End of Term Reflections

This past week has definitely been a rollercoaster of events. On Saturday, the 5^th, my friend, Cecilia, from all the way back in the dark ages, when I was a high schooler arrived at Gloucester Green on The Airline Coach. Exactly ten days later, I am typing this piece from a hostel in Germany.

            I’ll slow down and go through the details; after all, those are the important parts of any journey.

            On Saturday, after Ceci moved in, the two of us wandered around the shops in Oxford. We marvelled at the beautiful, but ridiculously expensive clothing and the bizarre fashions. Jumpsuits, apparently, are in at the moment. I’ll just claim that I can’t really pull off that look and admire the brave few who can. We ate Cornish pasties and drank ginger beer (a soft drink like ginger ale, only spicier). Later that evening, she, Emily and I went to the Magdalen College evensong to hear the choir. In moments like those, when you hear the alien and angelic collective voice of men and boys, you feel marvellously small and human. Especially in an ancient chapel, such as Magdalen College’s.

            Sunday, we went to Wesley Memorial. I was extremely pleased at the easy and warm reception she received from the other students, whom we promised to see later in the week for a pancake party. Since the weather was behaving itself in a generous fit of non-British sunshine, we wandered around Christ Church Meadows, taking photos and generally exploring.

            Monday was our first big trip into London, after a most enlightened lecture from Dr. Warner. We arrived at about 3 p.m. just in time to tour the Royal Mews. If you know me at all, you know I love horses. Riding them… being around them… cleaning up after them… (sometimes), you get the picture. Well, this particular place is the location of the royal carriages and carriage horses, so of course, I had a splendid time. After that, we took altogether too many photos of Buckingham Palace. See my facebook album if you have any doubts of this! We wandered around (St.?) James Park, en route to Parliament and Big Ben. The guard in the Parliamentary buildings carried the first firearm I’ve seen since arriving in the UK and security was quite rigorous, but a very cool place to visit. Ceci and I were both grateful to call it a day when our bus arrived at 8.50.

            The next day, we celebrated the end of the Hilary term with the other students in my Programme with a luncheon. Later, after visiting a few local museums, she and I celebrated Mardi Gras with the students of the church by eating pancakes. Of course, an American would really call them crepes, but they were quite delicious all the same.

            Wednesday, the Programme took a tour of a castle and the house of the past Prime Minister, Benjamin Disraeli. My photos will tell the story better than I can, but one thing one doesn’t expect about a castle is the cold. Broughton Castle was absolutely freezing! Even in the English winter, the weather outdoors was warmer than inside.

            Thursday was quiet for both Ceci and I; I went to my last tutorial of the term and she did a little exploration of Oxford with the aid of a map.

            The last day of Cecilia’s stay, Friday, we spent almost entirely in London. We toured Westminster Abbey and the Royal Bank museum, in addition to seeing Harrods and Hyde Park by the light of the setting sun. We caught our bus back to Oxford, then we said our goodbyes at the bus station at Gloucester Green before she took the coach back to Gatwick Airport.

            I definitely feel that I’ve seen quite a bit of London that I hadn’t before. I can now say that I’ve been to see the Palace and photographed Big Ben, like every tourist of London before me. But it is somehow important to do all of those things while you have the opportunity. I’m quickly realizing how rapidly the first term has vanished. There are fourteen brief weeks until I leave Europe indefinitely. I’m scared; this place is too wonderful. I want to cling to every moment, remember every worn cobblestone and cherish those rare, precious times when I catch myself saying “lift” instead of “elevator” or writing “trainers” on my packing list, instead of “tennis shoes” or “sneakers.” I’ve also discovered that America as a whole is missing out on a really fantastic sport: rugby. We should definitely take a tip from the Europeans and adopt this game. None of the timorous padding or helmets of American Football, nor are there any of the constant interruptions of action between plays. My only criticism of this wonderful sport is its terminology; apparently the equivalent of a “touchdown” is a “try.” Doesn’t that sound like a mere attempt, not success?