merlot and pipe tobacco

I wake up minutes before my alarm goes off. Perhaps I have bettered myself already. I don't get out of bed until it does go off. Perhaps not much has changed after all. I throw on some layers. Layers are important in this country, I don't really get degrees "C", but I know what cold feels like. I say good morning to my roommates, finish my minimalist morning routine, and head downstairs. When I reach the kitchen, I can always count on being greeted by a host of housemates. We eat our cereal and toast together, the morning people with their eggs. Then, it is time. I pull out my ipod, select the morning tunes and hop on my bike. I take a second to remember mornings before I had a bike, not a whole lot different, just a bit earlier.

It takes about 15 minutes to get to 'Wycliffe Hall' - our college within Oxford. I always give myself about 25 or 30, no one likes rushing on a bike. The first little bit is all down hill and speed bumps - a sort of obstacle course. Then, through a bit of Oxford outskirts and then into the park. It's a great bike trail through meadows that I always remember I want pictures of, but only for those fleeting seconds I am in them. Minutes later I shoot out of the bike trail and rejoin traffic. I pass old buildings where people are learning and enjoy the cold air on my face, though it tends to bring tears down my face. No matter, I'm almost there. Bike riding, and walking for that matter, are a bit tricky here. When faced with an oncoming person, I instinctively veer right. This works great in the states, but people here veer left, causing an awkward little dance. This dance can be a bit more threatening when on a bike. No accidents yet, but I am still trying to internalize this backward way. I have just recently trained myself to ride on the left side of the road.

I love my bike. It's my favorite possession right now, though it's not really mine. I have taken ownership of it and named it Tallulah. She is friends with Tina Turner, Hilary's bike. We travel together.

Soon enough, Tallulah brings me safely to Wycliffe Hall. I lock her up, for her protection, of course, and head inside, using my secret code or pass card. I feel special already, until, of course, I join the 60 other students in a large lecture hall for the viewing of Simon Schama's series on British history. We like to call him "shams" and sing along to operetic opening music. I usually don't fall asleep anymore, though there are still those days. Shams lasts and hour, then it's time for tea. We get a half hour every day for tea. It's simply divine. After tea, we re-congregate in the hall for, you guessed it, a lecture. It could be on anything, really, and by anyone, empericism, literary tourism perhaps, or maybe romantic poetry. Usually it's interesting, but sometimes I fall asleep. I don't try to, it just can't be helped.

After the lecture, we get lunch. The British, it seems, are quite fond of the mashed potato, so we get them at every meal. I'm not complaining. It's a good dish, usually accompanied by a sort of meat, or the vegetarian option. We make a decision based on looks alone because, as with most things in this country, we lack the experience.

Freedom, sort of, when lunch is finished. We all exchange plans of which library we will lock ourselves in for the coming hours. Rigorous studies ensue - everyone working on a 2250-2500 word response to one of any number of intentionally vague and elusive questions we could have picked from. Around dinner time, I hope back on my bike and make the journey back to the Vines. The downhill part I mentioned earlier has become uphill and much less fun. I struggle up Headington Hill until I reach it, my home.

At this point, there is always a great slew of people in the warm kitchen trying their hand at various culinary ventures. I usually keep it simple, unable to conjure the motivation to cook for one. Tortellini again. I'm happy. We converse and laugh and tell stories from our day. Eventually some begin to drop off, retreating to their rooms to re-hit the books or video conference their fiance. I usually look for reasons not to work. We play music or hit a pub or anything that is unrelated to British academia. Then, the next day, it happens again.

Of course, every day brings it's own little errands and occurrences, but that is the gist of my weekdays, excepting the field trip days when we get on our double-decker bus and head to St. Albans, Winchester or Bath to see humbling cathedrals or wonder at ancient ruins. Today, I went to a Catholic mass for fun. There is a great variety of church backgrounds represented here, which makes for interesting and educational experiences.

I have turned in my first essay - 2500 words exactly - about Queen Elizabeth I. It hasn't been returned to me, so I'm not sure how I did, but I think it was okay. Then again, this is Oxford, so my 'okay' may not cut it. I have two others to finish before I leave next Thursday. I don't like to think about it and most of us don't like to talk about it, though not much else comes up these days.

Thursday, I will go to London, visit some museums and then meet up with my cousin who is studying at the City University (I think, don't quote me). I will spend some quality time with her before catching a flight to Barcelona on Saturday. Now, for those who I've talked to recently, you may be confused. Yes, I was going to Ireland, but, as it turns out, my mother wants to go to Ireland with me. So, this afternoon, I cancelled my hostel reservations in Ireland, re-made them in Spain and booked a flight. Travelling alone has it's perks - flexibility being one of them.

After that break (Thurs-Tues), my life will change completely. There will be no more shams and no more lectures, just research, paper-writing and 3 one-on-one tutorials with Oxford profs every 2 weeks. I will study Victorian Literature and early church doctrine. I will still be writing and researching my life away, but for new people and not as much in the community as I am now. Times spent with peers will need to be more intentional and breakdowns may ensue. It is sort of like that one or two crazy weeks every semester when it feels like everything is due at once, except that is my academic life all semester. Cool.

I will, however, persevere. I will conquer this program and return to the states victorious. I have found kindred spirits in whom to confide and with whom to rejoice and mourn. That being said, pray for me, without that, those words of victory are empty.

I am well, in short, better every day, in fact. I love people and learning, and there is no shortage here. I miss you, though. When things go wrong, I do long to be in the company of those who know me better.