Hello Blogger, my old friend. I've come to talk with you again.
Perhaps you feel like this is the sound of silence, but I assure you: it is anything but. Lucky for you, the reader, my unintentional respite from blogging means that you get more of the exciting cultural differences between the infamous Oxford Bubble and the rest of the world, and less of the mediocre day to day reporting that reads, "Today I went to the lab. I wrote code. I met with my supervisor. I wrote MCR emails. I went to dance practice. I went to the MCR. I went home." Trust me, that happened plenty in the last month.
You know, one would think that life in Trinity Term would slow down a bit. The year is coming to a close and everyone starts to wind things up. But no. As a matter of fact, everything picks up. So where do I start? Perhaps yesterday, when all my troubles seemed so far away.
It was absolutely beautiful for once, so with the overdue indicator of the arrival of summer (perhaps encouraged by an almost-forgotten US holiday weekend), I made the long walk across town to the banks of the Isis (part of the Thames) for the annual Summer 8s race. This boat race - which is essentially Trinity Term cuppers rowing - is a sure highlight of the Oxford experience. Raced in each of four days, the competition consists of 13 14-boat heats, where the sole purpose is to catch the boat in front of you before you are caught from behind. It is hard to imagine, but crews train daily for months in preparation for their four 7-minute heats. I get the sense that the 6:30 am daily practices are as much an exercise in teamwork as they are in physical strength and endurance. It all sounds rather torturous until you come to the banks of the Isis on a beautiful Saturday and behold the culture of Summer 8s. Dozens of colleges, each with octets of spandex-clad rowers. Long, sleek boats with blades (oars) decorated in college crests. The pageantry is brilliant.
That's not even to mention the renowned homeless guy who - in shabby clothing with missing teeth and a slightly menacing demeanour - innocently stands upstream of the boathouses with a radio cheering on his favourites. He stands juxtaposed to an old, white, wooden river barge belonging to St. John's College, on which the college hosts a champagne and live jazz reception for it's older alumni. Such is Oxford.
The spectacle is undoubtedly impressive. It was in that setting - under streaming college banners hoisted atop each boathouse - that I watched Summer 8s. The men's and women's boat were both quite good this week, reaching their respective first divisions. The women even reached the highest Keble has ever been in the rankings. It was a great day.
Moving backwards, last weekend was also quite fantastic. It saw the first leg - or the 'away' leg as we say - of an exchange between the Keble MCR and the MCR of our sister college, Selwyn College Cambridge. On Friday, 14 of us drove out to Cambridge where the Selwyn MCR President showed us around their college and town. I daresay Cambridge is much prettier and much quainter than Oxford. Their city centre is much greener than ours, and the shops are a bit less touristy. Where Oxford feels like a small city, Cambridge feels like an even smaller town. Then again, perhaps that makes sense given that Oxford has industry on its outskirts, which contrasts to Cambridge's pastoral scenery.
Another major difference between the two famous towns is the architecture. Oxford is built out of distinctive honey-coloured limestone. It's everywhere, and relatively homogeneous. Cambridge, on the other hand, is a brick and stone mecca. Of course Selwyn - being Keble's sister college - is built brick upon brick (and oh, how beautiful their bricks are!), but unlike Keble, it one among many brick-constructed colleges.
Anyway, while the dinner in college was nice, the highlight of the trip was certainly punting in the river Cam. Over time, the biggest Cambridge colleges bought up property along the banks of the Cam, so taking a punt down the river allows one to have a glimpse inside all of Cambridge's heavy hitters: Kings, Trinity, St. Johns, Clare, Queens, and Darwin, each with a stunning stone footbridge to pass under. Unfortunately it also stands to reason that if this is one of the best ways to see the colleges, the river is packed with punts. Most had hired tour guides, but as a proficient punter myself, I took the helm of our fine vessel.
Geek moment: if you've ever punted in either Oxford or Cambridge, you would know there is a great deal of controversy over which town sports the best method of punting. You see, most punts have a front and a back. That is to say, the back of the boat has a well in which the punter can stand. The decking provides extra grip, which is crucial when you are standing in a boat. The front of the boat does not have a well, but a shiny wooden deck instead. In Oxford, we punt from the back, like normal self-respecting people. Those backward Cambridge people, however, turn the boat 180 degrees and punt from the front! Why would you do that?! Perhaps standing on the wooden deck brings the punter higher out of the water, but one little slip and in you go. That doesn't sound fun!
Well ok... to be honest, I think it works fine either way. They apparently apply a special finish to the deck so that even though it's shiny, one's shoes grip extremely well. I actually don't think it makes much difference.... but I still think those Cambridge people are a bit silly.
So we returned from Cambridge on Saturday evening, just in time to watch Eurovision in the MCR. What's Eurovision? I had never heard of it before last year, but it is a singing competition where every European country submits an original piece of vocal music, which is performed on live TV across Europe, then voted on by citizens of every country. The winning country gets to host the competition in the following year. And while some of the acts are really good, some are also surprisingly dreadful. If you get the chance, go on youtube.com and look up Azerbaijan Eurovision 2013 and Denmark Eurovision 2013 as examples of fantastic pieces. Greece contributed a song called "Alcohol is Free" which was pretty funny and also worth watching. In contrast, France's contribution was disastrous, so I would only recommend watching it if you're a masochist ;-)
In the meantime, the guy who drove our rental car to Cambridge recognized that we couldn't return the car on Sunday because the place was closed... so we might as well take a spontaneous road trip! Where did we decide to go? Wales! A Welsh friend recommended Caerphilly Castle because it is basically just over the border into Wales, and the largest Welsh castle. And yes, it is home to Caerphilly Cheese, which is apparently quite popular.
Six Things I learned in Wales:
1. Welsh is crazy. Do you know how Caerdydd is pronounced? Cardiff. The capital of Wales. You get words like 'llwybr cyhoeddus' which apparently means public footpath and 'Y Newadd Fawr' for The Great Hall. We even drove past 'Amgueddfa Werin Cymru' which is apparently the Museum of Welsh Life (and in case you're trying to figure that out, Cymru is Wales, not Werin, which is life), but we didn't have time to stop.
2. Wales is beautiful. Sheep supposedly outnumber humans, so there's plenty of green for them to graze on.
3. Caerphilly castle is mammoth. With a proper moat around a lake, and 4 levels of fortifications, the castle must have been nigh unto impenetrable. Too bad the castle was built starting in 1268 and disused after 1327. *Slaps forehead*
4. The streets of Caerphilly must have also been used to keep out the English. Even with a GPS and the castle in sight, we got lost. Then trapped in a maze of one-way streets. Oops.
5. Stores in small towns are closed on Sunday. Good luck getting local food. Good thing there was an open Tesco grocery store, which had locally made Welsh Cakes (see below) and Caerphilly cheese.
6. WELSH CAKES. Think a cross between an American pancake's shape and a scone's texture and sultanas. They're only about 3 inches in diameter, nice and portable. They're SO good! Need to learn to make Welsh Cakes... (@Jenna, if you read this, that's a challenge.)
Whew, two weekends down. What now? I think I've talked about Black Tie Dinners before, so I won't rehash that this time, but I will briefly give mention to this year's Keble Ball. If you recall, last year I took Jenna to the ball with me. We had a fantastic time, although the weather was dreadful and the crowds impenetrable. Well this year Keble managed to sort out both of those things. The skies were clear and calm, so while it was a bit chilly, it was as good as we could hope for! The ball committee also distributed fewer tickets this year, meaning that one did not have to push their way into tents or up to vendors, and it was a much more relaxed atmosphere. Another benefit to the evening was getting to see some old friends from last year, Madeleine, Frank, and Radhika. As part of our old Acland crew, we have really missed them this year, so it was great to welcome them back to Oxford!
While I could wrap up this blog by discussing our exchange dinner with Exeter College (which was delicious) or the Varsity Match (in which we lost to Cambridge badly, but a new partner - Laila - and I danced quite well), or Dancesport Cuppers (in which not only did we win the Jive, but Keble won overall!), I will close with a mention of a trip to the Globe. Back at the beginning of term, a group of us headed into London to see The Tempest presented at Shakespeare's Globe Theatre. This world famous theatre overlooks the Thames in the heart of town, and puts on regular performances of Shakespeare's works (along with some other stuff on the side).
But the Globe is no ordinary theatre. Perhaps Shakespeare's Cylinder would be a better name for it. Only a couple stories tall, the Globe has a sheer white exterior topped with a sloping thatched roof. Stepping through the doors, you walk up a short concrete ramp only to realize that the entire structure is skeletal. At the top of the ramp you walk onto a large, round, concrete standing area. In front is an imposing stage, the bottom of which is at shoulder height, but dominated by two incredible columns which frame the proscenium and hoist the stage roof. I distinguish the 'stage roof' because you then realise that the circular standing area is otherwise open to the sky! In fact, the sky itself is framed by the crest of the thatched roof, which merely covers the circular wooden framework that makes up the sparse 5-row, three-tiered grandstand (if one could even call it that?). As a 'groundling' (i.e., we paid for cheap standing tickets, as most of Shakespeare's common-folk audience would have done), we found a nice plot of concrete and angled our eyes towards the stage.
They say that if Shakespeare is hard to read to yourself, it is much easier to understand when reading aloud. I now add that if it's hard to understand reading aloud, it makes perfect sense when acted out on stage. While a couple references were still lost, the character and persona brought by these actors was absolutely incredible. They were almost perfectly audible even without microphones and - combined with the sound effects of a percussion heavy orchestra - easily captivated my attention. And this is what was amazing. Here in the centre of busy London, it was so easy to step not just into a show, but into another time period. I was simultaneously felt as if I was in both Shakespeare's era and the plot of his show. I imagine that such an experience can scarce be provided by any other theatre, even with such a talented cast.
Alas, these are the experiences legends are made of. More times than not over the last term, I have found myself admiring how much I am enjoying Oxford and England in general. The lifestyle here is not just profoundly unique, but continually surprising. From the joy of a warm sunny day after a week of rain, to the unanticipated excitement of Summer 8s, it is a city that continues to keep on giving.
Speaking of which, I'm off to go play croquet and drink Pimm's on Keble's otherwise forbidden Liddon Quad. Wish me luck.
CULTURE CORNER
Word of the Day
Downtown, n. A strictly American word, colloquially meaning the center of a big city. The British have no comprehension of this word, either in context to London or anywhere else.