We are now provisional members of Ko Jo Kai. Do not ask me what this means. Nobody even knows. We do not have to wear cream opaque tights with brown close toed shoes, brown knee length skirts and a cream linen shirt that would fit my father quite nicely. This is sweet relief. We do not have to proudly wear our pledge pins over our heart or carry our nunu notebooks with our names showing at all times. These are all wonderful things. Two weeks was long enough (although we did have our sponsor who has been a sponsor for 39 years tell us to suck it up because she had to do that all semester). But the problem is what we do not know. We do not know if we still have to respect Kojie park and Kojie clock. We do not know if we still have to say koneecheewa to every Kojie we see. We do not know if we are allowed in the student center before chapel. We do know we cheer for the Ko Jo Kai Champ intramural football games and absolutely CANNOT wear pink and green. But there is a constant fear of not realizing what we are and are not required to do. For those of you who have seen the movie "O Brother Where Are Thou?" I think I see Kojies in my mind as the man with the scary goggles and the dog on a leash waiting in the shadows for me. It's truly unnerving.
Last weekend was the Galaxy and GSP guys clubs grubs. Grub is put on by the club pledges for the club members-it is a themed dinner where the pledges entertain everyone with skits. It is a miserable experience for those who are pledging, and I actually felt nauseated throughout the process, even when the skits were funny. Because God forbid your skit is not funny. It is painful. As I sat there, dressed like a Greek goddess for the theme, I felt like crying. Crying. For my future self who will be forced to endure the same. Oh, I forgot to mention that my date showed up on my doorstep without a shirt on, and with homemade animal legs on, because he was what? A faun. I was less than comfortable and wouldn't let him in my house for a few minutes. But then I felt bad. It was his grub after all, so he should be a faun if that's what he wants. I have one picture with him from the entire night. The one taken by the photographer.
This weekend is our grub. The theme is "I NuNu We Were Meant to be Together." I would tell you our plans for skits but they are top secret for now. So you will all just have to hold your horses as I am so sure you will. I do not even know what to dress up as yet, but would love any suggestions any of you may have.
I had my first midterm last night. It went better than expected. Or at least I hope it did. I turned in two papers for my Public Administration class yesterday and one for my Honors Seminar in the Arts today. I am tired. I hate Romeo and Juliet. I hope never to see any interpretation of it ever again. I hate this class. I cannot believe I am being forced to submit to the strange and erratic rants of a middle aged man who seems determined to live vicariously through strange Shakespearean characters. It makes me uncomfortable.
Ugh. I cannot wait to get out of Abilene for a little while.
Tuesday, 9 October 2007
Tuesday, 11 September 2007
Not Shorts Weather
I am back in Abilene, Texas. Normally I would take this opportunity to complain about the heat and humidity. I cannot do that right now. It is probably about 65 degrees outside. I am wearing shorts and a sleeveless shirt. My simple solution was to change to heels instead of flip flops and pull a cardigan on over my sleeveless shirt. This is not sufficient. I am still wearing shorts. My legs are cold. I miss the days of wearing the same jeans 7 days in a row and pulling a sweatshirt on like in Oxford. Everyone says that's what you wear every day in college. This is absolutely untrue...at least at ACU. These are the stomping grounds for the up and coming fashion and hair styles. The sidewalks are catwalks and every morning, at 11 when you walk up the stairs to find your same seat in chapel, you know you are making that day's debut into society. Yes, every day is a new entrance into that society. So a day every two weeks in the comfy jeans and a sweatshirt is ok. But no, this is not an acceptable every day outfit. Unless you're the kid who really does eat cereal for every meal and smells kind of like it....and socks. So I am cold. In Abilene. At least I have my breakfast tea to warm me up...just a bit.
Friday, 6 April 2007
Monday, 2 April 2007
Roma Roma. Italy part One-ah!
Well I made it back from Italy. I do not know if Oxford has ever felt more like home to me. Getting back on Monday was absolutely wonderful. We could breathe again. So, in 9 days in Italy, I went to Rome, Assisi, Florence, Pisa, La Spezia, all five villages of the Cinque Terre, Milan and Bergamo. I cannot say what my favorite was, by any means. It was my second visit to Rome and Florence, and Italy still takes the place in my heart as my favorite place in the world so far. But this trip was less like a meal and more like a feast. Exhausting, to say the least. Rome was the most magnificent. Florence was the most artistic. Pisa was the most surreal. The Cinque Terre was the most perfect. Milan was the most modern. So, all in all, this trip provided me with a very thorough coverage of Italy, especially when you include the trains from every place to the next, which gave us a view of both the Umbrian and Tuscany countrysides. My first night in Rome, a few of us were left behind by the big group when they left the hotel for a tour, so we made our own way across the city to the Trevi Fountain, where we had our first gelato (AMAZING…I believe it drips from the lips of the Italian gods), then to the Spanish steps, which we climbed to the top of, then back to the hotel. It was St. Patrick’s Day, so crazy Irish Italians were everywhere, besplendored in their greenery. This allowed me to get in the Trevi Fountain and the fountain at the Spanish Steps without raising very many eyebrows, as everyone was in on the party, it seemed. Ireland did win after all. Futbol that is. Our tour guide almost drove everyone insane during the day, filling our heads with too many popes to take a single one of the poor men very seriously and enough dates that it became much easier for all of us to effectively tune him out. We made it over to the Vatican, St. Peter’s in time to be blessed by the Pope, though, which was incredible. He was definitely my number one person I wanted to see while I was there, the equivalent to my desire to see Tony Blair here in England, which, unfortunately, is yet to work out. And, while I did not get the private audience with him I had hoped for, it was truly quite an experience to see the masses gather under him from all over the world, for this single blessing, like a modern pilgrimage. I also met the love of my Italian life on the top of St. Peter’s because a very few of us made the trek to the very top of the Dome of St. Peter’s for a view of Rome from above, and there I found the most beautiful man I think I have ever laid eyes or nostrils on. (He smelled amazing, you see). He spoke to me. It was beautiful. “You cannot see the Coliseum from here.” Those were his words. But you should of heard the way they sounded coming from his beautiful Italian mouth. My group finally tore me away. But I succeeded in taking one last dramatic look behind me at him, and we made eye contact and smiled. We’ve named him St. Peter’s Heater. Fitting, I think. We walked back across town beside the river Tiber to the Hotel to rest. Then that night walked all around and had spaghetti and wine at a wonderful little Italian restaurant with a very friendly waiter, right on the Piazza Navona (I got in the fountain there as well, of course). It was perfect. Then we had gelato at the oldest shop in the city. It dates back to the 1400s. I had gelato every night I was in Italy and am having serious withdrawals. We also went to the Trevi Fountain every night we were in Rome. I only got in once, though. The next day we went to the Forum and the Coliseum and the most unthinkable thing happened. While I was perched on an overturned column inside the Coliseum, peeling myself an orange I had stolen from the hotel breakfast that morning, I looked up and, I kid you not, watched a guy I knew from camp in Oklahoma in high school, walk right by me. I was shocked to say the least. So shocked that I did nothing. I let him walk by and regretted it for days after. I mean, what are the odds?? So that was pretty amazing. But my most memorable visit to any one place in Rome was after this, when we visited the prison where Paul was kept right up until he was killed. It was absolutely incredible to stand down there in the tiny room. It really does not attract all that many visitors, apparently, although when we were there it was raining quite steadily outside. But you could almost feel the depth of where you stood, which a lot of people were disappointed not to have felt in the glorious Coliseum. After this, a few of us trudged through the now pouring rain to run in the Circus Maximus. That night, we went back to the Trevi one last time, and the next morning, said goodbye to glorious Rome. And it’s delightful bloody oranges.
Saturday, 31 March 2007
Thursday, 15 March 2007
Wednesday, 14 March 2007
ah yes, the misery forgotten.
my mother has reminded me that if forgot to mention a minor panic attack i had on the bus to cardiff, during which i full expected to vomit all over myself, and, as it was a severely cramped space, would have been quite unfortunate for anyone in my near vicinity. i noticed brian shifting further and further away from me in his seat next to me. i could not have been happier to exit a vehicle.
and it rained. a lot. while we were in wales. the only time it did not rain was our day at treco bay. thank the good lord. so...our first night and only night there was miserable one could say. although oddly fitting, considering the whole weekend. see, there were two of us with umbrellas and three of us without. and it was quite cold. i fortunately had a scarf that made me look a bit muslim, but kept my head dry while the rest of me was cold. brian and kelline, however, were not quite so lucky. i do not recall the last time i saw someone look quite that pathetic. but we stayed strong. brian thanked me for being positive. i think i was desperate. but we found a wonderful pub there in cardiff, called the cottage and stayed there playing connect four and MASH for about two hours to try to warm ourselves up. then played CLUEDO (british clue) and pool at the hostel. we called it an early night around midnight but probably only got two to three hours sleep each max. thanks to the raucous nature of the hostel. the walls were literally shaking with people pounding up and down the stairs from the time we laid down until about 5 30 in the morning. i am not exaggerating. and at one point, a man burst into our room (we were not the only ones in there mind you) shouted something and then laughed and left again.
so it was quite the hostel experience. this should explain the extreme exhaustion that is evident in the pictures from wales i will post as soon as i can.
so...yes...there were some miserable bits. but really, it was a great experience. i do not regret it one bit. viva la wales.
and it rained. a lot. while we were in wales. the only time it did not rain was our day at treco bay. thank the good lord. so...our first night and only night there was miserable one could say. although oddly fitting, considering the whole weekend. see, there were two of us with umbrellas and three of us without. and it was quite cold. i fortunately had a scarf that made me look a bit muslim, but kept my head dry while the rest of me was cold. brian and kelline, however, were not quite so lucky. i do not recall the last time i saw someone look quite that pathetic. but we stayed strong. brian thanked me for being positive. i think i was desperate. but we found a wonderful pub there in cardiff, called the cottage and stayed there playing connect four and MASH for about two hours to try to warm ourselves up. then played CLUEDO (british clue) and pool at the hostel. we called it an early night around midnight but probably only got two to three hours sleep each max. thanks to the raucous nature of the hostel. the walls were literally shaking with people pounding up and down the stairs from the time we laid down until about 5 30 in the morning. i am not exaggerating. and at one point, a man burst into our room (we were not the only ones in there mind you) shouted something and then laughed and left again.
so it was quite the hostel experience. this should explain the extreme exhaustion that is evident in the pictures from wales i will post as soon as i can.
so...yes...there were some miserable bits. but really, it was a great experience. i do not regret it one bit. viva la wales.
Tuesday, 13 March 2007
ha. just a week in the life.
this week has allowed me to sit down and laugh at my life here just a bit. the oddities and unexpected delights. i traveled to wales last weekend, over a week now i mean. THE celtic music festival of wales, at treco bay, our reason for going, turned out to be nothing but a few small groups of dancers, a band, and some marching kilt-sporting bagpipers, but we had an amazing day on a beach there. and we got to eat at wagamamma's on sunday in london, which i love. best noodles in the world. wednesday i went back to london, for a movie premiere, for factory girl, with katie and leslie. it didn't happen either. apparently the website posted the wrong date and it is actually tonight in london. needless to say, i am sitting in my room in london. i will be missing it. leslie also did not find the boots she wanted. i did not find a nut man to buy nuts from. and the london eye was closed when we made it over there to redeem our ridiculous trip. but we spent almost an hour making friends with two police officers in leicester square that said if i got hit by a bus it would be a great loss to mankind, a beautiful flower that never had the chance to bloom. i thought that was nice. and we got to eat with sarah amelang, ms. camille and elizabeth, which the three of us enjoyed thoroughly. we sat on the steps under the london eye sticking yogurt covered raisins up our noses...well...i did. and we got ben and jerry's shakes at piccadilly circus, where i stood outside the theatre that daniel radcliffe, aka harry potter, is performing in. i am determind that is not as close to him as i will get. and we made it home around midnight. i spent friday afternoon with sarah and ms. camille and elizabeth here in oxford, and got to eat at the eagle and child, my favorite haunt, and got ice cream and saw christ church cathedral. it was absolutely wonderful having them here, and ridiculous combination as always. i spent all day saturday painting an old british man's kitchen, which was quite a little ordeal, but a lot more fun than i anticipated. he was fun and had excellent taste in music. he had seen jim morrison live in london.
then sunday morning capped it all off. i slept in (i go to church at night) and woke up and was reading when i started smelling smoke...but i ignored it. people are stupid. always leaving stoves on and burning things. but the smell got stronger. and the fire alarm started going off. this is like...the fifth time, but this time it wouldnt stop. and the smell got really strong. so i went out into the hall, and saw smoke coming up the stairs from the guys floor below me so i run down the stairs. i get down there..its only a few stairs and trevor comes out of his room and then brian, in his boxers, appears out of the kitchen followed by some white billowing smoke. i went to look in the kitchen but was overcome by coughing. i have never seen that much smoke in a room.
so i go back upstairs to heat up water for tea to clear my insides and opened the window in my kitchen and lean out to watch smoke coming out of the window below me, as that is the guys kitchen. and i look up to see a double decker red tour bus driving by the house down our street, which i hadnt realized they had done before. its not exactly a busy street by any means. and the people stared at me. and i realized. i was a sight. for them. some oxfordian girl hanging out a window with her cup of tea. and so i waved. they waved back. and the smoke poured on out the window below me.
brian had burned sausages. so i got to sing "brian started the fire" which made my day. if youve seen the office, you understand.
it was a good day. a good week.
in oxford.
then sunday morning capped it all off. i slept in (i go to church at night) and woke up and was reading when i started smelling smoke...but i ignored it. people are stupid. always leaving stoves on and burning things. but the smell got stronger. and the fire alarm started going off. this is like...the fifth time, but this time it wouldnt stop. and the smell got really strong. so i went out into the hall, and saw smoke coming up the stairs from the guys floor below me so i run down the stairs. i get down there..its only a few stairs and trevor comes out of his room and then brian, in his boxers, appears out of the kitchen followed by some white billowing smoke. i went to look in the kitchen but was overcome by coughing. i have never seen that much smoke in a room.
so i go back upstairs to heat up water for tea to clear my insides and opened the window in my kitchen and lean out to watch smoke coming out of the window below me, as that is the guys kitchen. and i look up to see a double decker red tour bus driving by the house down our street, which i hadnt realized they had done before. its not exactly a busy street by any means. and the people stared at me. and i realized. i was a sight. for them. some oxfordian girl hanging out a window with her cup of tea. and so i waved. they waved back. and the smoke poured on out the window below me.
brian had burned sausages. so i got to sing "brian started the fire" which made my day. if youve seen the office, you understand.
it was a good day. a good week.
in oxford.
Thursday, 8 March 2007
Wednesday, 28 February 2007
A Pasty for you, Archbishop?
Hmm…I have been trying to debate whether or not to finally post my Paris blog. It is quite an overwhelming and daunting task to type up and edit the story of the best weekend of your life then copy and paste it to the right constitution to be served up pretty and nice for public consumption on an internet blog. I know that I have to do this though. So I will do it my way.
But not yet.
Today is February 28. I went to Paris on February 15. So this is more of a catch up to help myself take a step forward, clear the debris out of the way that has gathered in my path from avoiding this blog for the Paris problem, and sort of post a happy little update of my Oxford existence.
Last weekend I went to Canterbury, a three hour bus ride from Oxford, with our entire 40 some odd person group, where we visited the ruins of St. Augustine’s Abbey, then to a “hospital” that was a hostel of the Middle Ages, during the times that Chaucer wrote Canterbury Tales (this is from the word hospitality), went to get some delicious pasties, that were positively delicious, then on to THE Canterbury Cathedral, seat of the Archbishop of Canterbury, the head of England’s Anglican Church, and so once the right hand man of the monarch when the monarchy truly reigned, before Parliament. Besides the pasties (of course), I think my favorite site was that of St. Augustine’s Abbey. My pastie was a Steak and Ale pasty, so it is a fried bread outer sort of pita fold-over shape (although nothing like a pita), with an ale gravy filling and wonderful chunks of steak. St. Augustine’s Abbey, on the other hand was a medieval abbey, destroyed by Henry VIII, so that now only majestic and enchanting ruins stands. It was awe-inspiring to say the least, with the stones standing out in stark contrast to the vividly green grass against the overcast sky, with the silhouette of the Cathedral in the not too distant distance. I loved it even more than the majesty of the grand Gothic Cathedral, which was fascinating as well, a pilgrimage site, as it was here that Thomas Beckett was murdered.
The most exciting part of the day for Janine and Jackie, two of our teachers here, who ate at the same pasty shop we did, was seeing THE ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY, who apparently came in right after us and was directly behind us in line with his son, which they compared to seeing the Pope in Italy at a McDonald’s or gelato stand. So, even in our oblivion, that was pretty dang exciting.
We did not get back until around 9 or so that night, so it was a long but exciting day.
We are done with our first round of tests, and the first tests, in my opinion, are always the hardest, so it is wonderful to have that out of the way. I did well on my English exam, the only one I have gotten back so far, but the International Studies Great Britain is the one I am tied up in knots about.
This weekend, me and four of my friends, three girls and one guy, leave at 7 30 to catch the 8am bus to London, as I have to pick up coffee and a croissant on the way, then we take a three hour bus from London to Wales that leaves at 11. We will spend Friday in Cardiff, the capitol, which is where we are staying that night, visiting castles in the area, and finding a good Welsh pub to experience. Then we will spend all of Saturday at THE CELTIC MUSIC FESTIVAL OF WALES in Treco Bay, with music and dancing and all sorts of good Welsh fun, which should be thoroughly wonderful and cultural. We’ll have a picnic on the coast and then had back to London on a bus around 6, stay the night in London, to walk around and see what they have not seen on Sunday, and I am taking them to Wagamamma’s the noodle house of noodle houses that is a new obsession for me, though I have only been once. Then we will head back to Oxford Sunday night.
All in all, it is one amazing weekend after another with a whole lot of studying, reading and writing in between. We start our tutorials this week. So that’s a bit of pressure and stress. But we will be working on those for the rest of the semester. I am in the INternation Politics Tutorial and plan on pursuing British Relations with Africa, after the colonization age, in the modern world. So that should be fairly challenging but very interesting.
That’s all for now. Prepare yourselves for the Paris blog.
Peace and love.
But not yet.
Today is February 28. I went to Paris on February 15. So this is more of a catch up to help myself take a step forward, clear the debris out of the way that has gathered in my path from avoiding this blog for the Paris problem, and sort of post a happy little update of my Oxford existence.
Last weekend I went to Canterbury, a three hour bus ride from Oxford, with our entire 40 some odd person group, where we visited the ruins of St. Augustine’s Abbey, then to a “hospital” that was a hostel of the Middle Ages, during the times that Chaucer wrote Canterbury Tales (this is from the word hospitality), went to get some delicious pasties, that were positively delicious, then on to THE Canterbury Cathedral, seat of the Archbishop of Canterbury, the head of England’s Anglican Church, and so once the right hand man of the monarch when the monarchy truly reigned, before Parliament. Besides the pasties (of course), I think my favorite site was that of St. Augustine’s Abbey. My pastie was a Steak and Ale pasty, so it is a fried bread outer sort of pita fold-over shape (although nothing like a pita), with an ale gravy filling and wonderful chunks of steak. St. Augustine’s Abbey, on the other hand was a medieval abbey, destroyed by Henry VIII, so that now only majestic and enchanting ruins stands. It was awe-inspiring to say the least, with the stones standing out in stark contrast to the vividly green grass against the overcast sky, with the silhouette of the Cathedral in the not too distant distance. I loved it even more than the majesty of the grand Gothic Cathedral, which was fascinating as well, a pilgrimage site, as it was here that Thomas Beckett was murdered.
The most exciting part of the day for Janine and Jackie, two of our teachers here, who ate at the same pasty shop we did, was seeing THE ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY, who apparently came in right after us and was directly behind us in line with his son, which they compared to seeing the Pope in Italy at a McDonald’s or gelato stand. So, even in our oblivion, that was pretty dang exciting.
We did not get back until around 9 or so that night, so it was a long but exciting day.
We are done with our first round of tests, and the first tests, in my opinion, are always the hardest, so it is wonderful to have that out of the way. I did well on my English exam, the only one I have gotten back so far, but the International Studies Great Britain is the one I am tied up in knots about.
This weekend, me and four of my friends, three girls and one guy, leave at 7 30 to catch the 8am bus to London, as I have to pick up coffee and a croissant on the way, then we take a three hour bus from London to Wales that leaves at 11. We will spend Friday in Cardiff, the capitol, which is where we are staying that night, visiting castles in the area, and finding a good Welsh pub to experience. Then we will spend all of Saturday at THE CELTIC MUSIC FESTIVAL OF WALES in Treco Bay, with music and dancing and all sorts of good Welsh fun, which should be thoroughly wonderful and cultural. We’ll have a picnic on the coast and then had back to London on a bus around 6, stay the night in London, to walk around and see what they have not seen on Sunday, and I am taking them to Wagamamma’s the noodle house of noodle houses that is a new obsession for me, though I have only been once. Then we will head back to Oxford Sunday night.
All in all, it is one amazing weekend after another with a whole lot of studying, reading and writing in between. We start our tutorials this week. So that’s a bit of pressure and stress. But we will be working on those for the rest of the semester. I am in the INternation Politics Tutorial and plan on pursuing British Relations with Africa, after the colonization age, in the modern world. So that should be fairly challenging but very interesting.
That’s all for now. Prepare yourselves for the Paris blog.
Peace and love.
Monday, 12 February 2007
Tuesday, 6 February 2007
london, here we come. oh no, god bless you.
Hello all,
I am exhausted, and hungry and ecstatic. I will probably stay most of those things for months, and I am absolutely comfortable with that. Because I stay up to catch a ride back from London and watch the Colts win the Super Bowl. Oh yeeah baby Oh yeaaah. I am hungry to save money, and can walk down the street to get chips for a pound. I am ecstatic because I watched the Colts win the Super Bowl. Oh yeaah baby. It was not over until 3:30 or so here. I may have had to study Central and South America while I did it, but I didn’t miss a kick, or fumble, or turnover.
I went to London this weekend. We left at 8:50 Friday morning and I got back at 8:55 Sunday night. I would like to say that I had learned from my trips to Germany, Mexico and Italy to pack light, pack the necessities. And then it comes time to pack for London, I have a conveniently huge and cavernousish backpack, and need different clothes to look smoking if I go out for a (safe and responsible) night on the town in London. And so I end up, focusing on breathing in and out while the entire group jogs the miles (literally) from the house to the train station. It was a near-collapse experience. But we made it. People laughed at me, but they were looking at my back, not back at me, so they could laugh all they wanted. I would not be last. And I was carrying my own bag. So I was okay with that. I totally crashed out on the train to London though, next to a peculiarly smelling man, with my IPOD ears in, and after I exited the train, I realized that I was not certain I had just exited at the right station, and could not see any of my group. Luckily, I was just one of the first ones out, and, while I went through the gate too soon and missed the orientation talk that all but me and Katie endured, I watched them have it from afar, and it gave Sarah (the most incredible friend in the world) time to make it to the station to get my bag from me, as I could not take it into Parliament with me. That thing could have contained a remote control explosive tank. And I don’t think Parliament would be comfortable with that. I did look pretty hardcore, though.
Anyhow, I ended up in the group that went to Brixton, the Jamaican slum-like area of London, and it was a very interesting experience. I did not buy anything or eat anything, and I am not sure everyone in my small group appreciated the experience, but the most valuable part of that for me, was considering that I was about to visit Parliament, and the stark contrast was a very very fascinating one. Now, mind you, in all my insightful highmindedness, gave in and crossed the street to get a Costa frozen coffee in a very nice mall-like complex, watching the more impoverished area fumble about in their diversity just out the window across the street from me. The perspective was an enlightening one to say the least.
Me, Katie and Leslie then got on the Tube to go to their hostel, and soon found out that we knew the right Tube stop, but nothing else, not the name or the address or anything else. So we wandered around for two hours, I accidentally walked down the back stairs to an Italian kitchen much to the owners disgruntlement, and talked to shopkeepers and Italian florists, finally getting some information and finding the hostel. We dropped off their stuff. It was 3:25. We were supposed to be at Parliament at 3:40. At 4:00, we came tearing out of the Tube station into the heart of London, and I ended up holding my pants up with one hand, and my shoes in the other, hurtling down the sidewalk towards the magnificent Parliament building as I darted between the poor and yet surprisingly undismayed Londoners. At least I wasn’t taking pictures while I was running. That would have made me a little bit more obvious and embarrassing.
Ron was waiting outside for us and so we were escorted in to catch up with one of our groups, sweating and panting, walking in the same steps of kings, queens, presidents, and nobility. It was amazing, ornate, splendor. The tour guide was great, the building was breathtaking, and we stood in the room we had watched Tony Blair defend himself in only days before. I loved it.
I then stepped outside and met Sarah Amelang outside the fence, on the corner between Parliament and Westminster Abbey, strolled down towards Big Ben and bought some heavenly nuts on Westminster Bridge, and we stood there, looking out over the Thames at the night lights of London and the lit-up London Eye Ferris Wheel. It was surreal. It was perfect.
The weekend flew by in a blur of wonder and excitement. We got dressed up and went out to see the town, took ridiculous amounts of pictures, sat in pubs, walked through Regents Park (where they filmed a bit of 101 Dalmatians), walked to Camden (punk central of London, basically Hot Topic’s heaven) navigated the Tube like grown-ups, experienced the London concert scene when we went to a Hellogoodbye, Plain White Ts concert (AMAAZING), then went and saw them again after walking around downtown on Sunday, for free at Harrod’s the Mecca of shoppers, and met them, only to argue about the SuperBowl, as they are from Chicago.
Things you should know more about…
Harrod’s is known for being the largest department store in the world. What they do not tell you, and in this case, ignorance is not bliss, is that it is a sort of Egyptian palace of wonders and delight, masked as a “department store, that is, I think, I got quite lost actually, four stories or five or infinity. We finally managed our way to the guitar exhibition on the third floor, which is an exhibition dedicated to the change that rock can make in your life and in your world, of guitars custom designed by musicians. and gathered with the small group of about 100 people around a little stage, to the right of which was a small bar, and to the left, a Don Perignon champagne bar, all in a Dillar’s or Neiman Marcus like setting. We watched the Plain White Ts perform AGAIN from much much closer, so much so we could see up their noses, they put on an incredible show, and then to meet them you had to buy their CD. Well, like two real fans, Sarah and I both already owned their CDs and so we were not going to buy them again. So I simply walked up to the dividing cord and explained the situation to them, we had quite a pleasant conversation, although they called security when they found out we were Colts fans, and got pictures. So I consider it a successful venture.
Oh. And they have perfume in the ladies toilette for you to spritz yourself with. And spritz I did. Sarah and I had dinner at her school refectory then headed to the Victoria coach station just in time for my bus, and I ended up in line behind some pirate characters. Like right out of Pirates of the Caribbean, I kid you not. Hey, for all I know, they were real pirates. It was London after all. Pirates run rampant there. Or so I hear. I ended up sitting next to a Jude Law-ish character the whole ride home. Sweet bliss. I offered prayers of gratitude up to God. And I offered a mini Cadbury egg to my fellow passenger which resulted in a nice little bit of conversation with him. That was it. But I do believe that counts as my second fling. First the laundry room. Now the bus.
So, I clocked it back home just in time for the devo, and started the next morning, hitting the ground running. So happy February folks. God bless America and the Queen.
your k.
p.s. they do not say god bless you here. when sarah did, the man said ", oh. that's nice." and exited the tube.
I am exhausted, and hungry and ecstatic. I will probably stay most of those things for months, and I am absolutely comfortable with that. Because I stay up to catch a ride back from London and watch the Colts win the Super Bowl. Oh yeeah baby Oh yeaaah. I am hungry to save money, and can walk down the street to get chips for a pound. I am ecstatic because I watched the Colts win the Super Bowl. Oh yeaah baby. It was not over until 3:30 or so here. I may have had to study Central and South America while I did it, but I didn’t miss a kick, or fumble, or turnover.
I went to London this weekend. We left at 8:50 Friday morning and I got back at 8:55 Sunday night. I would like to say that I had learned from my trips to Germany, Mexico and Italy to pack light, pack the necessities. And then it comes time to pack for London, I have a conveniently huge and cavernousish backpack, and need different clothes to look smoking if I go out for a (safe and responsible) night on the town in London. And so I end up, focusing on breathing in and out while the entire group jogs the miles (literally) from the house to the train station. It was a near-collapse experience. But we made it. People laughed at me, but they were looking at my back, not back at me, so they could laugh all they wanted. I would not be last. And I was carrying my own bag. So I was okay with that. I totally crashed out on the train to London though, next to a peculiarly smelling man, with my IPOD ears in, and after I exited the train, I realized that I was not certain I had just exited at the right station, and could not see any of my group. Luckily, I was just one of the first ones out, and, while I went through the gate too soon and missed the orientation talk that all but me and Katie endured, I watched them have it from afar, and it gave Sarah (the most incredible friend in the world) time to make it to the station to get my bag from me, as I could not take it into Parliament with me. That thing could have contained a remote control explosive tank. And I don’t think Parliament would be comfortable with that. I did look pretty hardcore, though.
Anyhow, I ended up in the group that went to Brixton, the Jamaican slum-like area of London, and it was a very interesting experience. I did not buy anything or eat anything, and I am not sure everyone in my small group appreciated the experience, but the most valuable part of that for me, was considering that I was about to visit Parliament, and the stark contrast was a very very fascinating one. Now, mind you, in all my insightful highmindedness, gave in and crossed the street to get a Costa frozen coffee in a very nice mall-like complex, watching the more impoverished area fumble about in their diversity just out the window across the street from me. The perspective was an enlightening one to say the least.
Me, Katie and Leslie then got on the Tube to go to their hostel, and soon found out that we knew the right Tube stop, but nothing else, not the name or the address or anything else. So we wandered around for two hours, I accidentally walked down the back stairs to an Italian kitchen much to the owners disgruntlement, and talked to shopkeepers and Italian florists, finally getting some information and finding the hostel. We dropped off their stuff. It was 3:25. We were supposed to be at Parliament at 3:40. At 4:00, we came tearing out of the Tube station into the heart of London, and I ended up holding my pants up with one hand, and my shoes in the other, hurtling down the sidewalk towards the magnificent Parliament building as I darted between the poor and yet surprisingly undismayed Londoners. At least I wasn’t taking pictures while I was running. That would have made me a little bit more obvious and embarrassing.
Ron was waiting outside for us and so we were escorted in to catch up with one of our groups, sweating and panting, walking in the same steps of kings, queens, presidents, and nobility. It was amazing, ornate, splendor. The tour guide was great, the building was breathtaking, and we stood in the room we had watched Tony Blair defend himself in only days before. I loved it.
I then stepped outside and met Sarah Amelang outside the fence, on the corner between Parliament and Westminster Abbey, strolled down towards Big Ben and bought some heavenly nuts on Westminster Bridge, and we stood there, looking out over the Thames at the night lights of London and the lit-up London Eye Ferris Wheel. It was surreal. It was perfect.
The weekend flew by in a blur of wonder and excitement. We got dressed up and went out to see the town, took ridiculous amounts of pictures, sat in pubs, walked through Regents Park (where they filmed a bit of 101 Dalmatians), walked to Camden (punk central of London, basically Hot Topic’s heaven) navigated the Tube like grown-ups, experienced the London concert scene when we went to a Hellogoodbye, Plain White Ts concert (AMAAZING), then went and saw them again after walking around downtown on Sunday, for free at Harrod’s the Mecca of shoppers, and met them, only to argue about the SuperBowl, as they are from Chicago.
Things you should know more about…
Harrod’s is known for being the largest department store in the world. What they do not tell you, and in this case, ignorance is not bliss, is that it is a sort of Egyptian palace of wonders and delight, masked as a “department store, that is, I think, I got quite lost actually, four stories or five or infinity. We finally managed our way to the guitar exhibition on the third floor, which is an exhibition dedicated to the change that rock can make in your life and in your world, of guitars custom designed by musicians. and gathered with the small group of about 100 people around a little stage, to the right of which was a small bar, and to the left, a Don Perignon champagne bar, all in a Dillar’s or Neiman Marcus like setting. We watched the Plain White Ts perform AGAIN from much much closer, so much so we could see up their noses, they put on an incredible show, and then to meet them you had to buy their CD. Well, like two real fans, Sarah and I both already owned their CDs and so we were not going to buy them again. So I simply walked up to the dividing cord and explained the situation to them, we had quite a pleasant conversation, although they called security when they found out we were Colts fans, and got pictures. So I consider it a successful venture.
Oh. And they have perfume in the ladies toilette for you to spritz yourself with. And spritz I did. Sarah and I had dinner at her school refectory then headed to the Victoria coach station just in time for my bus, and I ended up in line behind some pirate characters. Like right out of Pirates of the Caribbean, I kid you not. Hey, for all I know, they were real pirates. It was London after all. Pirates run rampant there. Or so I hear. I ended up sitting next to a Jude Law-ish character the whole ride home. Sweet bliss. I offered prayers of gratitude up to God. And I offered a mini Cadbury egg to my fellow passenger which resulted in a nice little bit of conversation with him. That was it. But I do believe that counts as my second fling. First the laundry room. Now the bus.
So, I clocked it back home just in time for the devo, and started the next morning, hitting the ground running. So happy February folks. God bless America and the Queen.
your k.
p.s. they do not say god bless you here. when sarah did, the man said ", oh. that's nice." and exited the tube.
Sunday, 28 January 2007
Friday, 26 January 2007
the first week. come and gone.
Dear friends and family,
We are officially done with our first week here in Oxford, and have actually been here a full seven days now. I'd like to think myself fully inundated in the English culture now. But that would be a bit of an exaggerated admittance or claim.
I still carry my purse with me wherever I go. I focus quite intently on the different coins when attempting to hurry up and pay for something. I laugh too loud. I ended up wandering into a neighboring village on Tuesday, after walking so far in the wrong direction, waiting to see a shorter route back than that from whence I came, to no avail. England English still sometimes sounds like a different language than my own to me. The one time I've ridden a bus was when I walked all the way to Marston, the neighboring village, and had to get back somehow. I was afraid I would end up in Wales or....perhaps the ocean. So apparently I have some sort of subconscious fear of the British transportation system. I always feel like everyone's staring at me, which probably has something to do with the fact that I'm always staring at everyone. I have learned not to say 'excuse me' constantly as I was very recently informed that one only says this when one has passed gas, or, perhaps, belched. So numerous poor innocent bystanders believe me to be an overtly honest American regarding my personal bodily functions. And I can't seem to resist pulling out my camera in public places to take pictures every five minutes.
But I am getting there.
I walk miles every day. With the exception of today. I rested. I finally look to the left before crossing a one way street, which as important, for the prevention of unexpected infliction of serious bodily harm. I attended St. Aldates for church on Sunday morning. It's an Evangelical Anglican church. And I loved it. A pub is my new Starbucks where I go to write. Or hang out. I try to restrain myself and only smile slightly rather than grinning outright at strangers on the sidewalk, as it seems to make the British uncomfortable. I bought concerts to a concert in London for next weekend. I adore milk in my hot tea (although, it still has to be sweet. I am a Texan after all). I have discovered a strong affinity for British poets, such as Keats, Wordsworth, Donne and writers like Thomas Paine and Mary Wollstonecraft. I eat crackers called biscuists with my tea. I've not verbally accosted any of the attractive British boys I've seen. And I've seen my fair share of surprisingly attractive British boys. I am developing a tendency to abuse the word 'iconic' in the frequency of my use of it, as it seems to be a favorite here. I bought a three pound red plaid poncho at the market yesterday, in the city centre. I actually follow the conflict between Blair and Gordon, amused by political satirical comics illustrating said conflict. My own new Bush. Though I guess I didn't vote for either one.
I hear the bells from the church across the street outside my window. I still cannot believe I'll be living here for four months. I am so so blessed.
We already have a pseudo-couple developing among us. Only a week in. Don't worry, Daddy. I am not involved in any way. You know better. Somehow, mine and Katie's room has become the room to come to other than the common room or stair landings, which is usually quite nice, except that I have to always be sure to be decently dressed and have my bed made since it functions as a couch, and people tend to just enter without much warning or knocking. This afternoon, for example, four girls trickled in and just chilled. Bud came in and played guitar. Brian came in and parked himself on the floor, seeing what everyone was up to this weekend. And Trevor came in and plopped himself down on my bed, with his bowl of dried cereal, chomping away, like we were in his room. All of them just hangin out in here. It's nice. We seem comfortable. Like we're home.
Sarah A is supposed to come tomorrow, if she feels better, and it's about time. I don't know how much longer I could have lasted without a visit from or to her. We are in the same country still, after all. I'm getting a library card. And going to the park in the morning. I may not be the neo-Brit, quite yet. But I am not just the American in England either. I am changing. Every moment, like we tend to do.
As Lord Byron wrote,
"I knew that nought was lasting, but now even
Change grows too changeable without being new;
Nought's permanent among the human race."
Write me. I love you.
~k.
We are officially done with our first week here in Oxford, and have actually been here a full seven days now. I'd like to think myself fully inundated in the English culture now. But that would be a bit of an exaggerated admittance or claim.
I still carry my purse with me wherever I go. I focus quite intently on the different coins when attempting to hurry up and pay for something. I laugh too loud. I ended up wandering into a neighboring village on Tuesday, after walking so far in the wrong direction, waiting to see a shorter route back than that from whence I came, to no avail. England English still sometimes sounds like a different language than my own to me. The one time I've ridden a bus was when I walked all the way to Marston, the neighboring village, and had to get back somehow. I was afraid I would end up in Wales or....perhaps the ocean. So apparently I have some sort of subconscious fear of the British transportation system. I always feel like everyone's staring at me, which probably has something to do with the fact that I'm always staring at everyone. I have learned not to say 'excuse me' constantly as I was very recently informed that one only says this when one has passed gas, or, perhaps, belched. So numerous poor innocent bystanders believe me to be an overtly honest American regarding my personal bodily functions. And I can't seem to resist pulling out my camera in public places to take pictures every five minutes.
But I am getting there.
I walk miles every day. With the exception of today. I rested. I finally look to the left before crossing a one way street, which as important, for the prevention of unexpected infliction of serious bodily harm. I attended St. Aldates for church on Sunday morning. It's an Evangelical Anglican church. And I loved it. A pub is my new Starbucks where I go to write. Or hang out. I try to restrain myself and only smile slightly rather than grinning outright at strangers on the sidewalk, as it seems to make the British uncomfortable. I bought concerts to a concert in London for next weekend. I adore milk in my hot tea (although, it still has to be sweet. I am a Texan after all). I have discovered a strong affinity for British poets, such as Keats, Wordsworth, Donne and writers like Thomas Paine and Mary Wollstonecraft. I eat crackers called biscuists with my tea. I've not verbally accosted any of the attractive British boys I've seen. And I've seen my fair share of surprisingly attractive British boys. I am developing a tendency to abuse the word 'iconic' in the frequency of my use of it, as it seems to be a favorite here. I bought a three pound red plaid poncho at the market yesterday, in the city centre. I actually follow the conflict between Blair and Gordon, amused by political satirical comics illustrating said conflict. My own new Bush. Though I guess I didn't vote for either one.
I hear the bells from the church across the street outside my window. I still cannot believe I'll be living here for four months. I am so so blessed.
We already have a pseudo-couple developing among us. Only a week in. Don't worry, Daddy. I am not involved in any way. You know better. Somehow, mine and Katie's room has become the room to come to other than the common room or stair landings, which is usually quite nice, except that I have to always be sure to be decently dressed and have my bed made since it functions as a couch, and people tend to just enter without much warning or knocking. This afternoon, for example, four girls trickled in and just chilled. Bud came in and played guitar. Brian came in and parked himself on the floor, seeing what everyone was up to this weekend. And Trevor came in and plopped himself down on my bed, with his bowl of dried cereal, chomping away, like we were in his room. All of them just hangin out in here. It's nice. We seem comfortable. Like we're home.
Sarah A is supposed to come tomorrow, if she feels better, and it's about time. I don't know how much longer I could have lasted without a visit from or to her. We are in the same country still, after all. I'm getting a library card. And going to the park in the morning. I may not be the neo-Brit, quite yet. But I am not just the American in England either. I am changing. Every moment, like we tend to do.
As Lord Byron wrote,
"I knew that nought was lasting, but now even
Change grows too changeable without being new;
Nought's permanent among the human race."
Write me. I love you.
~k.
a little address on canterbury road.
kate, lady kathryn, miss k (or whatever you so choose) whitworth
9 Canterbury Road
OX2 6LU OXFORD
UNITED KINGDOM
Write me, at least once, please as many times as you possibly can. Or I will send Tony Blair on a miniature pony right after you. Don't you dare think I won't. So love me. Write Me. I will write you back. It will be a beautiful thing.
ciao.
9 Canterbury Road
OX2 6LU OXFORD
UNITED KINGDOM
Write me, at least once, please as many times as you possibly can. Or I will send Tony Blair on a miniature pony right after you. Don't you dare think I won't. So love me. Write Me. I will write you back. It will be a beautiful thing.
ciao.
hello, jude law.
greetings friends and family,
per popular request, i am starting this blog to save myself and all of you the trouble of the e-mailing process as means of an update. the sole purpose of this blog is to write for all those back home of all, or almost all..., of my experiences while i study abroad in oxford, england. i must warn you, that this is a first for me, and i can guarantee you that my thoughts will most likely come in all forms and colors, whether it be narrative, poetry, song lyrics, or simply pictures, i hope to share my experience with you to the fullest extent possible. so please enjoy. cruise through and just look for interesting points, or pore over eveyr blog looking for subtext and metaphor in between every line. and please, let me know if i'm not focusing enough on some things and too much on others, etc. as this is really for y'all. i have a journal for me. and DAGNABIT. you better write me while i am here. i don't do one-way relationships. that just is downrigh unfair. this is a give and take situation. so write me. i could not ask for me. i promise you it would be the highlight of my week, with the exception of the week i will be in italy perhaps.
now that all of that is out of the way, i will try to provide you with the briefest synopsis possible of my trip to and first few days at oxford.
we were supposed to leave abilene on a bus for dallas on wednesday, but thanks to the perfectly ironic blanket of snow we woke up to wednesday morning, we were unable to leave for the DFW airport until Thursday morning. Everything went much more smoothly on this morning, except that, just as we were about to pull out, I got a call from Team55 as I had left my driver's license at the library, so i hauled bum back across campus while everyone waited for me in the bus. What timing. That, my friends, is cutting it close. what are the odds? But we made it safely from there on out, with a direct flight from Dallas to the London Gatwick airport. we even got to see the montevideo group at the airport, and i ate dinner at the airport with some of them. the flight was long, but i managed to get an aisle seat with no one on the other side of me, which was quite nice. We arrived in London around 7:15 a.m. made it through customs, and with all of our luggage on some fairly rowdy carts, almost impossible to control. I put everyone around me, innocent bystanders, at risk with all my luggage on one of those obstinate carts. Then we all loaded onto the bus and got to the houses around 11 something.
Katie Buckel is my roommate. Oh, lucky me. To have such a good friend here with me. We are on the top floor of House 9 on Canterbury Road at the back left corner of the house, which means we have a window with a wonderful view out onto the Saint Hughes college campus, which is beautiful, and the grass is just so very green. I almost died carrying my luggage up four flights of very narrow steep stairs, but being on the fourth floor should provide me with even more exercise. and i have to think of this as good, seeing as we walk everywhere. exercise is inevitable. its a part of european life. so we got here on friday and all went out walking to get a tour of town and sort of get accustomed to finding our way around. my favorite so far is christs church cathedral, which is one of the most wonderful things ive ever seen. and i got to watch children playing soccer...or futbol, and even got a little salute from this pimpbritish little 11 year old or so boy. it made my day. then katie and i were going to go to dinner at the eagle and child pub, where c.s. lewis and tolkien used to meet to discuss their genius, in downtown, and it ended up being a group of about 20. which was interesting. but good. i got sausage and mash. it sounded pretty dang british. and it was quite good. everyone was dead on their feet but determined to stay up until 9 at least so as not to throw ourselves off too badly, but we were all glad to be home and off our feet after dinner. i went out around town with scott around 945 or so though, because i couldnt seem to get to sleep and he hadnt had dinner. but it was good because we got to go out to jericho, the kind of hip area with lots of cheap places to eat. so we went to the posh fish. i didnt know fish could be posh but they were cheap. so that was fun and we got back around midnight, after walking around some more. so i slept soundly.
too soundly. we were supposed to have orientation at 1:30 the next afternoon, and katie and i slept in and missed it, not being able to figure out where they'd gone. but they came back to the houses for the second half, so we ended up sufficiently informed. and ron told us all we'd missed was him saying "get drunk and ill put your butt on a plane and send you home" and that theres no real curfew enforced. just dont come in too late too often. so we rested up saturday. then i went with a group of girls walking out to summertown around 6 or so and got some "chips" (french fries) from a street vendor which were only a pound and were served with salt and vinegar. delicious. then a big group of us watched "persuasion" downstairs while others played oxford monopoly. it was really nice. most everyone seems to be getting along very nicely so far. that night we still couldnt sleep and ended up until about 5 15 am that morning.
but we were able to get up at 9 sunday morning and walked thirty minutes into the city center to go to church at st. aldates, which is an "evangelical anglican" church. and it was incredible. this church has existed for 1000 years, which is just beyond me, and i couldnt believe i was actually worshipping inside a room/building that looked like something out of a history book. it was breathtaking. whats funny is that the foyer, band, audio and tv system were all even more modern than many places ive been back in the states, while we sat in between marble columns under beautiful arched ceilings looking out incredible glass windows. im not so sure what evangelical anglican means, but it was so so casual and comfortable, the music was modern worship music, which i thoroughly enjoyed, and a woman introduced events and communion, which everyone goes to the front for, with real wine, but a man preached. about the design of God for us that we have lorst and need to seek out again. it was really very inspiring and a good message. i must admit i was surprised. i look forward to attending many different churches while im here, but love st. aldates. i relaxed saturday, bought my first concert tickets, which i am THRILLED about, and then had chapel at 9 with the group, which was good. still, i couldnt sleep. i ended up sitting in an ancient porcelain tub in the bathroom just contemplating life at about 4 am this morning, because i simple couldnt sleep but didnt want to keep katie up.
we started classes this morning, and i managed to only be about 5 minutes late, seeing as apparently i turned my alarm off without remembering. so i threw some clothes on and made it to my humanities class, which meets monday through thursday at 9. monday and wednesday are the history portion and tuesday and thursday are the literature portion. im going to enjoy this class, as these are my two favorite subjects i think. and we are here. where the authors wrote these masterpieces. where these kings and reformers walked. its remarkable. this afternoon i had my honors colloquium which is over medieval christianity-catholicism, and this is its first time. im really looking forward to seeing where this is going to go...it looks like it could really have some serious depth and prove to be more thought-provoking, and we will be taking special trips while in italy, that i can't wait for. after class a group of us walked out to port meadow, and its down to 31 and so so windy, which i didnt expect, and the meadow is flooded by the river thames right now, so it was perfect to me. and i went to the le paris patisserie for some hot coffee, which was less than wonderful. but i will have to adjust. those who know me would be proud of me. i have not had coffee since starbucks when we got here on friday. that's huge. sadly, i believe i could be replacing this addiction with tea, as thats so much more accessible and less expensive. and so british. and i drink it with cream and sugar. i have a little tea tray and everything.
my desk is set up where i look out the window and i cant imagine anything more wonderful. i love hearing students from saint hughes walk by with their clipped accents. i fall in love with every male voice i hear im afraid. i'm going to stop for now. ive typed myself exhausted, and im sure for those of you other than my dear mother, who have actually made it this far, are done in yourselves. this should easily be the longest blog i will write while i am here. but please do message me if you want to hear more about something or another.
i love you all and already miss you fiercely!
kathryn d. whitworth
per popular request, i am starting this blog to save myself and all of you the trouble of the e-mailing process as means of an update. the sole purpose of this blog is to write for all those back home of all, or almost all..., of my experiences while i study abroad in oxford, england. i must warn you, that this is a first for me, and i can guarantee you that my thoughts will most likely come in all forms and colors, whether it be narrative, poetry, song lyrics, or simply pictures, i hope to share my experience with you to the fullest extent possible. so please enjoy. cruise through and just look for interesting points, or pore over eveyr blog looking for subtext and metaphor in between every line. and please, let me know if i'm not focusing enough on some things and too much on others, etc. as this is really for y'all. i have a journal for me. and DAGNABIT. you better write me while i am here. i don't do one-way relationships. that just is downrigh unfair. this is a give and take situation. so write me. i could not ask for me. i promise you it would be the highlight of my week, with the exception of the week i will be in italy perhaps.
now that all of that is out of the way, i will try to provide you with the briefest synopsis possible of my trip to and first few days at oxford.
we were supposed to leave abilene on a bus for dallas on wednesday, but thanks to the perfectly ironic blanket of snow we woke up to wednesday morning, we were unable to leave for the DFW airport until Thursday morning. Everything went much more smoothly on this morning, except that, just as we were about to pull out, I got a call from Team55 as I had left my driver's license at the library, so i hauled bum back across campus while everyone waited for me in the bus. What timing. That, my friends, is cutting it close. what are the odds? But we made it safely from there on out, with a direct flight from Dallas to the London Gatwick airport. we even got to see the montevideo group at the airport, and i ate dinner at the airport with some of them. the flight was long, but i managed to get an aisle seat with no one on the other side of me, which was quite nice. We arrived in London around 7:15 a.m. made it through customs, and with all of our luggage on some fairly rowdy carts, almost impossible to control. I put everyone around me, innocent bystanders, at risk with all my luggage on one of those obstinate carts. Then we all loaded onto the bus and got to the houses around 11 something.
Katie Buckel is my roommate. Oh, lucky me. To have such a good friend here with me. We are on the top floor of House 9 on Canterbury Road at the back left corner of the house, which means we have a window with a wonderful view out onto the Saint Hughes college campus, which is beautiful, and the grass is just so very green. I almost died carrying my luggage up four flights of very narrow steep stairs, but being on the fourth floor should provide me with even more exercise. and i have to think of this as good, seeing as we walk everywhere. exercise is inevitable. its a part of european life. so we got here on friday and all went out walking to get a tour of town and sort of get accustomed to finding our way around. my favorite so far is christs church cathedral, which is one of the most wonderful things ive ever seen. and i got to watch children playing soccer...or futbol, and even got a little salute from this pimpbritish little 11 year old or so boy. it made my day. then katie and i were going to go to dinner at the eagle and child pub, where c.s. lewis and tolkien used to meet to discuss their genius, in downtown, and it ended up being a group of about 20. which was interesting. but good. i got sausage and mash. it sounded pretty dang british. and it was quite good. everyone was dead on their feet but determined to stay up until 9 at least so as not to throw ourselves off too badly, but we were all glad to be home and off our feet after dinner. i went out around town with scott around 945 or so though, because i couldnt seem to get to sleep and he hadnt had dinner. but it was good because we got to go out to jericho, the kind of hip area with lots of cheap places to eat. so we went to the posh fish. i didnt know fish could be posh but they were cheap. so that was fun and we got back around midnight, after walking around some more. so i slept soundly.
too soundly. we were supposed to have orientation at 1:30 the next afternoon, and katie and i slept in and missed it, not being able to figure out where they'd gone. but they came back to the houses for the second half, so we ended up sufficiently informed. and ron told us all we'd missed was him saying "get drunk and ill put your butt on a plane and send you home" and that theres no real curfew enforced. just dont come in too late too often. so we rested up saturday. then i went with a group of girls walking out to summertown around 6 or so and got some "chips" (french fries) from a street vendor which were only a pound and were served with salt and vinegar. delicious. then a big group of us watched "persuasion" downstairs while others played oxford monopoly. it was really nice. most everyone seems to be getting along very nicely so far. that night we still couldnt sleep and ended up until about 5 15 am that morning.
but we were able to get up at 9 sunday morning and walked thirty minutes into the city center to go to church at st. aldates, which is an "evangelical anglican" church. and it was incredible. this church has existed for 1000 years, which is just beyond me, and i couldnt believe i was actually worshipping inside a room/building that looked like something out of a history book. it was breathtaking. whats funny is that the foyer, band, audio and tv system were all even more modern than many places ive been back in the states, while we sat in between marble columns under beautiful arched ceilings looking out incredible glass windows. im not so sure what evangelical anglican means, but it was so so casual and comfortable, the music was modern worship music, which i thoroughly enjoyed, and a woman introduced events and communion, which everyone goes to the front for, with real wine, but a man preached. about the design of God for us that we have lorst and need to seek out again. it was really very inspiring and a good message. i must admit i was surprised. i look forward to attending many different churches while im here, but love st. aldates. i relaxed saturday, bought my first concert tickets, which i am THRILLED about, and then had chapel at 9 with the group, which was good. still, i couldnt sleep. i ended up sitting in an ancient porcelain tub in the bathroom just contemplating life at about 4 am this morning, because i simple couldnt sleep but didnt want to keep katie up.
we started classes this morning, and i managed to only be about 5 minutes late, seeing as apparently i turned my alarm off without remembering. so i threw some clothes on and made it to my humanities class, which meets monday through thursday at 9. monday and wednesday are the history portion and tuesday and thursday are the literature portion. im going to enjoy this class, as these are my two favorite subjects i think. and we are here. where the authors wrote these masterpieces. where these kings and reformers walked. its remarkable. this afternoon i had my honors colloquium which is over medieval christianity-catholicism, and this is its first time. im really looking forward to seeing where this is going to go...it looks like it could really have some serious depth and prove to be more thought-provoking, and we will be taking special trips while in italy, that i can't wait for. after class a group of us walked out to port meadow, and its down to 31 and so so windy, which i didnt expect, and the meadow is flooded by the river thames right now, so it was perfect to me. and i went to the le paris patisserie for some hot coffee, which was less than wonderful. but i will have to adjust. those who know me would be proud of me. i have not had coffee since starbucks when we got here on friday. that's huge. sadly, i believe i could be replacing this addiction with tea, as thats so much more accessible and less expensive. and so british. and i drink it with cream and sugar. i have a little tea tray and everything.
my desk is set up where i look out the window and i cant imagine anything more wonderful. i love hearing students from saint hughes walk by with their clipped accents. i fall in love with every male voice i hear im afraid. i'm going to stop for now. ive typed myself exhausted, and im sure for those of you other than my dear mother, who have actually made it this far, are done in yourselves. this should easily be the longest blog i will write while i am here. but please do message me if you want to hear more about something or another.
i love you all and already miss you fiercely!
kathryn d. whitworth
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