Monday, July 23, 2012

Tour de Where?

Somehow in all the hubbub of the Olympics (beginning Friday!), Wimbledon, and MCR events, I completely failed to recognise that the Tour de France had begun. In fact, I was quite surprised to walk into the MCR TV room yesterday afternoon to find that not only were the cyclists in the last 20 km of the race, but Wiggins was about to be the first Briton to ever take home the yellow jersey. Somehow I was here only a few hundred miles away and I missed almost the entire race.

Oh well. Maybe next year I will actually go. Wouldn't that be fun? In the mean time, the weather last week took a turn for the better, like the way a nasty chest cold tends to break up, leaving you periodically hacking up globs of stale phlegm. Yes, as the week progressed, the rain slowly disappeared, becoming infrequent 10-minute stints of dripping before vanishing completely. By Saturday, even the clouds vaporised and I am happy to report our third consecutive day of sunshine! Today, the temperature has even surpassed 20C/70F for the first time in a few weeks; it's positively balmy!

Thus, after spending last week under the throes of writing (aside: I realised that while I can hash out 3500 words of blogging in a mere 4 hours, my academic composition rate is much slower: a tragic 700 words per 6 hours. Sigh.), I decided to undertake my own athletic competition over the weekend. It was an Oxford triathlon of sorts: Croquet, Cricket, and Punting. For the first leg, one of the former MCR presidents proposed a bit of a croquet match after Saturday morning MCR brunch. Since I had never played before (well, we had a backyard set when I was young.. I'm not counting that), I was exceedingly keen. Thankfully, Roos, Jorien, and Gareth (all committee members) were interested in learning to play as well, so Rick (the 09-10 President) gave us a couple lessons. Then we played two matches and started a third. Five hours later (croquet is quite a drawn out game!), we called it an afternoon and dispersed to get ready for the farewell party of our good friend and my next door neighbor, Neomal. Believe it or not, the days activities had been quite exhausting and I slept very soundly that evening.

Continuing the triathlon, last night after MCR tea and cakes, we continued our now weekly cricket match in the University Parks. With the beautiful weather, our match drew an unprecedented number of participants, topping off at 8 or 9 people. At this rate of increase, we may be able to play a real game in a couple weeks! Unfortunately, we've only been playing with a tennis ball, but I am looking forward to playing at the Keble Sports Ground when it dries up (hopefully this week!) and actually using a real cricket ball!

After two hours of exertion, we changed our pace and headed directly to the Cherwell boathouse to go for a punt ride. As the rain has died down, the water has also slowed a bit, and I found it much easier to punt this time than last. Our route took us upstream from the boathouse to the Victoria Arms pub, where the male cricketers (Liam (my housemate), Drew (a visiting student from Wisconsin), and I) gorged ourselves on the Sunday night pie special. I chose the beef and stilton under delicious puff pastry with mash and fresh veg. Ok, I love stilton. If you like blue cheese, you have to try it. It is quite sharp and fairly crumbly, but is absolutely delicious on crackers or baked into dishes. As we watched the sun go down over the countryside opposite the river from the pub, we finally realized that it was time to punt back to the boathouse. It was another exhausting day, but capped a great weekend of outdoor activity. Here's to summer!

CULTURE CORNER
Spectator sport. Oxford has become overrun with tourists and conferences since the end of term. As I may have mentioned already, you can easily tell because the mean age has dropped by about five years, and the pedestrians are all clumped in groups of 15-25. They're a menace to society, seriously. Ok, not that serious... but close. Anyway, tourists in Oxford love Oxonian things and what can be more Oxonian than *REAL* Oxford students playing croquet on the lawn of a 150 year old college? The tourists and conference guests in Keble lapped it up like a thirsty dog with a bowl of water. I began to think that we should have been in uniforms or sub fusc, but surely the spectators would have then demanded stadium seating. It was ridiculous (/hilarious). Well, perhaps next time we will take some signs to erect. I'm taking votes:

"PHOTOS OF CROQUET PLAYERS: 50p (WITH PLAYERS: 1 GBP)"

"QUIET PLEASE. NO FLASH PHOTOGRAPHY"

"WARNING: CROQUET PLAYERS MAY BITE. AVOID SUDDEN MOVEMENTS"

"PLEASE DON'T FEED THE CROQUET PLAYERS"

Word of the Day
Sport. n. A game or activity, usually physical or athletic in nature. Usually used in the singular rather than in the plural. ex. "Do you play any sport?" "Of course, I am an officer of Oxford University Sport." "Oh great, I am keen for some sport myself."

Saturday, July 14, 2012

A (Almost) Normal Day in Oxford

Today, my friends, is a normal day in Oxford at the end of a normal week in Oxford. It is a day when tourists are flooding the streets and graduates in assorted coloured robes are pouring out of commencement ceremonies at the Sheldonian Theatre. It is a day where the ambiguously coloured sandstone buildings are mere shades of excitement apart from the ambiguously coloured sky. Another fleeting generation flowers and trees continue their hopeless crusade against the purgatorial, uncommitted surroundings.

It is a day at the end of a week where London's third gleaming Olympic torch (it is the first city to host three modern Olympiads) skirted the edge of town and former President Bill Clinton made an unannounced appearance in Blackwell's Books and the Covered Market. The weather conditions were only predictable in their unpredictability but my lengthy time spent in the lab was only broken to dream about a trip to the paradise of Switzerland and hash out some ever-important MCR business. There was the weekly Eagle & Child Pub Quiz on Tuesday and our second "Bossaphonik" Afrojazz/Balkan beats (still not sure what that means, but it's quite good) music night at The Cellar yesterday. Daily tea at 22.00 in the Acland kitchen has remained as institutionalized as the University itself.

But alas, like a glimmer of hope, a pinpoint of light in the darkness or a miraculous oasis in the vast Sahara, something quite unprecedented occurred today. After Saturday morning brunch in the MCR (another pillar of Oxford continuity), I came out of the college en route to Acland and felt this strange twitch of spontaneity. I wasn't sure if it was allowed or reasonable, as if I was about to break some sort of rule. Had I lived in any of a number of Big Brother dystopias, surely I would have been sacked on the spot, or worse. In that strange moment of indecision, however, I did not get sacked and my feet led me to city center where I ended up at Blackwell's Books. Here is where the real shocking part comes in, for I did not buy a single book.

I bought three.

Whoa, whoa, settle down; it will be ok, I promise! I know it is peculiar for an engineer to go into a book store and come out with three literary works for pure entertainment. I too felt this way before stepping up to the register. I thought, "Is this right? Can this be happening? Should I lay down first?" But in that bold moment, it was like the opening of 2001: A Space Odyssey. I gained strength and confidence; after paying for my books, I proudly walked out to the street, exuberantly raised them into the air and shouted, "YES! I WILL READ! AND IT WILL BE FUN!" (Ok, that didn't actually happen, at least on the outside.)

Now here, my friends, is where you may or may not agree with my new found Oxford-influenced decision. My grandfather, at any rate, would unenthusiastic to hear that I passed up on Bleak House, and my dad that I forewent The Red Badge of Courage, but I opted for three more modern texts. Yes, it was obligatory that I procure Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (unrelated: another affirmation that Harry Potter is entirely real... O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s correspond to real English high school examinations, "Sixth Form" and "A-Levels") but I also added Tolkien's The Hobbit and a book which had been recommended to me, entitled Watching the English by Kate May.

Given that I have also been reading The Chronicles of Narnia (almost done with The Magician's Nephew!), I have a tonne of reading ahead.... So now it's time to get on that...

PS - For the couple of people who will inevitably inquire, I had 20 pounds of gift card money to spend, so my three books came to the reasonable total of 6.50 :-)

PPS - In spite of my Bleak Blog, it actually was quite an excellent week. Along with the books, a major highlight of the week was receiving a package from my dance partner, all the way from California! It's contents? Some incredible Scottish shortbread, a jar of amazing lemon curd, and a postcard! I love international mail!!! One thing though... shouldn't I be sending English things to her instead of vice versa? hmm... I guess I'll have to send her something incredibly American now...

PPPS - Happy Bastille Day! Also (alluding back to my Vienna Study Abroad) happy 150th birthday to Viennese Secessionist painter, Gustav Klimt!

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Transitions & A Mixing Bowl of Summer Happenings

As could be expected, the last couple weeks have been full of transitions. With the end of Trinity now in the rear-view mirror, I have been started to shift from reflecting to moving forward.

Perhaps the biggest shift over the past couple weeks has been stepping into MCR leadership. I have scarcely taken the position and already I have already faced some interesting situations. I have filled most the remaining committee positions, but with a committee of fifteen members, that was no trivial task. Yes, the committee is comprised of fifteen positions, some of which are shared between multiple people. The committee consists of President, VP, Treasurer, Secretary, Social Secretary, Men's Welfare Officer, Women's Welfare Officer, Black Tie Dinner Officer, Exchange Dinner Officer, Arts & Culture Officer, Sports Officer, Environment Officer, Equality Officer, IT Officer, and Cellar Steward. It takes a lot of people to make the MCR great, and I'm quite excited to work alongside the team that has stepped up!

Perhaps a more important transition that has transpired has been in the research realm. In the last week, I have moved into what I feel is the sprint towards the Transfer of Status. What does that mean? Any graduate student who arrives at Oxford spends his/her first year as either a Masters student or as a "PRS:" Probationary Research Student. Obviously since I am not the former, I am on research probation until I undergo my transfer of status into a full-fledged DPhil student. The purpose of this transfer is to ensure that the university is not wasting its time or resources on students who just want to faff off. Thus, after their first year, the fledgling PRS students transfer their status by successfully completing four assignments:

1. Writing and submitting a conference paper, or (in the absence of a suitable conference) a conference-style paper, approximately 10 pages single-spaced in length, describing and discussing the candidate's recent research.
2. Writing a 15 page double-spaced literature review and detailed research plan, outlining the remaining two-three years.
3. Presenting a 15 minute talk to a mixed-experience audience, with subsequent question and answer session.
4. Successfully sitting the 30-45 minute transfer viva, an oral examination, which is administered by an Oxford don and an outside academic.

I am now up to the stage where I can begin writing; A year's worth of reading and MATLAB number-crunching finally at a tee! Well... that's presuming the next week's worth of data manipulation goes off without a hitch anyway. Writing is due 1 September and the presentation and viva are both on 1 October. Fingers crossed, I will be able to leave the nest and fly come October!

A third transition has been the lethargic onset of summertime. Slowly, the unceasing clouds and drizzle have started to break up and yellow sunshine has begun to poke through once again. Even when the weather is damp, the temperatures have increased compared to three weeks ago: most days hang in the high teens C. I do not believe the temp has topped 80F yet this year, but perhaps it will come by the end of September!

Thankfully, since it is summertime, such is the time for summer events, like Wimbledon. On Wednesday morning, I groggily headed into the kitchen, rather unamused to face a dreary day of coding. I struck up a conversation with Nick (who has a fantastically interesting background which I will have to share sometime) before Zach, the Hopkins student, came wandering in. After a couple minutes of the two of them quietly discussing plans, Zach turned to me and asked if I would be interested in a spare ticket to Wimbledon that day. I hemmed and hawed for a moment, ran over to get the (jealous) approval of my supervisor, then swiftly prepared for a boring-day-turned-brilliant!

The four of us - including Zach's girlfriend Lark (also studying at Hopkins and taking a year abroad in Oxford) - started out a bit later than we intended, but since matches didn't really begin until 1300, we figured we would be fine. Indeed, even with a quick M&S grocery store stop for picnic foods and getting turned around in the Wimbledon neighborhood, we were really only 20 minutes late for the matches. Zach had procured two tickets to Court No. 1 - which Nick and I took up - and two tickets to the Centre Court for himself and Lark.

The complex was massive and superlative. The three main "show courts," which included ours plus the No. 2 Court, each had stadium seating. The remaining sixteen courts were fit together like a green Tetris board with little paths and minimal general seating surrounding each. Everything was green, purple, and white in the Wimbledon colors. The dark green, ivy-clad stadiums were interspersed with the freshly manicured green grass courts. Rising behind Court No. 1, the looming Henman Hill was packed with spectators watching the giant jumbotron.

Upon arrival, we split up and headed to our respective courts. Zach and Lark were already a bit late for the Federer(3) v. Fognini match, while Nick and I scooted into the Rus v. Stosur(5) women's match. At their respective conclusions a speedy hour later, we reconvened under a trellis laden with hanging flower baskets and dove into our massive picnic. We did not miss much, however; thanks to some passing rain drops (no joke), the host stopped all matches to protect the athletes and, I suspect, the grass. Lucky for Zach and Lark, the Centre Court is covered by a retractable roof, so after lunch, they returned for Wozniacki(7) v. Paszek and Hlavackova v. Clijsters, both women's matches. In the mean time, Nick and I passed the 'rain' delay by wandering around, grabbing some coffee, and looking through a tournament program that I bought. In due time, outdoor play resumed and we were able to see Baker v. Andy Roddick (30)! Most of the people were cheering for the Briton, but naturally, I supported Roddick, the American. As Roddick pulled out the victory, we rejoined the others for a cheeky snack before switching tickets to check out the opposite venues. Thus, Zach and Lark caught the beginning of Sharapova(1) v. Pironkova while Nick and I watched Djokovic(1) v. Harrison. Given that both world number ones were playing simultaneously (and the seats in Court No. 1 - immediately behind the baseline - were drastically better than the Centre Court seats 25 rows up in the corner), Nick and I were happy to reswitch after only a few games. Yes, it's true that Sharapova gives off an incredible shriek/squeal/grunt every time she hits the ball, but the match was still enjoyable and entertaining! All too soon (ok, at 9 pm), it became too dark to play (though sunset was still 30 minutes off); the umpire called the game (because there is no artificial lighting). We headed home and I happily reminisced the day's amazing shots and wonderful spontaneity with pleasure.

While the beginning of summer has meant saying goodbye to the masters students, the city has not exactly become quiet. This is due to the arrival of tourists... and international students! Fortunately, thanks to my NCSU/Caldwell/Oxford/Engineering connection, Jen, I learned that NC State's annual study abroad group was arriving two weekends ago. Consequently, I had the delightful opportunity to accompany the group on their Saturday trip to Canterbury and Dover. Their advisor, Dr. Barnhardt from NC State, seems to be very knowledgeable in history and literature. It was exciting to hear a convincing recitation of part of the Canterbury Tales along with a synopsis of why Canterbury is important historically. As you may know, the Archbishop of Canterbury is the senior member of the Anglican Church. As such, the 1400 year old cathedral site has been a place of pilgrimage for centuries. Even more notable, however, is the fact that the current cathedral dates back to the reign of my ancestor Henry II. Indeed, the Normans built the Canterbury Cathedral in beautiful Romanesque style, though it has been renovated through the centuries into the airy Gothic style. Anyway, King Henry appointed his friend, Thomas Becket, to be the Archbishop, but the newly appointed clergyman soon tightened up his morals and started to oppose the crown. Alas, a rift developed between the two, which was so deep that King Louis of France offered Becket asylum. Henry refused to let him go, and eventually they arranged to have a meeting to 'sort things out.' Well, the exact events that followed have been lost to history, but for whatever reason one of Henry's knights struck out at Becket in the Canterbury Cathedral, essentially beheading him. In his martyrdom, Becket - who had previously engendered only marginal support from the masses - suddenly garnered immense adoration and appeal; the Pope had him canonized within a couple years. The whole incident reflected poorly on Henry, who consequently agreed to a number of actions of penance, including the undertaking of a crusade which he never followed through with.

ANYWAY, the important part is that the cathedral is incredibly old and incredibly relevant. After spending a bit of time wandering the incredibly quaint town with some of the incredibly cool NC State students, we moved into the cathedral to have a look around. While the outside architecture seemed to be crumbling, the inside was quite sharp. In typical cathedral fashion, the nave was massive. The western window (at the rear of the nave) featured a tall, dark blue stained glass window dating - as with all the stained glass - from the 12th century. Looking towards the alter, however, the view was obstructed by a staircase leading up to a screen. Believe it or not, the original cathedral - the eastern portion - was elevated, presumably to accommodate the partially buried crypt below. Passing through the screen, I noticed yet another staircase at the end of the choir which lofted one up to the alter. Thus, the narrow sight-line from the alter through the door in the screen to the middle of the nave made a pretty steep angle with the ground. Naturally, the cathedral was classically stunning both inside and out, thanks to its old stone masonry and brilliant stained glass.

Soon enough, we popped back on the bus and relocated 20 miles away to Dover. The castle in Dover dates back to Roman times, but it has been refortified, moated, dug around, built up, and shelled throughout the years. Thus, on approaching the castle, it certainly resembled a fantasy castle, complete with impregnable walls, a lofty perch, and a proud British flag pulled taught in the wind. Immediately behind the castle, one could see the English channel churning in the icy breeze. Off in the distance - sure enough - the shores of France were clearly visible. Since coming to England and the British Isles, I have always felt quite distant from continental Europe, but suddenly for the first time, the mere 20 mile crossing put things in perspective. It's no wonder that Dover Castle has been an important stronghold from the Romans through WWII. In fact, I would have been utterly terrified to be living in Kent (the county including Canterbury and Dover) especially during the Second World War. Could you imagine hearing about the German advance across France and looking across the Channel with the understanding that your enemy was a short 20 miles away? That's not even to mention the Battle of Britain - which, admittedly, I know quite little about - which took place across the region? It gave me the proverbial heebie-jeebies.

The castle itself was amazing. Up close, the walls were just as imposing as they were at a distance. They rose with the weight of an elephant from the backside of what may have been a 50-foot deep moat. Crossing the drawbridge and passing under the portcullis, I was transformed into a five year old, giddy with excitement to explore this real life fantasy. We climbed on the walls and passed over another drawbridge to reach the castle's innermost courtyard, which framed a giant white tower quite similar to the Tower of London. Climbing again to top of the tower, we had a fantastic 360 degree view: Hills and woods to the north emptied into Dover village on the west; herds of sheep grazed at the top of the famous chalk-white cliffs to the east while overlooking the Channel and France to the south. Mind = Blown. Actually, I was suffering from a headache (a week of wind instead of rain has allowed every plant in England to bloom simultaneously, leading to death by pollen... yes, worse than NC and VA!) so my mind was, in fact, actually blown.

Looking to optimize our time, the portion of the group I was wandering around with decided to try to get a better view of the famed white cliffs. Thus, we recrossed one of the drawbridges and headed towards the coast, which was still within the main enclosure. Finally, we reached a spot with a memorial to Admiral Halsey and a dedication to the fishermen of Operation Dynamo, who rescued almost 340,000 cornered and cut off British, French, and Belgian troops from Dunkirk, France in 1940. From the top of a concrete lookout post, we had a fantastic view of the coastline and the brilliant, pasty white cliffs which dropped sharply into the Channel. One needed to think heavy thoughts to keep from being blown over by the strong winds, but this was made difficult by the light-hearted sign suggesting that throwing things from the platform would result in the death of unwitting sunbathers below (this is humorous because the only thing at the bottom of the cliff was an industrial ferry terminal and the interchange for the Chunnel. No beaches. No sunbathers).

I guess one major failing thus far is that I have neglected to discuss the NC State group. I have not yet met some of them, but I quite like the many whom I have met. As might be expected for a group taking a Shakespeare survey class and 'History of Britain in the 20th Century' (is that even history here?), many of the students are humanities majors; very intrigued about all facets of life at Oxford. Since the trip, I have spent a bit of time with them, taking a subset on a picnic to Port Meadow on Sunday before showing the whole group around Keble and the Pitt Rivers Museum (remember: dodo skeleton and shrunken head collection) today.

And that reminds me.. today is the Fourth of July! Happy Independence Day to one and all! As typical for American holidays, the British went about their daily business as usual. Aside from the tour, I spent most of the day in the lab before going for a run and heading to the King's Arms Pub for some Pimms with the NC State group. Not very American, I must say. That said, the arrival of the NC State group has led me to reflect quite a bit on the differences between home and here. Indeed, the southern accents and mannerisms are actually in quite a bit of contrast with the British. We've talked about Raleigh and Oxford, Washington and London, comparisons in campus life and the ever-different vocabulary. It has been a really good experience to be around those from 'home.' I still miss Raleigh and NoVa, and of course I am proud of my American (/English) heritage.

Returning to the MCR, the only other notable thing that has transpired this week has been trying my hand at cricket! On a beautiful Sunday evening, I met up with David (the incoming sports chair, from Wales), Patrick (a Greek and Latin studies masters student from Canada), and Jonathan (a doctorate in Chemistry (?) from France) to learn the basics of cricket! After an hour or so, David had taught me some of the finer points of the sport, such as the importance of not throwing/swinging like a baseball player, and we even did a bit of a mock game with a tennis ball. I'm really looking forward to making this a regular Sunday event! Thankfully this coming Sunday we don't have a Euro Cup final to go watch (remember soccer in Vienna 08? The current tournament just ended this Sunday.. England didn't do very well. Spain won... again). Yay for more cricket!

CULTURE CORNER
Hypothetical question-arguments. I have realized in the last week (due to my own adoption of the habit) that the British are notorious for asking questions when they really intend to be making a contradictory statement. Consider the following (hypothetical) conversation.

Hypothesizer: Have you noticed how the sky is light well after eleven now that it's the heart of summer?
Opposition: Indeed, it's very nice.
Hypothesizer: It's a shame that people haven't been out in the parks taking advantage of it.
->Opposition: Well I don't think they would have had the chance, given that it has been quite rainy until today, now would they?
Hypothesizer: I suppose you're right.

In spite of the question format, the Opposition really means to say, "Actually, since today is the first day of sunshine this week, no one has been outside due to the rain. Obviously." But for whatever reason, the locals seem to love these question-arguments. I don't know if it is because the statements soften what may be perceived as a confrontational opinion, or if it is simply a means of extending a conversation by allowing the Hypothesizer to defend his theory. In fact, more likely is the fact that such a question is used to subvert the original hypothesis by making it sound stupid. Thus, it often seems quite clear that the Opposition is in the right, but nonetheless, the question is asked all the same. As I mentioned, I've started using this conversational syntax in my own speech. I know I'm not British, but surely that doesn't mean its bad, right?

Word of the Day
Today's word of the day actually does not come from the cultural realm, but the research realm. The word is a function in MATLAB. Upon laughing at its usage, I was informed by my supervisor - in a way only befitting an Oxonian engineer - that its meaning actually has a long history, although it is often misused in modern context. So...

decimate (v). To reduce (a sample, a population) by a factor of ten. (NB Often misused in place of annihilate, which means to destroy utterly and completely.) Etymology: When Roman troops returned from the front having performed particularly poorly, their punishment was communal. Each deserving military unit was divided into groups of ten. Among each group of ten, one was chosen at random, removed from the group, and promptly executed. Thus, since one in ten was removed from the sample, the word follows from its prefix, 'deci-' meaning ten.