Goodbye to Oxford, My Dear Friend

 It's a shock to the system that a year and a half has passed since I departed my dear Oxford.

And yes, I realise that it's ostentatious to use those three words: my dear Oxford.

But I've tried on several occasions to pound out this post-game analysis to no avail. The test escapes this poor, linguistically-challenged engineer for attempting to make my time in Oxford nostalgic without being sappy. There comes a time when one must finally accept the inevitable.

Then again, in engineering we often find success by redefining the problem in a different light.

So. What makes Oxford magical?

Tourists flock to Oxford from both within and without the UK. They seek Oxford's charming architecture, the menagerie of sub fusc-clad species, Wonderland, Hogwarts, and the Inklings. But I have an inkling that it takes longer than a Master's degree (or even a doctorate!) to discover what makes Oxford so special.

I have so many fond memories from my time in the City of Dreaming Spires. Several of those came from trips to Port Meadow, that enchanting field just a hop, skip, and jump from city centre. Under golden autumnal skies, the sail boats gently cut through the water. In the winter, a light snow fall ushers you out to the Trout Inn for a mulled cider. During the rainy season it's not uncommon for the entire meadow to flood, leaving you sad there's no passable route to Wolvercote. In the summer, barbecues dot the field, as people sing, dance, eat, and celebrate; you and one of your best friends can go pick fresh strawberries around the corner in Binsey. At any time of year the stargazing is magnificent and it's easy to let your head swim around the stars, whilst discussing philosophy or the world or dance or the future.

Back in town, there is of course so much to see and do. It emanates from college life, where 'Formal Hall' must be seen to be believed. I don't know very much Latin, but if I had a pound for every pre-meal recitation of 'Benedictus benedicat per Jesum Christum dominum nostrum. Amen,' I could retire in Summertown tomorrow. I made it to nowhere near all of the colleges for dining, but pretty much all that I visited had some variant on that theme (even if they weren't sung, as at Keble Sunday Hall). There are two sides to every coin however, and for every formal hall or black tie dinner I attended, there was a college function that totally surprised me. You wouldn't necessarily expect such formal, prim and proper settings to play host to bops (too many stories for a lifetime of blog posts!) and carnivals, but such is the nature of Oxford. Yes, I even recall sitting with the dean (i.e. disciplinarian)  and a prominent member of the alumni association - both engineers - at a formal dinner, where the latter argued that the drinking rules had become so strict these days. I can't imagine 20 years ago. I don't miss sconceing though.

Of course, food and drink are only two aspects of college life. When the days get warm, nothing is better than an afternoon of croquet on the college lawns (especially with Pimm's). Friends come and go, greeting you as they pass, whilst you try to line up the perfect shot, sending your opponent's ball to Timbuktu - and yours right to the hoop. All the while with centuries old buildings looking on. In the winter months it's easy to find interesting talks and performances to go to - be they by Phillip Pullman, Sir Ian McKellan, the Russian State Ballet, politicians at the Oxford Union, economists, actors, you name it. Or - you and your friends can read Shakespeare by the fire in comfy leather sofas. The density of arts and culture in the colleges and university is nigh overwhelming.

And outside of college? The possibilities are basically endless. One of my lab mates used to always go on about the fact that there's an Oxford Mango Appreciation Society. Jenna used to take me to the Teddy Hall Chocolate Tasting Club, but there was a vast array of group and individual activities one could try - octopush, netball, canoe polo, real polo, 'real tennis', cricket, a bajillion other (more 'normal') sports, Role Playing Game Society, language clubs, punting, picnicking, pubbing, parking (i.e. going to parks), reading groups, acting, music (I never did get to get involved in the Oxford Millennium Orchestra, sadly!), board games with friends, jaunts to the Cotswolds and London.... enough things for a lifetime. Even competitive ballroom dancing.

All of these things are amazing, but the question remains - what makes Oxford truly magical? I wish I could step into the shoes of everyone on earth to experience their most brilliant moments. I wonder how five years in Oxford would compare. Very highly, I assume. But why?

In April of last year I was working on my corrections, but keenly aware that my days were numbered. Alone in my office, I copied a list of the world's countries into Excel. How many countries were represented by the people whom I had met in Oxford? Believe it or not, over 60.

I had learned about life in Syria. Travels in Ethiopia. Growing up in Russia. Learning formation dance in Poland. Having family in Bulgaria, Canada, California, and Italy whilst interning in France. Visiting Mauritius. The Maori history of New Zealand. That the Swedish don't ride polar bears to school. Visa troubles experienced by people from, for example, Turkey. That Iranians are amongst the friendliest people. That Sinterklaas brings Dutch kids excellent St Nicholas Day treats. That 'Rhodes Must Fall' and 'Confederate flags must fall' have similarities and differences... and that people everywhere are ultimately people with views and ideas crafted by amazing personal experiences.

...and I learned these things over a breakfast at Green's Cafe or Viny's. Or while having tea and scones in the Acland dorm. Or having a sandwich in Uni Parks. Or sitting in South Parks at sunset.

You see, the architecture of Oxford is indeed amazing. The academics are great. As is the history. The activities and the hobbies are also amazing. Port Meadow is amazing, as is quickstep practice on a Saturday morning and dressing up as Jean Valjean for a Revolutions bop.

But what makes Oxford magical is the people. Not just because they're smart or witty or friendly or can talk intelligently about any topic - but because of being different and sharing a common experience. They are not necessarily engineers, or from Virginia, or dancers, or musicians  (though some are) - but they are passionate about the act of inquiry; the acquisition of knowledge and experiences.

And whether working hard or playing hard, the students of Oxford never lose sight of how remarkable the city is, and their privilege to be there.

In my last weekend in Oxford we had a dance in St Columba's church and a barbecue - where else - in Port Meadow. Though I had been in those places frequently and hosted many barbecues, the air was still unique that weekend. It was bittersweet as we celebrated the years past. Yes, people from all over the world were there assembled as friends in the Oxford we knew and loved, connecting over things we loved most.

Now, with those magical memories fading into the distant past, I can only hope that one day we will walk those cobblestoned streets together once more.

For my dear Oxford is their dear Oxford too.