Torpids (rowing, for those of you who don't know what the Torpids are). Rowing, I've decided, is my favorite sport. The way the boats glide through the water, propelled by arms working in perfect synchronization, a coherent unit of men or women completely in harmony with one another ... beautiful. I loved it.

And now I must finish this entry, as I have to get to my last Oxford University Student Chorus rehearsal before our concert tonight.

Cheers.

Homesick

So. All day today I've been homesick.

This is a new feeling for me. I don't get homesick. But, right now, I am incredibly homesick.

I want to get back to my life. The life where schoolwork, community service, clubs, and social life performed an intricate and painstakingly choreographed dance around one another. The life where I knew almost everyone I saw, where I had a place, where I was significant in one way or another.

I miss it.

I am definitely appreciating the time I have here, and getting far too excited about my future travels (this time next week, I will be in Scotland!). But still.

I want to climb the stairs to my dorm room, my footsteps echoing in the stairwell. I want to open my door, fling my things onto my desk, and drop heavily onto my green fuzzy chair and vent to Jillian about my day. I want to walk into a Bonner meeting, and be greeted with smiles and hugs. I want to meander through the campus, grinning broadly at everyone I know.

I want to make the drive to Daddy's house, key in the code to open the garage door, and be tackled by my exuberant chocolate lab. I want to bicycle through the community, trailing after my father. I want to to curl up on the leather couch to watch Antiques Roadshow with my father and stepmother, bowl of ice cream in hand and book at my side.

I want to be in Connecticut, lounging and watching television on my mother's king size bed, only to be pestered by our fat orange cat. I want to recline in the chair in the living room with my best friend on the couch, watching The Bachelorette. I want to make my way up the stairs to the room I have inhabited my entire life and fall into bed after a long day of work and seeing old friends.

I want to go home. Only problem is, I can't decide to which home I most want to go. I miss all three homes.

Homesickness, times three.

Household Names

Bear with me. This is long. And quite different from my other posts. But, it's an example of the kind of thinking Oxford has inspired within me, and therefore I considered it relevant to this blog.

I began my penultimate Oxford essay with numerous thoughts bouncing around in my head, something happened, and I felt the overwhelming urge to write about it. Okay. Now. Let's back up.

Penultimate Oxford essay: regarding Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness, which is a verbose and horridly, though quite subtly, prejudiced recollection of a British man's journey into the depths of Africa in the 19th century. I am to evaluate this short novel with the help of Chinua Achebe's article "An Image of Africa," found in volume 18 of "The Massachusetts Review," 1977.

Numerous thoughts: brought about by not only this article and the book itself, but also by several conversations held with a close friend of mine over the past few days, all in conjunction with my own considerations. I have been thinking about my future as a writer. I want to travel to various countries, namely impoverished or oft overlooked countries, and write about them in such a manner as to bring them to the forefront of Western consciousness, challenging common conceptions, and calling their present state into serious question. I've struggled with this ambition of mine for several weeks, mostly as a result of my post-colonial global literature tutorial. I questioned my right, not to mention my ability, to speak for a country, a people, a culture that I would see through the very lens I wish to challenge. My friend reassured me that, besides the fact that I will not necessarily be speaking for them but instead transmitting my own experiences and perceptions, that it is possible to at least partially rid myself of the biases and lenses that have been socially engrained within me. I will expound on this in a later post.

Anyway, let me get to what I'm getting at. This whole inner debate has also raised questions of how incredibly frustrating it is that post-colonial nations have such a difficult task ahead in finding and using the voice that has so long been smothered and meanwhile altered by colonialism. On top of this, people like Joseph Conrad have gone into these countries and subsequently written the aforementioned prejudiced books like Heart of Darkness, which are then accepted as reality not only by the inhabitants of the author's country and the readers in the developed world but also, eventually, by the people of that country themselves, as there will likely exist a paucity of their history told through their own eyes due to attempts at assimilation into Western culture by the colonists. What an absurd concept.

The event that occurred as I began my essay: I have been writing about numerous authors for the past two months, half British, half of varied nationality. I typed in the name "Joseph Conrad," as I have typed the names Ernest Hemingway, Charlotte Bronte, Mary Shelley ... and nothing happened. I typed in the name "Chinua Achebe," as I have typed in the names Salman Rushdie, Lu Hsun, Gabriel Garcia Marquez ... and the little red dots indicating a spelling error appeared on the screen.

It speaks volumes to me that authors like Ernest Hemingway and Charlotte Bronte are "significant" enough to have their last names automatically added to Microsoft Word's dictionary, but authors like Chinua Achebe and Salman Rushdie, who have done incredible work in speaking for those who cannot yet speak for themselves, challenging Western views and Western control, and standing against the floods that rushed forth in post-colonial times, are not "worthy" enough or "famous" enough to have been added to Microsoft's dictionary. Bullshit.

Needless to say, I moved my mouse over the red-underlined words. I right-clicked. I selected "Add to Dictionary."

They are significant enough for me. They, too, should be household names. So why aren't they?

One Week.

One week from today, my academic time at Oxford University will be over.

One week from today, I shall have no more assigned books to read, no more essays to write frantically, no more pages of notes cluttering my desktop, no more need to stay up all night - at least, not for academic purposes.

One week from today, my bag shall be packed in preparation for what may be the most insane and yet the most thrilling three weeks in my life thus far.

One week from today, I will be sitting here, moo-moo's milkshake in hand (yes, I am obsessed), reflecting on and writing copiously about my experiences, both academic and otherwise.

One week from today, I will have managed to perform in a concert at Oxford, finish my community service, return all the books currently scattered about my room, visit three or four more colleges here, and do all of the other things I have been meaning to do since I got here.

One week from today, I imagine that I will be in a temporary, yet blissful, state of utter peace.

One week.

More Rubbish.

Two posts in one day. I'm on a roll. This one will be extremely brief, I promise.

1. Today I went to moo-moo's, which is a milkshake stand within the Covered Market that sells over 200 varieties of milkshake and smoothie. I enjoyed a Ferrero Rocher milkshake this morning, and plan on indulging in a chocolate hobknob milkshake when my flatmate and I return later this afternoon. Two milkshakes in one day. Ah, bliss.

For your perusal: http://www.moo-moos.co.uk/index.htm

2. Sunday morning, my flatmates and I attended chapel at Magdalen. And it. Was. Beautiful. The choir, composed of about fifteen little boys and fifteen men from the college, created perhaps the most breathtaking music I have ever heard. Their rendition of Kyrie, with its haunting melody and dissonant harmony, literally brought me to tears. I don't know why I haven't gone more often. Will certainly be attending Evensong this Thursday.

3. As a result of the perpetually cloudy skies over my head and the winter clothing covering every inch of my flesh, my skin has turned the color of cream. Striking difference from the tan I've had for two years as a result of going to college in warm, sunny Florida. My tan lines have all disappeared, something I never thought would happen. Completely random and very superficial, but it was something I've noticed.

4. I did, however, luxuriate in the sunshine yesterday. It was about 50 degrees outside, with refreshingly sunny skies. I was at the library, had about twenty minutes until I had to leave for my service site, went up on the roof (where people often sit and chat, eat and smoke) to a little alcove, removed my woolen coat, and basked in the sunshine. It was divine.

Endings. And Beginnings.

I'm sitting in the Radcliffe Camera (famous library - google it!), reading sources for Thursday's essay (characterization and cultural critique in Death and the King's Horseman). And it just hit me. I'm almost done. I have three essays and three tutorials left, and then my time at Oxford will be over. The time that I spent two years dreaming out will be over. My time of study at one of the most prestigious universities in the world, with access to infinite academic resources, will be over.

I am so excited for it to be over, as the work has been incredibly intense and I am in serious need of a break, not to mention the fact that one week from Saturday I will be shipping off to Scotland. Yet, I am incredibly saddened by this imminent conclusion. It flew by. Seemed to take forever, but in retrospect, I feel like I've just begun the term ... and it's already over. I was just getting ahead on my work, but after next week there will be no work left. How very strange.

I will miss this time in my life. It has been a stepping stone for me, I've decided. Being financially independent, self-sufficient, in charge of my education, in charge of defining myself with people who have no idea who I was before I got here ... it has shown me that I am capable of living on my own, removed from my parents, removed from college. I have nothing to fear about the future, and the independence that that future will bring. I have learned here that I am completely capable of living my own life. Not that I ever really doubted it, but this experience has increased my self-confidence on the matter. How refreshing.

That said, this is also a turning point for me. I've grown up a lot since I've been here. This is the start of a new chapter in my life, the chapter in which I will no longer be a child but will begin the journey of adulthood. That sounds incredibly trite, but it's true. It's only a matter of time before I will take on the world with my idealism and passion.

I've begun thinking about graduate schools. I've begun thinking about a career. I've begun thinking about marriage. I've considered these things before, obviously, but they always seemed far off, a part of my life that I would never really reach. Now I know that these things are approaching quickly, that they will bring a new level of richness and color to my life, that I must prepare for them now.

I've also decided that what I've been learning in classes is not enough to satiate my desire for knowledge. I have learned to be an independent studier, to take charge of my own learning, to research things that interest me, to suck the knowledge out of books and people. Consequently, I've decided to augment my knowledge by studying economics, politics, history, architecture, religions, philosophy ... all independently. Hopefully with the help of some professors at my university who don't mind sitting down with a random student who wants to learn for the sake of learning. Regardless, I want to be ... well, like my tutor, who knows everything there is to know about everything, practically. The next few years in my life will be education overload. What a thrilling concept.

All that to say this: I am incredibly excited for the future. It will bring glorious things. But for now, I am going to buckle down, write this essay, enjoy our trip to Stratford-upon-Avon tomorrow, and cherish this last week and a half as a student at Oxford University.

Time for Reflection

I haven't written as frequently as I presumed I would, but it doesn't really seem as though there is much to say. I know some people would be absolutely fascinated by the everyday things going on (ahem, Mom), but it really is just an endless cycle of read, read, check Facebook, read, write, write, drink tea, walk, tutorial, walk, read, read, etc. Not very interesting. When I get to my travels the gaps between posts will be even farther, as I will be gone for long stretches of time without access to a computer.

Travel updates! I will be going to Scotland with two of my friends here for four days, coming back to Oxford to meet up with a friend who is studying in Spain, going to Ireland for four days with her, flying from Ireland to Paris, spending three days in Paris with those same two friends, flying to Nice, spending four days there, and finally flying back to London, where I will proceed to sleep for extended periods of time, wander around Oxford, visit the museums I've been meaning to visit for the past two months, etc. Then, I'll ship off to Seville around Easter time with the friend who accompanied me to Ireland, and then crash with her for a week or so in Madrid. Then, back to Oxford, packing, and back to the States.

Abbreviated trips to several places, so I won't get to see as much of them as I of course would like to. It was a difficult choice between going as many places as possible and really delving in to one or two places. Perhaps I should have done the latter (plane tickets are already purchased and plans already made), but I'm sure I will be able to soak up a lot in those few days, and have a whirlwind month of travel. I really can't wait.

I'll write another blog about academic reflections later, once I've concluded my tutorials. I do want to say a few things now, though. I have never been this challenged academically. It's a good feeling to struggle. Foreign, but good. I'm used to working hard for my grades, but that hard work comes easily, if that makes any sense. I breeze through the hard work and am none the worse for wear. Here, I struggle struggle struggle and continue to struggle. It's a different feeling - not having my professor think I've hung the moon. I know that sounds really arrogant, but I don't mean it that way. I'm used to excelling in school, with effort but feeling capable of handling that effort. It's what I'm good at. I'm doing well - approximating A- or B+, from what I understand of the Oxford grading system. And it's not like the work is that difficult (except for the poetry. Oh God, the poetry). I read simple texts, read criticisms, and write an essay about it. It's not that hard, when I think about it. Really it isn't. So I don't really understand why I'm struggling so much. I think I'm overwhelmed by the workload, since there is a lot of work crammed into a little bit of time. That's just how it is. But ... I don't know. It's hard. And I like that it's hard. I just have to get used to not being on top - it's a big world out there.

Going with that thread, this experience has been extremely humbling. The work I've done - both academically and otherwise - is trivial when compared with what these people are doing. If I want to make something of myself in this world, I'm going to have to work extremely hard, harder than I have been. Which is saying something, because, as my friends will tell you, all I do is work. I don't know if I can do it. Granted, who am I to say that I even deserve to make a name for myself in the world? Sometimes I want to be remembered, to have people recognize my name, as I'm sure most people do. But, does that really matter? If I do good work, does it matter if I am "famous"? My priority should not be to become famous. It should be to do good things for people, for humanity, for the world. Which it is. It doesn't matter, really, if my name is remembered. What matters is what I accomplish, and how that affects people. And being here, being another face in the crowd, has helped me realize that.

I have to say, thus far I haven't made an impact on this university or this community, as I know I was expected to. It will be no different when I leave than when I arrived. But, that's acceptable. Frustrating, a little, but acceptable. I came here assuming that it would be a break from my hectic life, that I would focus on the academics, that this would be a time for learning and for traveling. Which it has been and will be. So I've accomplished what I set out to do. And my time here isn't even over.

Anyway, I have to resume my reading and essay writing. I've read Christina Rosetti's "Goblin Market" and Elizabeth Barrett Browning's "Sonnets from the Portuguese," and I'll be writing an essay about how these various poems depict female desire. Fascinating subject, but it'll definitely make for an awkward tutorial. Hah. I can't wait.

A Good Day.

Yesterday was one of those really good days. A change from the overwhelmingly stressful days that have been the norm over the past several weeks.

I got about 1.5 hours of sleep Sunday night, and yet woke up Monday (after going to bed at 8:00am having finished my paper and waking up at 9:00am) refreshed. I went to my tutorial, had an excellent conversation about The Moonstone, and was informed that the paper I had just handed in (the result of a rather fuzzy all-nighter) was perhaps the best paper I've written all semester. Win. Had a delicious sandwich for lunch as I walked to the library, enjoyed the snow falling, "led" a fantastic music class at the homeless/underprivileged resource center where I learned to work turntables, made my way home. Took a nap, watched an episode of the OC, had a ridiculously simple but delicious dinner, had a great time at choir rehearsal (where, regardless of my hoarse voice - the result of coughing all weekend - I was still able to sing quite well), and finished the night off with ice cream, travel planning, and Skype dates with my parents.

Today has been completely unproductive, partially because I'm making up for the 10 hours of sleep I've gotten in the last 72, and partially because my next tutorial revolves around Derek Walcott's poetry and my tutor hasn't sent me an essay topic or outside sources yet. I've rather enjoyed it, though this cold needs to go away now.

I think breaking points (like the one experienced a few days ago) are a good thing. I always have. Once you reach that breaking point, things can only improve. You are then able to appreciate the little things that brighten your day and overcome those obstacles with newfound strength. *Sigh*

It's looking up. Finally.

Spring Break? Hah.

This is the point in the semester during which students in the United States go off on spring break adventures after two months of hard work.

This is the point in the semester during which students at Oxford crack under the pressure of five weeks of even harder work, with the only break (that is to say, the end) being three long weeks away.

This. Is. Exhausting. To be honest, I haven't slept more than seven hours in a night in the entire time I've been here (except when I had the flu a few weeks ago). It averages out, I'd say, to about 4 hours per night. Granted, this is largely due to my own procrastination, but still. It's exhausting.

And here I am, procrastinating again, while 1500 more words of my essay are clamoring to be written, due in about 9 hours or so. I'm not sure how much more a person can take of this.

I have to say, I am genuinely amazed at the students here - that they can handle this workload and not ... cave. Perhaps this is why they drink so much and so often: they are so exhausted and overwhelmed by the workload that they cram in "fun" whenever and wherever possible. I wonder what the retention rate is. Likely very high, something else that amazes me. I wonder if that is due to the students themselves, or due to the structures in place. Something to think about.

Several happier notes:

My stepsister came to visit me! It was a lovely (though extremely brief) visit, the gaiety of which I am clinging to for dear life at this moment in time. We wandered around "downtown" Oxford, made dinner, watched a movie, got up early, meandered through the Covered Market (a place you MUST visit if you are ever in Oxford, whoever you are), went through the Oxford Castle, grabbed a baguette on the way to my tutorial, visited numerous libraries in the pursuit of books which currently are sprawled around my room, came back to the flat, made dinner, and went out to my favorite pub for the evening with several of my friends. She left bright and early the next morning to visit her friends in Exeter, where she spent a year in undergraduate education when she was around my age, ten years or so ago. I miss her already.

We visited Cambridge (excuse me, "the other place") yesterday. THAT was beautiful (pictures on Facebook). We took a walking tour of the University, ate lunch at the Eagle (where Watson and Crick realized the secret to DNA), walked around to the various colleges, went to a museum, went up St. Mary's tower to take some gorgeous photographs of the town, and climbed on a bus to go back home. I shall have to post pictures on here at some point, I suppose.

Last weekend (last Saturday, to be more specific) was perhaps one of my favorite days thus far in the semester. The day was extremely productive academically, followed by a fabulous dinner party (homemade macaroni and cheese with green beans sauteed in garlic, followed by brownies topped with ice cream and smothered in melted chocolate), and a themed party (favorite [or objection to the least favorite] stereotype), at one of our friends' flats. Several people from Magdalen attended. I was happy about that, since I got to meet LOTS of people on "my turf," and with the assurance that other people that I knew liked me were loitering about should a conversation become awkward. Very lovely evening. Very lovely, indeed.

Now, off to write that paper. Wish me luck. I pray I won't fall asleep while writing it. That is highly possible.

Topic: "Discuss the interface between detection and imperialism in The Moonstone." 2000 words. Go.

Just a Thought

How I'm going to miss having 100+ libraries at my disposal, with any book I could ever want to read available for perusal.

*sigh*

The Tutorial

Let me give you an overview of my life in the tutorial system:

I read a book, about 300-400 pages. I read pages and pages of secondary criticism and historical context. I spend hours writing a paper on a topic that at first was decided by myself but then assigned by my tutor. This paper is about 2000-3000 words long - 8-10 pages. In the space of three days. I then meet with my tutor, discuss the essay and the text, sit and stare blankly at him when he asks me to criticize the work, receive my next essay assignment, and begin again.

I have never done this much work for school. I read well over 1500 pages per week, and write two papers, longer than most I've written previously, every week. It's quite overwhelming.

I'm learning a lot, when I'm not bashing my head up against a wall (figuratively, of course) in frustration. I'm reading fabulously classic books that I've been meaning to read for years. I love the books. I don't love what I'm doing with them.

And I've realized why this is proving so difficult for me. In England, and especially within the Oxford system, by the time you get to be my age and year, a student has studied one subject for two to three years, exclusively. This is due to what are called "A levels," which are (very) roughly equivalent to two years at community college in the States. Then she gets here, and is further immersed in her chosen subject.

I, on the other hand, have taken one introductory level literature class in college.

I'm so in over my head.

Perhaps coming here was premature. Perhaps I should have waited until I've had more experience with analyzing and critiquing literature before putting myself into such an advanced, intense atmosphere.

When I get back, at least, I'll be far ahead of everyone else and have a better grasp of literature. I hope. I think.

In the meantime, I can only hope that these classes, though a great learning experience, don't bring down my GPA too much.

I could definitely see myself enjoying this system thoroughly, if I was more prepared, smarter, had taken more literature classes. As it stands, I am constantly frustrated and overwhelmed. Keeping my head above water. Just barely, but I'll make it. Hopefully somewhat unscathed. We'll see.

Travels, continued.

How does one get to know a place?

There is a clear distinction between visiting a country and getting to know that country. One is superficial; the other, quite difficult. A person can travel to a country and not know that country at all upon leaving it. Take, for example, a couple traveling to Jamaica on their honeymoon. They stay in a resort, swim in the waters, visit the tourist sites, interact with some native Jamaicans in a flea market, eat Jerk chicken at a 4-star restaurant, and go home. They would tell everyone that they had been to Jamaica, the weather was perfect, the scenery was beautiful, they got a great deal on this lovely pair of earrings, etc. But, did they really get to know that country? Or did they just visit it?

What does it take to get to know a country? Is it flitting from tourist attraction to tourist attraction? Performing extensive research regarding a country's history? Reading guidebooks on the most famous sites? Learning the language? Asking a random person on the street as to the location of the best restaurant? Striking up a conversation with a local to inquire about customs and culture? What does it take?

To answer those questions, one needs to consider what makes up the fiber of a country, that country's soul, that place's distinction from another place. Of what is that constructed? Local fare? Local inflection? Local history? Local dress?

How long does it take to get to know a country? A weeklong visit to the tourist attractions? A month in a hostel? A year in a host family's home? How long does it take?

Do we even know our own country? Think of all the places we have never been, never seen, never experienced. Most of us have probably not seen those things that a tourist would want to see. So, if we have experienced one but not the other, do we know our country?

I ask because I want to get to know places. I don't want to just visit them. I don't want to go to Paris, see the Eiffel Tower, laugh at my pathetic attempts at French, and go home. I don't want to go to Italy, float on a gondola, eat gelato and pasta, drink Tuscan wine, and go home. I think there's more to it than that. There is more to a country than these things. So how do I go about experiencing the country, and not just visiting it?

Hm.

Travel Plans

The time has come to begin my travels. I was chatting with a friend of mine from Stetson who is currently studying in Spain. She's going to come visit me once the term ends, and we're going to go up to Ireland. I also have the opportunity to bum around with her and her friend in Vienna, Prague, and somewhere in Northern Italy in late March during her spring break. My other dear friend who is studying abroad in Switzerland is going to visit me at some point, and we're going to visit Scotland.

Three difficulties: timing, money, and finding a travel partner. No way I am traveling anywhere by myself. My flatmates are good candidates; plus there are others in the program I've befriended who could accompany me. Combining who I can travel with and when we can travel there may prove to be extremely difficult.

I've prioritized my travel goals. I want to go everywhere that a person could possibly go, and get the most out of everywhere I go. Unfortunately, I am not that experienced with travel and therefore may find myself wasting lots of time wandering around aimlessly. I need to have a plan. Or, perhaps the trick of great traveling is not having a plan and just going wherever the wind takes me. I have no idea. I have to find out soon, though, because the time approaches. I digress. Prioritized travel goals include: Ireland. Scotland. France. Spain. The first three because they are the most easily accessible. The last because my friend is studying there, and I've wanted to go there for years. I'm not sure if I should limit myself to those four just for the sake of having a limit, but then that might close me off to other possibilities ... I don't know. We'll see how it goes.

On another note, I realized that, even though I have only been here for four weeks, I am going to miss this place. It's beginning to feel like home, like I belong here. This is my flat, my city. Even though it has been difficult, I've built a life for myself, as I tend to do. I have established a rhythm. Not the same kind of rhythm as at home, where everything is in a routine and is structured and constantly moving. No, this is a different rhythm. It's as if I have connected with my surroundings, and we work with each other. Does that make sense? I'm at peace with this place. And I'm thoroughly enjoying that peace.

Time for bed, and Wuthering Heights in the morning.

Illness

I have the flu. Lovely. Just as I was starting to get into the swing of things - making friends, joining clubs, rocking my tutorials. NOT okay.

I had to cancel my tutorial yesterday because a) I could barely move and b) I didn't want to spread disease amongst the Oxford population. Bad enough I'm doing it to my flatmates. So I emailed my tutor and said that I wasn't feeling well, that the doctor said I might have the flu, can we please reschedule? He responded, "I suppose that's fine. Are you still on track for our other tutorial? You know, the Oxford term is quite hectic and we can't really afford to rearrange tutorials like this in the future. But, if you're sick, you're sick. Feel better."

And, of course, I felt horrible.

Granted he doesn't know this, but I'm not the kind of person to fake illness to get out of doing things. I was up at 4:30 that morning agonizing over what to do. Spending the whole day in bed watching reruns of the OC online and reading, though it was quite pleasant, drove me crazy. I'm not being productive. And I hate not being productive.

Oh, and for anyone considering going abroad, do yourself a favor and don't get sick. It's quite obnoxious to be ill in a place where people can't just go pick things up for you and dote on you to make you feel better, and your friendly and familiar doctor isn't around to smile at you and give you the right medicine.

I am forcing myself to get better soon. I can't stand this lying around, feeling miserable-ness. So enough is enough.

A Few Updates

It has been far too long since I have written! I hate when someone sends me a link to a blog and then they don't update it, so I apologize to any who share these sentiments!

Let's see ... a lot has been going on. I've met with my tutor twice now (and will again today), written two rather long essays (the first one he liked, the status of the second will be found out today), and read numerous books on the social and political background of The Lyrical Ballads and Ngugi wa Thiong'o's choice of language in A Grain of Wheat. I've been reading for the past three days straight. The procrastination tendency is slowly going away as my schedule fills up.

On that note, I've joined the University Chorus (a non-auditioning mixed chorus), and we're singing Beethoven's Mass in C, which I coincidentally sang last spring. I met a few people, and I'm really looking forward to how it'll turn out. I also attended yoga the other night - definitely to become a new weekly habit. It's 5 quid though, but since I've been way below my budget for the past two weeks I'll indulge myself. I also want to join the knitting club, which I've heard is a great place for bonding and gossip.

The service aspect is going very slow. People take forever to respond, and everyone's so busy that the classes I wanted to participate in for the local young adult homeless population are often cancelled or rescheduled. Oh well. I emailed other people about things to do, so we'll see how that goes.

Our group took a trip to Bath and Stonehenge this Sunday (pictures can be seen on my Facebook - I'll post several pictures on here when my internet stops being spotty). Bath was beautiful; Stonehenge was fascinating but there's only so much looking at rocks to be done. Nevertheless, it was a good day.

This post hasn't been as detailed as I'd have liked, but alas, my lecture starts in 33 minutes and it takes 27 to get there, so I must fly!

Oxford Traditions

This past weekend, I had the opportunity to participate in two Oxford traditions - the bop, and formal dinner. Unfortunately, I have no pictures of either event. When there's another bop, I will most certainly post pictures!

Bop: a "bop" is a themed dance/party hosted by the college. People dress according to the theme, make their way to the college bar, and proceed to dance and drink and talk (or scream due to the loud music). Since I didn't know anyone there besides Paul, my trusty Magdalen sidekick and fellow Visiting Student, it was slightly awkward at first. Going up to random people and introducing yourself wasn't as easy as they made it sound. Everyone already knew one another, so making the first move was slightly intimidating. I got used to it though, and met one girl who introduced me to everyone she knew who was there. Granted, I could barely hear their names over the noise pulsating from the speakers, but perhaps one or two will remember my face at a given point in time.

It was a somewhat surprising experience, as well. I was, to be honest, expecting people dressed in relatively tame costumes corresponding to the theme ("vintage" according to our student liaison officer but "60's and before" according to everyone else) drinking wine and beer and chatting over quiet music. NOT. Everyone's costumes were inventive and flashy, girls were dancing on the bars, rugby players stripped to their underwear in the middle of the dance floor, people indulging in drunken makeout sessions draped themselves over the couches lining the room, and everyone was absolutely wasted. I was surprised at the striking similarity to parties in the States, not that I necessarily should have been, as college students are college students. Nevertheless, it was still surprising. And fun, after a few glasses of the house cocktail to soften those inhibitions...

Formal Dinner: The next evening was formal dinner, during which students and faculty dress nicely, put on their formal academic gowns, and go to dinner in the great hall. The Visiting Students at Magdalen (myself, Paul, and two other young men who have been there since last term) met in our academic advisor's office beforehand and proceeded into the dining hall where we were seated at long tables. The important faculty and select graduate students filed in to a table on a raised platform at the front of the room as the rest of us stood to honor their entrance. The chaplain (?) banged something on the table, and suddenly a choir began to sing from a balcony on the opposite end of the room. Their song was brief but devastatingly beautiful, not to mention in perfect pitch and harmony. A few words were said in Latin, and dinner was served. Waiters brought our plates and took them away. We indulged in a three-course dinner consisting of a simple broccoli and parmesan quiche over salad, turkey (or duck?) in delicious gravy with creamed peas and pearl onions, and a delightful berry cheesecake, followed by coffee. The faculty then filed out (again, as we stood), and we exited into the college bar for some drinks and conversation. It was a rather lovely evening.

On a completely different note, my once fabulously waterproof boots have unfortunately sprouted holes in the heel. I shall have to purchase new ones. I suppose that's what I get for buying £17 boots. Oh well.

Off to dinner in the hall, and then to read more of William Wordsworth's "Lyrical Ballads."

Oh! My reading list for the remainder of the semester:

19th Century British Literature: Lyrical Ballads, Frankenstein, Wuthering Heights, David Copperfield, The Moonstone, selections from the works of Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Christina Rossetti, and Heart of Darkness.

"Global Literature": Grain of Wheat, 100 Years of Solitude, something from a Chinese author, Midnight's Children, something by Derek Walcott, Death of the King's Horsemen, and Season of Migration to the North.

Along with various criticisms and lectures to attend. I'm excited :)

Random Observations

Do me a favor while reading this blog. Imagine it being spoken in a soft British accent, narrating as I walk the streets with my hands in the pockets of my unbuttoned black peacoat, skinny jeans, and black leather boots, hair billowing in the wind. That's what was in my mind as I composed this blog while walking back from my extensive errands today.

Today's to-do list took me to the Magdalen College library, the English Faculty Library (which unfortunately closed 20 minutes before I got there), the Bodleian Library (the Bod, after an accidental detour into a nearby college), the market to purchase bananas and crumpets, the pharmacy (or the chemist) to purchase nail polish remover, and back to my flat. So far today I've walked almost 3.5 miles, and have yet to walk another two. I love it. And no, that isn't sarcasm.

Wandering the streets of Oxford results in sensory overload. The cold bites at my cheeks and chin (though today the snow and ice are all gone - no more slipping for me!), the wind whistles in my ears, cars and bikes fight for the right of way on the roads, enormous buses zoom by so closely that I am surprised no one gets hit, and people of all shapes, sizes, and ethnicities bustle up and down the sidewalks, intent upon reaching their destination before anyone else. Not to mention the juxtaposition of architecture that is hundreds of years old with extremely modern shops - it still fascinates me. Errands are exhilarating, and exhausting.

I must say, what most British women lack in exquisite beauty, they make up for in impeccable dress. I have seen perhaps four or five women dressed poorly during the week and a half I've been here. Expensive (or at least, appearing expensive) boots, patterned tights or black leggings, tweed shorts, layered dresses or long sweaters, skintight skinny jeans (extremely rare - everyone wears leggings or tights - how they don't freeze is beyond me), dangling necklaces, elaborate scarves, hats pulled low over hair that looks fresh from the catwalk, and perfectly applied makeup. I consider myself to be a relatively (emphasize the word relatively) fashionable dresser and I look extremely plain next to all of these fashion models. It's amazing.

A few things I've noticed that have surprised me in their similarity to American culture (perhaps Western culture?): women are rarely seen driving if a man is in the front seat, the homeless are overlooked, "excuse me" is a typical response after accidentally bumping into someone, children are doted upon, hot topics are treated delicately in most cases and in others result in loud arguments, men stare at attractive young women, and store clerks are extremely friendly and helpful.

A few things I've noticed that have surprised me in their difference from American culture: waiters and bartenders are not tipped (or are tipped very little), eye contact on the street is highly avoided, people are less willing to forgive mistakes, several people have a beer or wine with most lunches and dinners, the word "quite" is interpreted as "less than" (so saying a meal was "quite delicious" or a lecture was "quite fascinating" means that the meal was less than delicious or the lecture boring), the elderly are respected for their knowledge and experience, ad caring for the environment (i.e., recycling, vehicles with eco-friendly emissions, reuse of plastic grocery bags, disposing of rubbish properly, etc.) is second nature.

Interesting, no?

Title?

The computer doesn't want to let me upload pictures. I will try again tomorrow.

Um ... what to write, what to write? Let's have a mini vent session first, and then I'll continue to the rest of it.

It's rather disconcerting to be in a foreign country with absolutely no one I know. I feel uprooted. No, perhaps that's not the right word. Adrift, perhaps? For some strange reason, my introverted tendencies are coming out, and I'm not in the mood to socialize. Why now, of all times??? I can't wait to get a schedule set up, and start making friends within my college. There's a bop (a themed dance) Saturday night - may the socializing begin! On another note, they fixed our heater and our shower, so now four girls don't have to share the same shower, and we won't awaken to a random lack of heat. However, I still don't have my student card, which grants me access to the libraries. The associate students (who take one primary and one secondary tutorial, and have access only to the Bodleian and their college libraries) got their cards yesterday, and have full use of the libraries. Paul and I, visiting students (who take two primary tutorials and have access to the Bod, our college library, and the faculty libraries, as well as having all the privileges of actual students), have not yet received our cards due to a delay from the snow. Arg. Thank goodness I have good ol' David Copperfield to keep me company in the meantime. Great book, but it has taken me a ridiculously long time to read.

Moving on from the complaining.

Oxford University is rather unique, if you haven't noticed. It is broken up into over 30 colleges, which do not specialize in subjects. I have not yet figured out how they place students into colleges. I suppose it's the atmosphere or something like that. Magdalen College (my college) has had the most famous alumni from what I can tell. Other than that, I'm not sure how they're different. To draw a parallel, it is similar to how the United States of America is divided into 50 distinctive states all hailing under the same title. Each student participates in a tutorial. These tutorials involve one or two students conversing with a tutor (quite different from the American idea of a tutor - this is like a professor), reading/skimming numerous books, and writing extensively about their subject.

When I say extensive, I mean extensive. As in, a 10-12 page paper every week. Per tutorial. Not to mention the books which I as a literature student am encouraged to read twice. I had a mini hyperventilating session when I realized this. I knew there would be reading and essays, but I had no conception of exactly how much. I keep telling myself that they wouldn't have sent me here if they didn't think I could handle the workload and excel. Plus, classes are all I'll have to worry about besides my service and any clubs I choose to join. And they're only one hour per week each. So I have lots of time. I wish I had read more before actually getting here. Ah, how I hate the clarity of hindsight.

Their theory of learning is rather fascinating. I very much approve. Bob, the director of OSAP, gave a long lecture about it. They encourage students to gather information from an extremely wide variety of sources, to think deeply on a given question, and write an essay (an exploration, as he called it, not an argument) with discussion points. The tutors put the learning directly into the hands of the students. None of this spoon-feeding, getting lost in the crowd nonsense so typical of American universities. Students study that which excites their intellect, and learn to think for themselves. Yes, my home university encourages this as well, but not to the same extent. Here, you are not penalized for disagreeing with your tutor. You are encouraged to do so. And it's not a surface encouragement; as in, "I tell you to disagree, but if you do, I will look down upon your stupidity for daring to disagree with my own ideas, and twist your argument so that it seems to hold absolutely no validity whatsoever, when in reality I'm too afraid to consider another point of view." I am so excited for this intellectual stimulation.

The Beginning

So.

I've been at Oxford for a total of four days. It has been a mixture of fabulous and frustrating. Let me explain.

My plane touched down as the sun rose over the snow-covered city of London. I gathered my bags, went through customs (there was no one there - strange), wandered around until I found the bus stop, and proceeded to wait outside in the bitter cold for almost 45 minutes while we waited for a bus that usually comes every twenty minutes or so. Seeing as this is the hardest winter they've had in 30 years, everything shut down and was running behind schedule. (Side note [and perhaps the only comment I will make in critique of this new country]: I thought it was rather hilarious that the country basically shut down due to 1 degree Celsius weather and 7 inches of snow. But that is perhaps since I am used to that kind of weather constantly in Connecticut. Anyway.). I caught a bus (with an extremely rude bus driver, I might add), waited around for a taxi, and made my way to the check-in office. This warm and friendly office cheered me considerably. I received my key, found out that I would not have to wait several days to receive ethernet access as they had recently installed Wi-fi in all of the flats, and was driven to my flat (a good 20 minute walk away from the office, and 30 minute walk away from my college).

The view from the plane.

Since the cleaning ladies had been snowed in, I was greeted by a disgustingly filthy, though rather adorable, flat. (We've had a series of misfortunes with this flat. We have three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a small sitting area, and a small kitchen. The shower in one of the bathrooms leaks, and I emerged from my five minute shower into an inch of water covering the floor. Not to mention the horrid smell left by the flat's previous tenants - boys, of course. Over the next few days, we lost heat, hot water, and electricity in our outlets - all of which have been restored. The shower still leaks, so we use the shower in the other bathroom. Unfortunately, the drain is quite clogged, so the innocent showerer is likely to find herself standing in several inches of water after two minutes of being in the shower. The problems will be fixed soon, I hope! We'll manage!). I began to settle in to my room, and met my first flatmate shortly after (Amanda - she's a sweetheart). The two of us, upon realizing that we had not eaten for several hours, proceeded to wander the slushy streets of Oxford, found the local grocery stores, priced cell phones, actually did not end up eating, and discovered that our pretreated suede boots were, in fact, not waterproof in the slightest. The town is adorable. Bustling streets lined by old buildings, with modern shops residing at street level (see the picture below!). Then, dinner and drinks with all of the OSAP (Oxford Study Abroad Programme) people, where we went to a local pub, ordered dinner, and I purchased my first legally alcoholic drink - Kopparberg cider with fruit. Delicious! The people are all wonderful - smart, driven, yet laid-back. I am so going to enjoy working with all of them over the next several months, although only one other person is in my college. I'll explain that in a later post.

Shops in the centre of town.

The next day we sat through several informational sessions, had lunch out, and proceeded to take a walking tour through Oxford. I'm pretty sure my feet almost froze, as the weather was below freezing and my boots and two pairs of heavy socks were completely soaked through. The scenery was lovely. I cannot wait to be inducted into my college. My flatmate and I (our other flatmates had not yet arrived) went to the grocery store, bought three days worth of groceries for 16 quid (about $30 - amazing!), and returned to our flat only to venture out again for a night of socializing at various pubs. I must say, I quite enjoy pub culture. People have one or maybe two drinks, sit, socialize, listen to music playing in the background, laugh, and enjoy themselves. Nothing like you'd find in an American bar, where the intent is usually to get as drunk as possible in as little time as possible and find someone to take home that night. There are a few nightclubs which bear a striking resemblance to American bars and clubs, but far more common are the leisurely pubs.

The next few days were spent socializing, reading, frantically cleaning my flat after being overwhelmed by its grotesque state, hurrying around the town attempting to find cheap, waterproof boots (which I did manage to find, though they have absolutely no traction - I have slipped and slid all down the streets, and only fallen once, something of which I am rather proud!) and to locate the least expensive cell phone provider. For anyone considering going abroad, Skype is definitely the cheapest way to make calls (though you cannot receive them!).

We've been rather stingy with our food money, and thus today at lunch was my first complete meal in several days (don't worry - I'm not being malnourished. Pasta, frozen pizza with vegetables, and crumpets with tea have been the staples of my diet thus far. That will change with the arrival of our fourth flatmate, delayed by weather, at which point we will be able to split the grocery bill four ways). We went to a pub (they have ridiculously cheap food!) around lunchtime for a traditional English breakfast. Unfortunately, they stopped serving it an hour earlier, so instead I had the delicious meal featured below. Yum!

Sunday roast dinner.

It isn't what I expected, though I didn't really have any idea what to expect. I am enjoying myself. The country is beautiful, I'm excited for my classes, and I'm excited to see what the next three months will bring. I'm rather amazed at how easily this "go with the flow" attitude has come to me. I suppose my control-freak tendencies are instead manifesting themselves in the spotlessly clean kitchen and bedroom, not that I mind. We'll see how much traveling I can accomplish, and how much I can learn. I can't wait.

(Note to self: in the next post, discuss the colleges, and the theory of learning and education Oxford has!)

More pictures to come!

A Quick Update

I'm here. I'm safe. The trip was relatively uneventful. Oxford is lovely ... and cold. I'm meeting lots of new people, getting settled into my flat, and learning how to find my way around.

More details later, when it's not 1:00am. :)

Preparation

I know I said that I wouldn't post more until I actually got over to England (2.5 days - but who's counting?). However, there is so much that I have been doing, considering, researching, etc. that I feel the need to write about it all.

Preparation: For the past three weeks, I've been purchasing clothes, making phone calls, sending emails, and doing a variety of menial - but important - tasks to prepare for my experience abroad. (Side note: it had better be damn worth it. Pardon my language.) I've had to call the credit card company and the bank to alert them that I'll be abroad and that they should not freeze my account when they see a charge at a breakfast joint on Thursday morning. I've had to register with the embassy in London, make numerous copies of my passport and insurance cards, call the OSAP office in Virginia in a panic that my housing deposit would be late due to the forms originally having been sent to Florida and subsequently forwarded to snowy Connecticut, and mailed dozens of forms to lovely England, along with several new passport photographs. Not that anyone really cares - I just never realized that there was this much work involved in going abroad, and I feel the need to warn people :) I have several new sweaters, a new pair of (fake) suede boots, a new peacoat, a baby umbrella, a neck pouch (which I cannot believe I will actually wear - how very "touristy" of me), a hat, and very very thick socks. I have eliminated several unnecessary items from my luggage, and pray that when I begin the packing process on Tuesday, everything will fit comfortably within my suitcase and duffel (duffle?) bag with room to spare. Enough about that.

Classes: I will be taking two classes while I'm abroad. One will focus on 19th century British Literature, chronologically or not. The other will focus on literature from different parts of the globe, studying the effects of globalization on indigenous culture and how it is reflected through their literature. I have one tutor for both of my tutorials. He seems very nice - a Rhodes scholar. Maybe he can give me some tips for my future application (which is contingent upon my liking Oxford while I'm there). Anyway, we've been in contact and I've been planning my classes. I am taking charge of my learning, and loving every minute of it. We've selected (in tandem) six or seven books for me to read before I actually get there, and I can't wait.

My reading list:

• The Moonstone
• David Copperfield
• The Lyrical Ballads
• A Grain of Wheat
• Midnight's Children
• Season of Migration to the North

Service: I've also been researching service sites. With the help of some contacts at Oxford, I came across several potentials that seem to fit my passions quite nicely. The Gatehouse, for one, is an "Oxford-based charity providing food, shelter and company to Oxford's homeless and poorly housed population," taken directly from its website. It is a cafe that serves food to those in need within Oxford, and hosts several events throughout the week. Perfect, no? I could volunteer there several evenings a week. I have to get in touch with the people there, ask a few questions, see if it's what I want to do. There is another site called The Gap. Here's a blurb from the web: "The Gap is a community resources for homeless, vulnerable, and socially excluded people (16+ years) in Oxfordshire. We enable an appropriate move on to independent and sustainable lifestyles for all, thus limiting the impact on the individual, the family, and the community. We provide a wide range of services, advice and support on housing and resettlement, alcohol and substance misuse issues, sexual health issues, mental health issues, and employment and training." Hmm. I don't know how I'll choose. There are also several projects sponsored directly by the university, which would give me the opportunity to bond with people from Oxford. I'll look into those too.

And this blog has been far too long. Next time I write, I shall be sitting in my flat in Oxford, in England, breathing a sigh of relief that I made the trip from the United State to the airport to the study abroad office to my flat safely and without too much hassle. Wish me luck!