My computer has died. Capoot. Done Working. The screen has been malfunctioning, including: the bottom of the screen appearing at the top of the screen, turning fuzzy, rainbow colors with black gridlines all over, and black dots appearing on the screen. I took it to computing services here at Oxford, and they told me the video chip is broken/corrupted/not working. I took it to the repair center to be examined and given a formal estimate on how much it will cost to fix, but I was told it could be around £300. Yippee. My best friend sent me an email, however, about defective Nvidia video chips in computers that have caused a lawsuit. I may be able to file a claim and be reimbursed for the repairs to my computer—thanks to my best friend! We’ll see what happens.
I thought it might be interesting to share what exactly it feels like to be abroad without a working computer. To sum it up, it sucks. I have been going to the computer lab at school or at various libraries daily to check my email, facebook, my bank account, etc. When I have to write my weekly/bi-weekly essays, I have been planting myself in the computer lab all day to write them.
It’s funny, though, to consider why God is presenting me with this difficulty in my life; I think He must be trying to teach me something. When I had the internet difficulties right after arriving, I told myself maybe it was a blessing in disguise, hiding behind my increased feelings of homesickness and aloneness, that would prompt me to try harder to meet other people. Now that I cannot even take my laptop somewhere to get wireless, the trial has become a little more difficult, but perhaps that means it shall be more fruitful.
Using the internet to look up information, to contact friends and family, to shop, to make travel plans, share pictures, write a blog, manage finances, learn about the world, look up directions, listen to music, and watch television shows can create a bit of an addiction. Quiting cold turkey can be difficult (although I am blessed to have the computer lab about 20 minutes away). I’m trying to learn to write lists of anything I want to look up, so I can do it the next time I’m in front of a computer; to learn to appreciate communication via the web much, much more; to be more focused on school work where I would normally go on-line as a distraction.
I’ve never been a person to use the computer super often anyway; one would think this would be a piece of cake. But like so many things in life, once the freedom is gone, we crave it profoundly. How can one realize the power of having the worldwide web literally at one’s fingertips...until it is gone? Maybe I did go on facebook a bit too much, maybe I took having my very own computer for granted.
I’ll make it through this though; God would never present me with a challenge to face alone. My best efforts will be put forth to continue to update my blog pretty regularly—so never fear on that front. With modern technology briding distances of thousands of miles and transforming them into mere seconds of separation via the internet, being abroad is irrefutably easier. But when that connection, that bridge, requires a great deal more work and can be crossed only sparingly, I think God is showing me what it means to be alone. Yes, I have new friends here that are wonderful, but by depriving me of easy access to those I know and care the most about in the whole world, I think He’s teaching me to rely on Him, to seek solace in Him, to not take Him for granted. I’ll do my best to learn this lesson.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
An Eventful Week at Oxford
I have had a rather eventful week, to say the least. I turned in my first essay, which went better than expected (and I’ve written my next one, which is due tomorrow in my other tutorial). I’ve attended several lectures, including one over Victorian Gothic literature and another over Jane Austen today. Lectures at Oxford are essentially a tutor reading something they have prepared ahead of time over their research interests, as opposed to the more casual, going off of notes style in the US. All lectures are optional as well, and students just go to whatever they are interested in learning about or what they feel would supplement their tutorials well.
I went ahead and bought a bike which was a bit pricey with all the necessary accessories: a helmet, lights, mud guards, lock, and basket. My bike is gold (perhaps one may even call her a bit masculine) with a cute wicker basket on front. Admittedly, the first ride back to my dorm was terrifying…the whole 1/8 of a mile. I’ve ridden three or four times since then into the city centre and am starting to feel more comfortable. Riding across town goes so much faster, especially since Oxford is very much designed in a bicycle-friendly way. And with the cold weather (it feels very much like winter already, in October!!!), the quick trip makes my life a lot easier. Today while I was riding several buses passed me, I made several right turns (which is quite tricky for a new biker in England, because one must stick out the arm, merge in front of cars, and then wait for an opening to turn), and made it home alive. One car decided to pass me by swerving into the bike lane (which is quite narrow, a bike barely fits in it) while I was waiting to turn right. Overall, though, I’m beginning to get the hang of this bike thing.
Surprisingly it has rained only four or five times since I’ve been here. I was shocked. After asking some of the Brits about it, I heard that it has been a dry summer for them, so perhaps that explains it. Or maybe God is just providing me with an easier transition to life at Oxford and decided to throw just the cold at me first before exposing me to the wet cold. Yikes.
Sunday I went to mass at Christ Church, which was beautiful and very similar to Evensong at Magdalen College. Between the choir and the architecture I was in heaven. That was also my first Anglican mass, which was incredibly similar to the Catholic mass structurally. I intend to go to the Catholic chaplaincy for my next mass this weekend.
On Monday morning I went to C.S. Lewis’ house for a tour, which my tutor was just happening to give. His house is small, cute, English looking. When Lewis bought the property, it was secluded and beautiful, but since then lots of modern houses have popped up around his property. There is a little C.S. Lewis Nature Reserve with his pond that he used to swim in that I visited too. I feel a bit like his stalker between taking a tutorial about him, going to the pub he frequented, meeting his friend, going to his house, visiting the college he taught at. I read that he first lived in a house on the street where my college is as well. All of it has made for good inspiration when I have to write essays over him, I suppose.
I’ve been trying to get involved at Oxford too. Monday night I went to Bridge Club (and received several “hahahaha, are you 75?” jokes). It was awesome though; there were about 40 people there and we paired up and rotated around to different tables. Everyone was very friendly and patient with me, since I’ve only played a few times before. I think I’ll go play pretty regularly. Yesterday I went to the Oxford Cricket training for the girls’ team, which was interesting. I am completely not athletic, uncoordinated, and am a huge klutz. Half the team were seasoned players and the other half were complete beginners like myself. I still don’t quite understand the rules, but we did different field drills (pick up the ball and throw it to the pitcher—if that’s what it’s called?) and I learned how to bat…sort of. The swinging motion is so unnatural, I missed probably 90% of the balls. Batting in cricket feels like a combination of golf, tennis, and softball to me. We practiced with tennis balls (I was hit several times), but I suspect they use a hard ball in the actual game—which terrifies me. I’m trying to decide if I shall go back next week; I’m a big chicken. A big uncoordinated chicken. Training is once a week until third term, when there are twice weekly practices and matches. From what I have gathered there are not try-outs…We’ll see, I suppose, if I decide to stick with it.
Finally, tonight I went to my first formal dinner at the dining hall at Mansfield. Everyone dresses up a bit, no jeans allowed, and we sit at the regular tables and are served three courses. At Oxford, students are supposed to wear their formal gowns to dinner, which sort of look like academic gowns in the States. No one really wore them tonight, so I suppose they don’t wear them too often at Mansfield. Tonight was a Mexican charity dinner, and I’m thinking you will laugh when I describe the menu for you. I had heard the English version of Mexican food is atrocious. That was somewhat true, but mostly their efforts are half-hearted and misguided. I was praying for some salsa and guacamole to be involved. First, we had half a baked potato with a spoonful of chili and sour cream on top, with some homemade fried tortilla strips. Next, we had chicken breasts, rice, and potato wedges. For dessert, we had a small tortilla with apple pie filling and cream. I think most of the Mexican in the Mexican charity dinner consisted of sombreros hanging from the chandeliers.
Overall, I love the people I have met, the beauty of Oxford, the tutorial system, the activities I’ve tried, and my new life here overall. Admittedly I would love some American food and American weather (and of course to see my friends and family!), but I can’t complain. I really can’t. God has provided me with an awesome opportunity, and I am going to do my best to enjoy it to the fullest.
I went ahead and bought a bike which was a bit pricey with all the necessary accessories: a helmet, lights, mud guards, lock, and basket. My bike is gold (perhaps one may even call her a bit masculine) with a cute wicker basket on front. Admittedly, the first ride back to my dorm was terrifying…the whole 1/8 of a mile. I’ve ridden three or four times since then into the city centre and am starting to feel more comfortable. Riding across town goes so much faster, especially since Oxford is very much designed in a bicycle-friendly way. And with the cold weather (it feels very much like winter already, in October!!!), the quick trip makes my life a lot easier. Today while I was riding several buses passed me, I made several right turns (which is quite tricky for a new biker in England, because one must stick out the arm, merge in front of cars, and then wait for an opening to turn), and made it home alive. One car decided to pass me by swerving into the bike lane (which is quite narrow, a bike barely fits in it) while I was waiting to turn right. Overall, though, I’m beginning to get the hang of this bike thing.
Surprisingly it has rained only four or five times since I’ve been here. I was shocked. After asking some of the Brits about it, I heard that it has been a dry summer for them, so perhaps that explains it. Or maybe God is just providing me with an easier transition to life at Oxford and decided to throw just the cold at me first before exposing me to the wet cold. Yikes.
Sunday I went to mass at Christ Church, which was beautiful and very similar to Evensong at Magdalen College. Between the choir and the architecture I was in heaven. That was also my first Anglican mass, which was incredibly similar to the Catholic mass structurally. I intend to go to the Catholic chaplaincy for my next mass this weekend.
On Monday morning I went to C.S. Lewis’ house for a tour, which my tutor was just happening to give. His house is small, cute, English looking. When Lewis bought the property, it was secluded and beautiful, but since then lots of modern houses have popped up around his property. There is a little C.S. Lewis Nature Reserve with his pond that he used to swim in that I visited too. I feel a bit like his stalker between taking a tutorial about him, going to the pub he frequented, meeting his friend, going to his house, visiting the college he taught at. I read that he first lived in a house on the street where my college is as well. All of it has made for good inspiration when I have to write essays over him, I suppose.
I’ve been trying to get involved at Oxford too. Monday night I went to Bridge Club (and received several “hahahaha, are you 75?” jokes). It was awesome though; there were about 40 people there and we paired up and rotated around to different tables. Everyone was very friendly and patient with me, since I’ve only played a few times before. I think I’ll go play pretty regularly. Yesterday I went to the Oxford Cricket training for the girls’ team, which was interesting. I am completely not athletic, uncoordinated, and am a huge klutz. Half the team were seasoned players and the other half were complete beginners like myself. I still don’t quite understand the rules, but we did different field drills (pick up the ball and throw it to the pitcher—if that’s what it’s called?) and I learned how to bat…sort of. The swinging motion is so unnatural, I missed probably 90% of the balls. Batting in cricket feels like a combination of golf, tennis, and softball to me. We practiced with tennis balls (I was hit several times), but I suspect they use a hard ball in the actual game—which terrifies me. I’m trying to decide if I shall go back next week; I’m a big chicken. A big uncoordinated chicken. Training is once a week until third term, when there are twice weekly practices and matches. From what I have gathered there are not try-outs…We’ll see, I suppose, if I decide to stick with it.
Finally, tonight I went to my first formal dinner at the dining hall at Mansfield. Everyone dresses up a bit, no jeans allowed, and we sit at the regular tables and are served three courses. At Oxford, students are supposed to wear their formal gowns to dinner, which sort of look like academic gowns in the States. No one really wore them tonight, so I suppose they don’t wear them too often at Mansfield. Tonight was a Mexican charity dinner, and I’m thinking you will laugh when I describe the menu for you. I had heard the English version of Mexican food is atrocious. That was somewhat true, but mostly their efforts are half-hearted and misguided. I was praying for some salsa and guacamole to be involved. First, we had half a baked potato with a spoonful of chili and sour cream on top, with some homemade fried tortilla strips. Next, we had chicken breasts, rice, and potato wedges. For dessert, we had a small tortilla with apple pie filling and cream. I think most of the Mexican in the Mexican charity dinner consisted of sombreros hanging from the chandeliers.
Overall, I love the people I have met, the beauty of Oxford, the tutorial system, the activities I’ve tried, and my new life here overall. Admittedly I would love some American food and American weather (and of course to see my friends and family!), but I can’t complain. I really can’t. God has provided me with an awesome opportunity, and I am going to do my best to enjoy it to the fullest.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Okay, It's Really Happening
It’s really quite amazing, this life is. Sometimes I feel stressed, exhausted, apathetic, but then God throws a few more blessings my way so that I can’t help but realize His work in my life, His grace and glory.
Today I had my first tutorial, which perhaps is a momentous occurrence. Really my tutor talked the majority of the time about basic information concerning taking a tutorial and writing the papers and so forth. That she is brilliant, sharp, and engaged was immediately apparent. When she got around to briefly discussing Far From the Madding Crowd, my first assignment, I had a minor epiphany: all my literary life I had longed for one thing which I could not even realize I was longing for until it had been fulfilled—to have English literature discussed by an expert with an English accent. I was in heaven. By this time next week, when I am in the middle of writing two papers for my tutorials, the joy may have ebbed a bit. Or a lot.
As nervous and excited as I am for my tutorials, my biggest hope is that even among all the many mistakes and crummy essays I write, I develop as a student and writer and soak up even a fraction of what my tutors have to offer me.
Following my first tutorial I went to buy the next few books I’ll have to read; it’s quite expensive to buy books, but I love to mark them up as it helps me when I write papers. Also, I’ve convinced myself it is a worthwhile investment, as I’ll have these wonderful books that I bought in Oxford in my personal library for many years to come. I’m learning my way around Oxford though I have experienced only a tiny bit of all its wonders thus far. I love to walk, and despite what I wrote in my last entry, I’m contemplating getting a bike again. It would be a bit expensive but worth it, I’m thinking. I was so excited to do so before coming to Oxford, intimidated once I got here, and now I am sort of jealous of everyone riding their bikes. Ah, my indecisive nature can be a hassle.
This evening I went to the C.S. Lewis Society meeting, where an excellent speaker discussed Lewis and evangelicalism. All of a sudden the speaker referred to a member of the audience, sitting casually against the wall—Walter Hooper. I have just finished reading his quite famous Companion and Guide to C.S. Lewis, and to have the honor of hearing him chatting about a conversation he had with C.S. Lewis about aliens on Cornmarket Street wanting to know the Good News was unreal (that’s another story). After the meeting, I walked up and told him how much I had enjoyed his book while having a minor freak-out internally. My tutor this term for my C.S. Lewis tutorial is probably the foremost scholar on C.S. Lewis, so to actually be able to meet one of the other foremost scholars on Lewis is just insane.
Every time I try to convince myself that I am in Oxford cannot begin to compare to these surreal moments that force me to ask “How could you be anywhere else but Oxford?”
Today I had my first tutorial, which perhaps is a momentous occurrence. Really my tutor talked the majority of the time about basic information concerning taking a tutorial and writing the papers and so forth. That she is brilliant, sharp, and engaged was immediately apparent. When she got around to briefly discussing Far From the Madding Crowd, my first assignment, I had a minor epiphany: all my literary life I had longed for one thing which I could not even realize I was longing for until it had been fulfilled—to have English literature discussed by an expert with an English accent. I was in heaven. By this time next week, when I am in the middle of writing two papers for my tutorials, the joy may have ebbed a bit. Or a lot.
As nervous and excited as I am for my tutorials, my biggest hope is that even among all the many mistakes and crummy essays I write, I develop as a student and writer and soak up even a fraction of what my tutors have to offer me.
Following my first tutorial I went to buy the next few books I’ll have to read; it’s quite expensive to buy books, but I love to mark them up as it helps me when I write papers. Also, I’ve convinced myself it is a worthwhile investment, as I’ll have these wonderful books that I bought in Oxford in my personal library for many years to come. I’m learning my way around Oxford though I have experienced only a tiny bit of all its wonders thus far. I love to walk, and despite what I wrote in my last entry, I’m contemplating getting a bike again. It would be a bit expensive but worth it, I’m thinking. I was so excited to do so before coming to Oxford, intimidated once I got here, and now I am sort of jealous of everyone riding their bikes. Ah, my indecisive nature can be a hassle.
This evening I went to the C.S. Lewis Society meeting, where an excellent speaker discussed Lewis and evangelicalism. All of a sudden the speaker referred to a member of the audience, sitting casually against the wall—Walter Hooper. I have just finished reading his quite famous Companion and Guide to C.S. Lewis, and to have the honor of hearing him chatting about a conversation he had with C.S. Lewis about aliens on Cornmarket Street wanting to know the Good News was unreal (that’s another story). After the meeting, I walked up and told him how much I had enjoyed his book while having a minor freak-out internally. My tutor this term for my C.S. Lewis tutorial is probably the foremost scholar on C.S. Lewis, so to actually be able to meet one of the other foremost scholars on Lewis is just insane.
Every time I try to convince myself that I am in Oxford cannot begin to compare to these surreal moments that force me to ask “How could you be anywhere else but Oxford?”
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Life at Oxford
Every day I wake up and try to convince myself I’m at Oxford.
Perhaps that seems silly: how long can it take for one to realize where one lives? I’m going to be here for a year and still….I feel separate and apart from time and place. It isn’t that I feel like I’m in Kansas or DC or America or Europe or England or Oxford. I feel like I’m nowhere—somewhere worthwhile but somewhere that does not exist for anyone besides me and my fellow international students who I am getting to know more and more.
It hasn’t sunk in that I’m here to stay or that I’m on the verge of starting my Oxford education. This first week of orientation, labeled “0 Week” here at Oxford, has been weird. I’ve been jumping around from activity to activity, meeting Freshers and third-years and other JYAs (Junior Year Abroad students). I don’t have much time, my room is a mess, and I’m being thrown more and more reading lists. I have pretty successfully cut myself off from pop and have been drinking loads of tea. During orientation, we all eat in the dining hall together, so I have had several English meals (all involving potatoes, which is a food group for me anyway).
Originally I had thought that I would buy a bike and ride it around, as is the Oxford student way of life. Soon after arriving, however, I noticed the proximity of the bike lane and the bus lane; let’s just say they’re intimate neighbors. And by bike lane I mean two lines painted inches apart and thrown next to the curb. The bicyclists flap out their arm and weave into traffic to get around round-abouts. They inch along, kicking off the curb in stand-still traffic. They sometimes wear intense yellow vests, dorky helmets, and legit rain jackets. I have been enjoying walking everywhere, probably an hour per day minimum. It helps further that silly feeling I’ve always had that I am secretly Elizabeth Bennet, roaming around the English countryside.
So far I visited Port Meadow in the outskirts of Oxford—it was stunningly beautiful, a natural, peaceful escape from the hustle and bustle of city centre. We stopped by the delicious little Trout Inn that is in the Meadow, where I had the best fish and chips of my life. I ate dinner at the Eagle and Child (where the Inklings held their meetings) and had drinks at the Lamb and Flag. The neighborhood Tesco’s has become my very own. I check my pigeon hole for mail at the Porter’s Lodge. My ears are caressed with “leisure,” “inquiry,” “cheers,” and “schedule” on a daily basis; while the accents are becoming less noticeable for me, they are nonetheless still beautiful.
I attended Freshers’ Fair at the Exam Schools, where hundreds of little stalls artfully beckon the overwhelmed newcomers to the Oxford community to sign-up and join the C.S. Lewis Society, Assassins’ Guild, Oxford Law Society, the Rugby team, Catholic Students, or the Drama Society. I signed up for probably twenty clubs I’m sure I’ll never participate in. It was like our SAC Fair at Georgetown but intensified.
Last night I attended our first formal dinner at Mansfield, held in the college chapel. There was a pre-dinner drinks reception with champagne, and dinner consisted of meat pâté, stuffed chicken, potatoes, steamed vegetables, toffee pudding, white and red wine, coffee, and chocolates. The chapel was beautiful, the tables lit by candlelight, the tablecloths snowy white, and the Freshers and JYAs neatly tucked in behind numerous forks, knives, and glasses. There are two formal dinners per week at Mansfield so I think that I shall try to go once a week. When else will I experience this? I am so blessed.
Currently I am very overwhelmed by my upcoming tutorials. The reading lists for each paper compare to what I would read for a final paper at Georgetown—plus a few more books. The Oxford University library system is a bit confusing and overwhelming, but I bought my first book from the UK version of Amazon, visited and made several purchases at the enormous Blackwells bookstore, and ordered my first book from the stacks at the Bodleian. I trust myself to get it all the done, but nonetheless, this is quite intimidating. Of all the adjustments I’ve made, I think the move to the tutorial system will be one of the most challenging.
Overall, I am enjoying myself tremendously and feel quite settled in. I’m very excited for the next few weeks to unfold and to finally know what it feels like to study at Oxford. Soon and very soon I shall be what feels like a college drop-out no longer.
Perhaps that seems silly: how long can it take for one to realize where one lives? I’m going to be here for a year and still….I feel separate and apart from time and place. It isn’t that I feel like I’m in Kansas or DC or America or Europe or England or Oxford. I feel like I’m nowhere—somewhere worthwhile but somewhere that does not exist for anyone besides me and my fellow international students who I am getting to know more and more.
It hasn’t sunk in that I’m here to stay or that I’m on the verge of starting my Oxford education. This first week of orientation, labeled “0 Week” here at Oxford, has been weird. I’ve been jumping around from activity to activity, meeting Freshers and third-years and other JYAs (Junior Year Abroad students). I don’t have much time, my room is a mess, and I’m being thrown more and more reading lists. I have pretty successfully cut myself off from pop and have been drinking loads of tea. During orientation, we all eat in the dining hall together, so I have had several English meals (all involving potatoes, which is a food group for me anyway).
Originally I had thought that I would buy a bike and ride it around, as is the Oxford student way of life. Soon after arriving, however, I noticed the proximity of the bike lane and the bus lane; let’s just say they’re intimate neighbors. And by bike lane I mean two lines painted inches apart and thrown next to the curb. The bicyclists flap out their arm and weave into traffic to get around round-abouts. They inch along, kicking off the curb in stand-still traffic. They sometimes wear intense yellow vests, dorky helmets, and legit rain jackets. I have been enjoying walking everywhere, probably an hour per day minimum. It helps further that silly feeling I’ve always had that I am secretly Elizabeth Bennet, roaming around the English countryside.
So far I visited Port Meadow in the outskirts of Oxford—it was stunningly beautiful, a natural, peaceful escape from the hustle and bustle of city centre. We stopped by the delicious little Trout Inn that is in the Meadow, where I had the best fish and chips of my life. I ate dinner at the Eagle and Child (where the Inklings held their meetings) and had drinks at the Lamb and Flag. The neighborhood Tesco’s has become my very own. I check my pigeon hole for mail at the Porter’s Lodge. My ears are caressed with “leisure,” “inquiry,” “cheers,” and “schedule” on a daily basis; while the accents are becoming less noticeable for me, they are nonetheless still beautiful.
I attended Freshers’ Fair at the Exam Schools, where hundreds of little stalls artfully beckon the overwhelmed newcomers to the Oxford community to sign-up and join the C.S. Lewis Society, Assassins’ Guild, Oxford Law Society, the Rugby team, Catholic Students, or the Drama Society. I signed up for probably twenty clubs I’m sure I’ll never participate in. It was like our SAC Fair at Georgetown but intensified.
Last night I attended our first formal dinner at Mansfield, held in the college chapel. There was a pre-dinner drinks reception with champagne, and dinner consisted of meat pâté, stuffed chicken, potatoes, steamed vegetables, toffee pudding, white and red wine, coffee, and chocolates. The chapel was beautiful, the tables lit by candlelight, the tablecloths snowy white, and the Freshers and JYAs neatly tucked in behind numerous forks, knives, and glasses. There are two formal dinners per week at Mansfield so I think that I shall try to go once a week. When else will I experience this? I am so blessed.
Currently I am very overwhelmed by my upcoming tutorials. The reading lists for each paper compare to what I would read for a final paper at Georgetown—plus a few more books. The Oxford University library system is a bit confusing and overwhelming, but I bought my first book from the UK version of Amazon, visited and made several purchases at the enormous Blackwells bookstore, and ordered my first book from the stacks at the Bodleian. I trust myself to get it all the done, but nonetheless, this is quite intimidating. Of all the adjustments I’ve made, I think the move to the tutorial system will be one of the most challenging.
Overall, I am enjoying myself tremendously and feel quite settled in. I’m very excited for the next few weeks to unfold and to finally know what it feels like to study at Oxford. Soon and very soon I shall be what feels like a college drop-out no longer.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Welcome to Europe
I’ve missed blogging so much. It seems like I’ve thought a hundred times “It would be so great to blog about this…” After traveling around Europe for two weeks with my mom, I am here at Oxford, moved into my dorm. It has been quite a hassle to figure out how to get internet access, but hopefully I will have internet in my dorm room next week. It’s surprising what a luxury getting on Facebook and checking my email is after traveling. Sometimes I think God provides us with breaks from what we take for granted precisely so that we stop taking it for granted.
I don’t really know where to start to bridge the gap between the last time I wrote and now. International flights suck. Heathrow airport immediately made me feel like I was in Europe with its clean, minimal, modern lines (reminiscent of IKEA, I think). Instead of bathroom or restroom, the Brits refer to the loo as the “toilet,” which seems a bit crass. It made me laugh when I saw the sign for “baggage reclaim”; the English are nothing if not proper with the use of their language. After all, one already possesses one’s luggage—there is no need to claim it (as we silly Americans have shortened it to), simply to reclaim it. Nonetheless, I don’t feel like I’m in Europe yet. I don’t know when it will finally hit me—maybe never? Maybe when I’m no longer studying in Europe?
Mom and I took a bus to Oxford to drop off my luggage in my dorm room, and my first brief glimpses of Oxford were breath-taking. I still haven’t explored too much, and I can’t wait to look around all the different colleges. We then took a train up to Glasgow for four days, where I enjoyed my first fish and chips (delicious), my first Guinness (gross), took my first taxi ride in one of those roomy, fancy British cabs, went on a tour of the Highlands, visited Edinburgh, and enjoyed our “local” pub.
It was weird how everyone driving from the right side of the car on the left side of the road didn’t faze me too much, nor did being legally able to drink or even using a different currency. Even the beautiful accents aren’t standing out as much anymore. The weather has been colder than home but with several sunny days thrown in, so that transition hasn’t been too difficult. In all the hotels I’ve been to in the UK thus far, the Brits typically provide a tea kettle, trouser press, and heated towel rack in the room, which I found amusing. When traveling, trash cans (aka “rubbish” or “litter” bins) were very difficult to find, and in each of our hotel rooms, they had the same miniature trash can in the bathrooms. Surprisingly, however, with the few trash cans, I have seen zero litter. It seems to be taken very seriously here that people keep their roads and public buildings clean, and I think some public employees have the task of cleaning up the streets.
One other thing I have noticed is an extreme awareness of fire safety. The numerous fire extinguishers and fire blankets in buildings are paired with thorough fire exits and pathways in most buildings I’ve been in. Several times I have been scared that I would set off some alarm when I opened a door. There are signs posted everywhere that says “CCTV is monitoring this building/the speed” in public areas and on highways with a picture of a video camera; it feels like Big Brother is watching my every move sometimes.
Throughout our travel, my homesickness seemed to manifest itself in an intense craving for McDonald’s. That seems especially odd since I don’t eat McDonald’s too often at home, but I guess it makes sense. I wish I could have a homesick craving for something healthier. Oh, well. I really do enjoy shopping at the Tescos here though; they’re good quality and comparatively have pretty good prices. I’m excited to cook for myself, although I don’t think I’ll get too adventurous.
The trains in the UK really are super convenient and pretty comfortable overall. Also, they provide a beautiful opportunity to soak in the countryside. Between the fields covered in fluffy sheep and the clouds which seem to touch the earth, I love the English and Scottish countryside. The Highlands, Loch Ness, and Loch Lomond were….awe-inspiring. Stunning. I don’t know how it is possible to look at them and not know that God is our heavenly Father. I will say the Highlands were taller than I thought they would be, which sounds stupid. But it’s true. They towered majestically on either side of the road we were on, making me feel small, human, insignificant.
Looking back, I do think my time in Scotland was my favorite portion of our trip. After Glasgow, we returned to just outside of London to fly to Munich for Oktober Fest. To be perfectly honest, I was disappointed. Munich felt bleak and cold, and the language barrier proved to be a barrier. I shouldn’t have been so surprised.
Despite several attempts, we couldn’t get seats in a beer tent. The lederhosen were awesome, the food was delicious, the atmosphere was fun. There were several amusement park rides similar to those in America—but on crack. For example, there was a circle of dangling swings people sat in (like we have back home), but it rose up hundreds of feet in the air. Yikes. I spoke with several other Americans who had a fabulous time, but my mom and I were not too impressed. Our trundle beds in our authentic German hotel may have had something to do with that too.
Next we flew back to London and took a train to Liverpool. Mom and I went shopping there, which seems a bit odd I suppose. We had a great time though, and walked down to the dock as well. We stayed in an apartment that felt very luxurious and roomy, like a little slice of home away from home. When we went to the pubs Friday night, I was surprised to find that there were so many senior citizens out and that karaoke was so popular. Everywhere.
The next day we flew to our final destination: Dublin. I reunited with one of my best friends for the weekend, which was delightful!!! We went to Malahide to see the coast (and got a bit lost, walking around for hours), took a tour around the city, walked around Trinity and Grafton street, and went on a musical pub crawl. My mom had been on one previously and loved it, so the three of us got tickets to go. Usually, a few musicians take a group of people to a few different pubs, to discuss Irish musical culture and play traditional music in a warm, acoustic setting. One of our musicians seemed trashed, and the other dominated most of the time with his stories, jokes, and ego. When they actually performed a few songs, they were very talented. It irked me a bit that the more talkative musician kept bashing touristy Dublin and Americans; I know tourists can be quite annoying, but they also generate a great deal of revenue for Dublin. Many of us come with respect, wanting to learn of a different culture, meet people, enjoy ourselves. Nonetheless, we had an excellent time.
Mom dropped me back off in Oxford and left a few days ago. I think it’s finally starting to hit me that I’m staying, but even then it hasn’t truly sunk in. I’ve organized my room and decorated a bit, bought groceries, done laundry, and have been reading for school. Orientation starts tomorrow, and I can’t wait to meet other students. I’m feeling nervous again with all this anticipation and a slight bit of homesickness for both Kansas and Georgetown already.
This is a SUPER long post; I apologize for the length. I’ll write again soon with more about Oxford itself.
I don’t really know where to start to bridge the gap between the last time I wrote and now. International flights suck. Heathrow airport immediately made me feel like I was in Europe with its clean, minimal, modern lines (reminiscent of IKEA, I think). Instead of bathroom or restroom, the Brits refer to the loo as the “toilet,” which seems a bit crass. It made me laugh when I saw the sign for “baggage reclaim”; the English are nothing if not proper with the use of their language. After all, one already possesses one’s luggage—there is no need to claim it (as we silly Americans have shortened it to), simply to reclaim it. Nonetheless, I don’t feel like I’m in Europe yet. I don’t know when it will finally hit me—maybe never? Maybe when I’m no longer studying in Europe?
Mom and I took a bus to Oxford to drop off my luggage in my dorm room, and my first brief glimpses of Oxford were breath-taking. I still haven’t explored too much, and I can’t wait to look around all the different colleges. We then took a train up to Glasgow for four days, where I enjoyed my first fish and chips (delicious), my first Guinness (gross), took my first taxi ride in one of those roomy, fancy British cabs, went on a tour of the Highlands, visited Edinburgh, and enjoyed our “local” pub.
It was weird how everyone driving from the right side of the car on the left side of the road didn’t faze me too much, nor did being legally able to drink or even using a different currency. Even the beautiful accents aren’t standing out as much anymore. The weather has been colder than home but with several sunny days thrown in, so that transition hasn’t been too difficult. In all the hotels I’ve been to in the UK thus far, the Brits typically provide a tea kettle, trouser press, and heated towel rack in the room, which I found amusing. When traveling, trash cans (aka “rubbish” or “litter” bins) were very difficult to find, and in each of our hotel rooms, they had the same miniature trash can in the bathrooms. Surprisingly, however, with the few trash cans, I have seen zero litter. It seems to be taken very seriously here that people keep their roads and public buildings clean, and I think some public employees have the task of cleaning up the streets.
One other thing I have noticed is an extreme awareness of fire safety. The numerous fire extinguishers and fire blankets in buildings are paired with thorough fire exits and pathways in most buildings I’ve been in. Several times I have been scared that I would set off some alarm when I opened a door. There are signs posted everywhere that says “CCTV is monitoring this building/the speed” in public areas and on highways with a picture of a video camera; it feels like Big Brother is watching my every move sometimes.
Throughout our travel, my homesickness seemed to manifest itself in an intense craving for McDonald’s. That seems especially odd since I don’t eat McDonald’s too often at home, but I guess it makes sense. I wish I could have a homesick craving for something healthier. Oh, well. I really do enjoy shopping at the Tescos here though; they’re good quality and comparatively have pretty good prices. I’m excited to cook for myself, although I don’t think I’ll get too adventurous.
The trains in the UK really are super convenient and pretty comfortable overall. Also, they provide a beautiful opportunity to soak in the countryside. Between the fields covered in fluffy sheep and the clouds which seem to touch the earth, I love the English and Scottish countryside. The Highlands, Loch Ness, and Loch Lomond were….awe-inspiring. Stunning. I don’t know how it is possible to look at them and not know that God is our heavenly Father. I will say the Highlands were taller than I thought they would be, which sounds stupid. But it’s true. They towered majestically on either side of the road we were on, making me feel small, human, insignificant.
Looking back, I do think my time in Scotland was my favorite portion of our trip. After Glasgow, we returned to just outside of London to fly to Munich for Oktober Fest. To be perfectly honest, I was disappointed. Munich felt bleak and cold, and the language barrier proved to be a barrier. I shouldn’t have been so surprised.
Despite several attempts, we couldn’t get seats in a beer tent. The lederhosen were awesome, the food was delicious, the atmosphere was fun. There were several amusement park rides similar to those in America—but on crack. For example, there was a circle of dangling swings people sat in (like we have back home), but it rose up hundreds of feet in the air. Yikes. I spoke with several other Americans who had a fabulous time, but my mom and I were not too impressed. Our trundle beds in our authentic German hotel may have had something to do with that too.
Next we flew back to London and took a train to Liverpool. Mom and I went shopping there, which seems a bit odd I suppose. We had a great time though, and walked down to the dock as well. We stayed in an apartment that felt very luxurious and roomy, like a little slice of home away from home. When we went to the pubs Friday night, I was surprised to find that there were so many senior citizens out and that karaoke was so popular. Everywhere.
The next day we flew to our final destination: Dublin. I reunited with one of my best friends for the weekend, which was delightful!!! We went to Malahide to see the coast (and got a bit lost, walking around for hours), took a tour around the city, walked around Trinity and Grafton street, and went on a musical pub crawl. My mom had been on one previously and loved it, so the three of us got tickets to go. Usually, a few musicians take a group of people to a few different pubs, to discuss Irish musical culture and play traditional music in a warm, acoustic setting. One of our musicians seemed trashed, and the other dominated most of the time with his stories, jokes, and ego. When they actually performed a few songs, they were very talented. It irked me a bit that the more talkative musician kept bashing touristy Dublin and Americans; I know tourists can be quite annoying, but they also generate a great deal of revenue for Dublin. Many of us come with respect, wanting to learn of a different culture, meet people, enjoy ourselves. Nonetheless, we had an excellent time.
Mom dropped me back off in Oxford and left a few days ago. I think it’s finally starting to hit me that I’m staying, but even then it hasn’t truly sunk in. I’ve organized my room and decorated a bit, bought groceries, done laundry, and have been reading for school. Orientation starts tomorrow, and I can’t wait to meet other students. I’m feeling nervous again with all this anticipation and a slight bit of homesickness for both Kansas and Georgetown already.
This is a SUPER long post; I apologize for the length. I’ll write again soon with more about Oxford itself.
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