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.
Saturday, September 7, 2013
Sunday, May 26, 2013
Summer 8s, Cantabridgium, Wales, The Ball, and Trinity Treats
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.
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.
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