Salutations, friends!
Alas, 3 months have passed since my last elaboration on life in England. When I last wrote, I was gearing up for the last few weeks of term, which proved to be such a race that I have taken months to return to whatever may be best identified as 'normal'. So, therefore, let me take a few moments to first recap the end of the year, but more importantly to highlight this summer's travels.
In a nutshell, term ended with a plethora of fun activities. I played several games with the MCR cricket team en route to a modest but satisfactory .500 record. In the last match I even hit a 'four' which is like the combination of a ground rule double and a grand slam in baseball. I also celebrated a birthday before the end of term, for which I desired to do nothing but play croquet in the warm sunshine, eat take-away Indian curry, and watch the movie Inception with friends. In the run up to the Presidential hand-over, the MCR welcomed the Selwyn crew to Keble, inviting them to a special summer dinner in hall and showing them all around Oxford. The MCR also hosted its last bop of the year - a silent disco - the same week I passed over the reigns of leadership. Hooray for handing over!
So, you've just spent a year at the head of an Oxford MCR... what do you do next? Travel! The weekend following the handover, I hopped on a plane for a weekend in Belfast, Northern Ireland. My travel companion was another American in Keble, Kristy. On Friday and Saturday night, we actually stayed just outside of Belfast in the small, historic, coastal village of Carrickfergus. At one point its domineering castle figured prominently in the defense of Northern Ireland, but today only wax Redcoats are guarding the towers. Our excitement for Saturday was to hop on a coach to tour of some of the main sights along the so-called Antrim Coast on the Irish Sea. A typical misty, overcast day was the perfect backdrop for the vivid green glens and bluish-grey sea. Our first stop was the Carrick-a-rede bridge. This heritage site is based solely on the 50-foot rope bridge that crosses from the mainland to a rocky outcrop, some 100 feet over the thundering water. I gather that a bridge (formerly just 3 lines of rope) has been on the site for centuries, although now a slightly more sturdy wood plank and rope bridge has been installed. Don't worry, it still fluctuates plenty for my research!
We also visited the Giant's Causeway, a peculiar basalt formation where innumerable hexagonal columns have been extruded from the earth by tectonic forces. These columns, each 16-24 inches across, have created a coastline resembling the common optical illusion of the inverted cubes. The hexagonal columns of different heights thus invite all visitors to traverse them like stepping stones, walking like children over a garden path. I think this was both Kristy's and my favourite stop of the day. We had a great deal of fun. After a stop at the Bushmill's Irish whiskey distillery for lunch and a tasting, the coach hit the road back to Belfast, where Kristy had her first fish-and-chips dinner since she started in Oxford. Luckily, the place we picked turned out to be quite tasty. We even had a humourous exchange with the waiter over the differences between brown, white, wheat, and wheaten bread. For the record, we established that brown and wheat are the same. Wheaten bread is what many of us would call Irish Soda Bread, which is superior to all the others.
On Sunday, I parted ways with Kristy who had an early flight back to England (she also flew into Belfast a half day ahead of me on Friday), and embarked on a circumnavigation of Belfast. The city resembles Baltimore in many ways with its significant shipping and manufacturing influences, profuse brick architecture, etc. I began by walking through Queen's University which had brick architecture that resembled neither Keble nor NC State. Nonetheless, the brick was stunning. I then took a walk through the Ulster Museum, a national museum located in the University's botanic gardens. It was particularly notable for tracing the complicated history of the region in a clear manner. Still, I left with my mind swimming in a hopeless attempt to keep the important facts and figures straight. Thus, I walked via the crowded St. George's Market across town to the Titanic museum for something completely different. This museum filled a towering building near where the ocean liner was originally built. It outlines the construction history of the Olympic class, which included the Titanic. It was interactive without being overwhelming, so I quite enjoyed it.
Finally, after yet another walk across town, I decided to cross into West Belfast to see the peace wall. In preface, throughout the weekend I had seen nothing but British flags around Northern Ireland, so I assumed the political situation was calm and resolute. One could imagine my surprise, therefore, when upon crossing the bridge into West Belfast I was met with a barrage of Irish Republic flags, politically charged murals, and posters highlighting the difference in riot squad weaponry. Wow. Having never been in a place of active political protest, I confess to being a bit scared. I picked up my pace to get to the wall, passing along the way an IRA memorial to civilians who died during the Troubles. The wall itself was shocking. One doesn't expect to see a 30-foot high concrete and barbed wire wall in the middle of a neighborhood of a prominent western country, but there it was. Still creeped out, I turned and immediately set off back towards Belfast city centre. Thankfully my only setback was a pair of men on the other side of the road asking me for something. Their accent was so thick I had no idea what they were saying, and in my heightened state of alert I did not particularly wish to stick around and find out... so I didn't. I'm sure they afterward must have had a good laugh at me, but I sure didn't find it funny at the time!
So that was Belfast. A fascinating city for its massive differences from Dublin and its layered history of political and religious instability. Really, I wouldn't mind going back to learn more. Ignorance may be bliss at times, but it also leads to misunderstanding. Cold leads to fear, fear leads to hate, and hate leads to the dark side. Or something like that.
The next weekend I went home for some old fashioned Americana. Fourth of July at home with the old high school and church friends before a pair of weeks in sunny New England. It should not have surprised me, but I was shocked to realize that all the town names in New England actually ARE English names. Obviously. The trip featured some hiking, some deep sea fishing, a fair bit of genealogy (apparently I have Mayflower relations on both sides? cool!), and a trip along Cape Cod. I also ate a lot of local seafood and sat around to enjoy myself. It was brilliant.
There was no rest for the resting though! The first weekend back in England, my housemate Ellie and I went out to the Cotswolds with another Keble friend. The plan for the day was a bit of hiking in the country around Winchcombe. We saw the ruins of a medieval abbey and had tea and scones with fresh jam in an orchard. The fields of barley beckoned and we happily answered the call. We even had a fly-by from the Red Arrows RAF demonstration team!
Still not taking a weekend off, I spent the following weekend in Paris visiting my Blackpool dance partner, Denny. I nabbed a Eurostar on a Thursday night, so we dropped my stuff and went out to a cafe to catch up. Denny has been working for UNESCO this summer, so on Friday after lunch, she showed me around the headquarters, located in the heart of Paris. From the top floor, one has a brilliant view of the Eiffel Tower past the Ecole Militaire. I also checked out Victor Hugo's mansion and enjoyed a nice long walk across town. On Saturday, we decided to go Chateaux hopping in the Loire Valley. It was great to get outside of Paris again to see these grand mansions. First we visited the imposing Chateau de Chambord, built primarily during the reign of Francis I. The chateau is dominated by four impressive round towers, which are positioned at the corners of the inner keep. Grandiose in every sense, it was well worth the effort (and audio guide) to have a look around. Second, we visited the Chateau de Cheverny, a much more modest estate. The Cheverny mansion, being significantly smaller, was probably more reasonably sized because it belonged to a military commander instead of a monarch. I thought it would be a lovely house to reside in, albeit still larger than any property I will ever own! Both Chateaux were lavish - a fine reason to have a visit!
Exhausted, we had a relaxing night by grabbing delicious ice cream and hitting the Montparnasse Tower, the tallest building in Paris. Naturally the view was splendid, even in the dark. We even saw the Eiffel Tower glitter twice we were there so long.
In the morning, Denny took me to a cafe called Angelina's on Ave du Rivoli, near the Louvre. Their decadent hot chocolate was even strong enough to put me off of a full breakfast - easily the strongest drinking chocolate I have ever set my taste buds on! Needing to exercise, we met one of Denny's friends and headed east on rented public bikes to the Vincennes park for a picnic! There's nothing better than French baguettes with a bit of cheese and salami; add the beautiful sunshine and this was no exception! It was great to just sit and chat in a park far enough away from the centre so that it was predominately filled with locals. After cycling the perimeter of the park and chateau, we then cycled back into town for gooey chocolate crepes in the Jardin du Luxembourg, the gardens of the Luxembourg palace. We had a glorious time, for sure.
Moving right along, I spent the following weekend in Oxford packing for the big move. It was finally time to change apartments, which proved to be a hassle in every sense. To make a long story short, we had to move into college for three days before our new lease started... so we moved all of our stuff twice in one week. It was bad.
Believe it or not, I finally made it to two quiet weekends in a row. On the second, I relaxed by playing a board game with Liam... six times. I lost five times, but hey, you can't win 'em all.
Last but not least... Scotland! I was very excited to finally travel with four of my housemates from the past year. Our six day tour was to take us to the heart of the highlands since we were staying in the Cairngorms National Park. The largest park in Great Britain, the Cairngorms also feature many of the highest peaks in the Isles. As a result, we were keen to take on a week of outdoor activities, ever hoping that the weather would remain friendly.
On the first day, we took it nice and easy, hiking up Cairn Gorm mountain. The mountain was around 1300m, but we climbed 600m (~1800 ft) from the parking lot to the top in just over an hour. Unfortunately, the summit was enshrouded in clouds, but the hike up provided excellent vistas to the north and east. Just below the cloud ceiling was a restaurant (and happy pack of reindeer!) where we grabbed lunch... and a warm funicular ride down. Cairn Gorm was quite windy and cold, so it was good to get back down to the car.
The next day we all packed into the car and drove to Loch Ness. The drive to the far end of the loch was about 2 hours from where we were staying, in which time we discovered an unnatural obsession for the Paul Simon song "Call me Al." The song still haunts me to this very evening. When we reached Fort Augustus at the far southwestern end of Loch Ness, we inspected a particularly noteworthy set of five locks which emptied into the loch. We also waded into the shore of the loch, skipped some stones, and ate our lunch. Thereafter, we drove along the northern edge of the 25-mile long loch up to Urquhart Castle, a 13th century ruins that dramatically stick out into the loch. At last we drove through Inverness on the northeastern end of the loch and headed south to return back to the Cairngorms. I thought it was a good day, though without Nessie's appearance I think the others considered that day the weakest.
Saturday was supposed to be our big hike of Ben Nevis, the highest peak in Great Britain. Unfortunately, the weather didn't cooperate so we altered our plans a bit. Thus we struck out in the morning for Loch Morlich, which lies at the base of Cairn Gorm mountain. Liam, Rebecca, and I took out a canoe while Sam and Ellie suited up and hired kayaks. The wind was fierce but the sun welcoming, so we had a delightful (albeit challenging) paddle around the loch. After the group maniacs went for a polar bear swim, we headed into the village of Aviemore for lunch at Mountain Cafe. Haddock and salmon chowder and a spiced hot chocolate were the perfect treat to shake off the chill of the wind. Returning home in the late afternoon, we had a pretty relaxing evening. Sam prepared a Scottish classic, "haggis, neeps, and tatties", for dinner. I read Burns' Ode to Haggis in my finest Scottish accent while Sam dramatically slashed open the Haggis at just the right moment, "warm, reekin', rich". The haggis took a little getting used to, but was delicious in the end. I even pulled out some leftovers for toast the following morning!
With Ben Nevis out of question, we ramped up our last two days to make the most of our outdoors experience. Thankfully the weather in the Cairngorms remained quite pleasant throughout our week, so we were able to do as we pleased. On Sunday, this involved a 20-mile mountain biking ride on the dirt tracks surrounding Loch Morlich and heading towards Aviemore. This rigorous cycle was quite a workout, but provided both picturesque views and a fair bit of isolation. As a matter of fact, 'isolation' is word I would use to describe most of the week. I've never seen a night sky so brilliant as I did the previous night... we felt a long way from the troubles of Oxford and the 'real world'. Anyway, if you ever get the chance to hire cycles in the Cairngorms (and you are in fair physical shape), do it. You will not regret it!
On our last day, we needed something nice and easy to shake off the stiffness of our cycle ride... so we went on a 10 mile hike, climbing 600m to the top of Carn an Fhreiceadian (878m), part of the Monadhliath range. If you can pronounce any of those words, you're a better person than I. Anyway, we hiked up from the town of Kingussie (pronounced like 'can - you - see'). Early on we left the woods, so about 85% of our hike traversed infinitely wide carpets of purple-ish green heather. Our peak and trail lay obviously before us, and as we climbed, the valley and distant Cairngorms became ever more visible behind us. Where on the first day we hit a distinct cloud ceiling, the clouds today seemed to be released from behind westerly peaks, like water squirting through a rickety wooden dam. So while the stiff wind was kind enough to bring us distant mists from the west, the sun still shone down from rich, blue skies behind us as we admired the broad, carpeted valleys of the east and south east. When we crested the ridge at the knob of Beinn Bhreac (843m), our exhaustion was rewarded with a rainbow in the northeastern valley ahead. The trail followed the ridge to the northwest up to our summit. We didn't stay here long since the wind was ferocious and the mist, well, wet. After regaining some shelter between the peaks, the walk was perfectly pleasant. We saw some sheep bounding through the heather and a few flocks of grouse fluttering between the bluffs.
All that was left on our Scottish adventure was to visit a whiskey distillery. Sitting in the Dalwhinnie tasting room, we recollected the day's hike and the week's adventures over the warmth of four varieties of scotch and some chocolates. The battering of the wind and the pelting of the mist gave tangible purpose for the existence of scotch whiskey. It was very warming.
That night, after one last look up at the stars between the sheep-like clouds, I crawled into bed sad to be leaving Scotland.
Back in wind-less Oxford, a pair of sultry days gave way to a single cooler day. A Christmas song ran through my head. Americans are back at school. Football has started...
Winter is coming.