Here it is, my last e-mail about Oxford, and I am essentially heartbroken, but to have heartbreak, there must first be joy, so let's start there . . .
I had grand plans of how I was going to finish my long essay well before the deadline. Per usual, these plans did not exactly come to fruition. On Tuesday, I woke up later than I should have, got ready for a day of studying in my room and then decided to accompany Mr. Ben to the Duke Humphrey Library at the Bodleian. It is supposed to be the most incredible part of the Bodleian, which means a lot. Actually, parts of Harry Potter were filmed there! In any case, I had never been and had ordered some books to read there, so I thought that to be as good a day as any. We made then lengthy walk into the city, and I entered a non-Camera Bodleian building for the first time (sad, I know). Getting into the DHL was quite a process. We emptied our backpacks, locked them up, put our laptops in the clear plastic shopping bags provided and stacked our books on our free hand. This position made showing my bod card (type of ID, not innuendo) a little difficult, but I did it and we continued the journey.
We reached the library and it was everything I thought it would be - amazing. I couldn't believe I was a student at the school it belonged to. Nuts. We showed our cards again, had our presence recorded in an intimidating notebook and then proceeded to the book counter. When we asked for the books we had ordered, the man behind the counter gave a little speech about how the DHL was for reading manuscripts, not regular books. We feigned ignorance and apologized. I expected such a situation. I had heard a funny anecdote about a classmate who had ordered Alice and Wonderland to the same library, for a lit tutorial, and endured the same scolding.
We set up camp and worked for hours. We were planning to meet Nick at the Turf Tavern at 7ish - both the DHL and the Camera, where Nick was, closed at 7. He came to visit us at one point, and actually spent the last hour in our little isle with us. Ben had purchased candy mid-study session and gave Nick some M&Ms. Soon a candy-rolling-on-a-desk sound echoed throughout the definitely-not-to-be-eaten-in library. I stifled laughter as he pushed a few over my way. I didn't get as much done as I wanted to, mostly because there was far too much to do, but it was quite fun.
We couldn't handle it anymore, so we left before closing - heading to the Turf around 6:30. It was just around the corner, so it was about 6:34 when we were told they stopped serving food at 6:30. Darn. Famished we were, but sometimes other things can satisfy hunger, like chips, irony and good friends : ) We walked home, stopping at a corner store, and ate some food before returning to the books.
By the end of Tuesday, I had a lengthy outline for my paper, and so Wednesday, all that remained was to write the paper - not so hard, right? That's what I thought, which is why I decided that it would be a good idea to go sight-seeing with a group of friends. Sure, I had a paper to write that would determine the entirety of a grade for a 3-credit class and it was due the next day, but I also like to have a good time. You see, I had this list of things I wanted to do before I left, and seeing some of the beautiful colleges of Oxford was one I had yet to do. A group was going and I was not about to miss my opportunity. We set out, into a city we had dwelt in for over three months, but had had little time to explore. It was our last few days in Oxford, and it felt like the first few had - everyone full of excitement and wonder as we explored the city, except this time, we knew the people around us, and loved them.
We visited a few colleges, all beautiful, took lots of pictures. Trent even batted his eyelashes at one of the guards to let us into one of the colleges early and it worked like a charm :) Okay, maybe he didn't bat his eyelashes, but he did ask nicely. At one point the sky opened up and rain fell as if it had been waiting for years. We were caught in an archway in one of the colleges for a few minutes with a group of strangers equally plagued by the rain. We waited a bit, but then decided to run for it - there were papers to be finished for some, and not a moment to waste waiting for the rain to subside. We ran to the next college and the rain tapered.
We saw deer parks, old trees, an ordinary-looking room named for Oscar Wilde and then made our last stop at the Eagle and Child, the pub wherein I had spent my first night in Oxford.
After the pub, we all took a classic photo in a red phone booth across the street and then parted ways. Abby and I headed back to the Vines, as I was the one most in need of paper-writing.
As I said before, I didn't expect the writing of the paper to be so difficult, but it turned out to be a challenge, mostly because Justin Martyr, Origen, Judaism and Ancient Greek Philosophy aren't the easiest things to write about, especially when one isn't exactly a classicist. By the time I finished writing, it was near midnight. I didn't actually have a conclusion written, but I couldn't write anymore, so I printed a copy and gave it to Abby to read. She read it while I tried to comprehend the looming completion of my academic work in Oxford. The house had a bizarre energy about it. Most of the papers had been completed and people didn't quite know what to do with themselves. When she finished editing, I addressed her remarks and then decided to sleep instead of writing a conclusion.
I set my alarm for 9. The paper was due down town at 12, so I figured I'd have enough time to edit it myself, write a conclusion and take a shower. 9 came too soon. I shut the alarm off and, without really choosing to do so, went back to sleep. Johannah woke me up at 11. Arg. I knew I wouldn't have time to do everything I wanted to do - it was a 40 minute walk! I wrote the conclusion and tried to print it, so Jo could bring it to Frewin for me. Our printer was out of ink. Wonderful. I met Nick on that stairs. He offered to have me e-mail it to him so he could print it at Frewin (where it was due) and turn it in for me. I took him up on the offer. Ben ended up forging my signature. What friends!
Many of us had planned to meet at Frewin at 4 to make a celebratory trip to the Trout Tavern. The Trout is quite far away, but supposed to be world famous and, according to friends who had already gone, pretty amazing. I got ready, cleaned my room etc, and left around 3. Luckily I met Johannah on Pullins Lane. She told me that plans had changed and that we were not meeting at 5 to go to the Turf. I decided to go into town anyway - do some shopping or something. I didn't actually accomplish much besides buying a giant bar of mint-filled chocolate. I was satisfied with one piece but knew I would have no trouble getting rid of it once I joined the group. I went to Frewin.
Some people were downstairs watching a movie. This seemed quite strange to me, as movie-watching, save desperate procrastination, or rare slow nights at the Vines, were not a common accurance - I interrupted and distributed chocolate. We waited a while for people to show up and then headed to the Turf. So began what might stay on the list of greatest nights of my life forever. It was dark and sprinkling, but the wetness made our beautiful city shine and no darkness could dim the joy we felt at finally being free to enjoy ourselves, without looming essays.
There was a great turnout at the Turft - maybe 25 or so people, all but one from the Vines. We gave poor Katherine, the lone Crick representative, a hard time about the Vines being family and Crick hating each other, all in jest, of course.
The excitement that I felt that night, at that pub is something that I can hardly describe. I may be that excited again on my wedding day, maybe. I had done it. I conquered Oxford. I worked harder than I thought I could to accomplish more than I thought I would, and it felt good. We ate and drank and laughed and made toasts, all in an effort to comprehend what we had done. We had written close to 45,000 words, we toasted to that, among other things. It was as if 25 prisoners who had served a life sentence were suddenly released and given back their youth. I could hardly remember life before the stresses of Oxford academia, and all of a sudden it was lifted, and I was left with a few nights in a city that I loved and people that I loved even more.
I could write and write about the feelings of that one 'pub night', but I don't think I could ever do it justice.
Slowly, people began to leave - there was a caroling event going on. I was raining harder at this point, but, as I said, our spirits could not be dampened, even if our clothes were. A small group of us decided to walk the long way to the Vines. Nick's bike had broken that day, and he wanted to throw it off a bridge into a small river we crossed daily. We walked in the rain for a long time. The entire way there, the guys expressed their own sense of victory by committing violence against the bike. It was thrown high into the air, against trees, against brick walls, into the street, straight into the ground. It was thrown countless times, occasionally surrendering a piece of reflector or, one time, its seat to the efforts of the victorious scholars. Even Hilary and I each took a turn on the bike, finding it to be surprisingly fulfilling and not only an arbitrary act of destruction. We finally reached the bridge. Everyone took one final throw, leaving the poor vehicle looking more like ball of scrap metal than anything else, before Nick hurled it into the swollen current. It was glorious.
We finished the walk home, forsaking any hope of being even partially dry. What a sight we must have been upon entering our home. The first order of business was to get in dry clothes. Check. Then I went downstairs to explore the wonderful array of sweet things in the living room. I learned that they were for the carolers so they would be available for partaking when the festive singers returned. I'm not sure what happened then, my memory skips forward a little to mince meat pies and a viewing of Elf, and what a wonderful combination it was. *disclaimer* mince meat pies do not have meat in them.
When we were still at the Turf, Scot took it upon himself to announce that later that night Ben and Johannah would perform. Everyone was pretty excited. As soon as the movie ended and the living room cleared a bit, the bashful musicians prepared. While they prepared, trusty Bryce played a set. Bryce is always ready and willing to perform on command. It was funny because as he played and Ben and Johannah readied themselves to play, many of us were reminded of that time, in the early days, that a small group of us sat outside of the lodge and played music. I wished hard in my head that we had done it more.
Bryce finished and the dynamic duo hi the stage, or pair of chairs. I joined them for the first couple, adding little to their original heartwarmers, but feeling grateful to be called to participate. It was both joyous and heartbreaking. I loved it, but I knew that it would be the last time.
After the musicians were reluctantly allowed to desist by their adoring fans, we would not let the night end, but instead put on a movie and made the couches home. When the movie ended, another was begun - Cast Away. A few of us resisted, but we could feel it ending, and there was nothing to be done but prolong it by denying ourselves sleep. Eventually I succumb to the call of my bed, knowing that watching Tom Hanks endure grueling isolation would not prevent my own separation from a newfound family.
The next morning there was a tea at the Vines, beginning at 10, followed by a chapel service to begin the debriefing. Johannah woke me at about 10:20. We dressed quickly and ran downstairs in just enough time to make some tea and find a seat. The chapel service commenced, followed by farewell speeches by the administration, our own reflections in small groups and some final paperwork. Then, over snacks and tea, we bid farewell to our faithful leaders. They taught us much and encouraged us more. It is profoundly sad to say goodbye to someone who has changed you when you know you will never see them again, but it had to be done.
The rest of the day was filled with wonderful nothingness. People packed, people played, people busily distracted themselves from thinking about the fast approaching farewells. I knew my mom and sister were in town, but didn't actually talk to them until the early evening. They made it to the hostel okay, but had been there for a while. I walked into town to fetch them back to the Vines, not wanting to miss too much time at what had become my home. I found the hostel in a part of town I had never been to, reminding me further of how I regretted having to leave so soon. The hostel was a bit circus-ish and so I felt bad for booking for my mom, but what was done was done. We walked through town a bit, I showed them around city center as much as I thought their jet-lagged heads and legs could bear. We meant to take the bus to the Vines, but decided to find a place to eat, and by the time we found a place, we were practically there. Well, I thought we were practically there. Walking distances are put in a different perspective when walking/biking are ones only form of transportation. We stopped at a nice little kebab place where the owned was happy to tell us of his adventures in Boston.
When we arrived back at the Vines, it was hectic, to say the least. Everyone was packing and cleaning and crying. The kitchen was completely filled with leftover food that had been emptied from the refrigerators and cabinets. Ruth was there to say goodbye to everyone. I felt like a bad host, but I really wanted to enjoy the last hours with my house-mates as well as entertain my new guests. They stayed for a couple of hours, then I walked the to the bus stop, made far too tentative plans for the next morning (no cell phones, remember) as the bus doors were closing and then walked back to join a curb party on the street.
We didn't sleep that night. There was no time. The first batch of people left at around 2am and then more groups every hour or so. We played table jug for a long time, and then death jug, except the death jug had to be ammended because of the large group of people - the table could not hold them. The jug was different too. Somehow the original jug was disposed of, and so a much larger one was used, making things more interesting. For death jug, the table was removed and we stood on the chairs. It was outrageous. I've never seen that kind of team spirit from a real sports team, let alone a group of sleep deprived scholars playing a made up game. I believe Nick even exclaimed at one point "I can't believe we're sober". I was an appropriate comment. We gathered a crowd at the doorways, most likely pulled from their rooms by the deafening cheers, intending to request quiet, as it was the very early morning at this point. Once they saw what was going on, however, no one could bear to ask us to be quiet, and many decided to join.
When the game was ended goodbyes had already been made. We each signed the jug, planning on leaving it in our house for the next generation to find and enjoy as we had, though it may not be impossible for anyone to enjoy anything as much as we enjoyed that empty milk jug.
The goodbyes kept coming and it couldn't be stopped. We watched The Goonies. Jo left at about 4. She spent her last few minutes wedged between Ben and I on the couch. When she left I cried. I was surprised. I told the boys later that I usually try to cry at goodbyes because I feel like I should, because everyone else is crying. Not this time, there was no stopping those tears as that taxi drove away with my roommate.
I went upstairs to Nick and Ben's room to watch them pack, but after seeing Nick smoosh his entire wardrobe into a suitcase unfolded, I resolved to help Ben by folding his shirts. Oh boys. Be selected some depressing music on his ipod as only he can. When our recording of The Advocate began, the tears came again. Had I gone soft? I tried to figure out why I was so heartbroken. It had, afterall, only been 3 1/2 months. Why were these people so special to me? We decided that it was like we had been to war together. We lived together, ate together, worshiped together, played together, and endured some of the most challenging obstacles together. Only we know what fall 2007 SCIO was, only we. We had seen each other happy, sad, depressed, elated, angry, frustrated, apathetic - you name it, we felt it that semester, together. It was as if we had experience years of friendships concentrated into that one, short time period. That was why I felt more like I was graduating and leaving my roommates of years than like I was leaving some people I had known only for a few months. It's a hard thing to explain, and I wont see most of those people again, but we'll always have Oxford. It was real.
Anyway, back to the story. They packed, more people left. We sat in the dark room and watched the skylight illuminate with the rising sun. More people left. We went outside and stood on that curb. More people left. I cried more and more people left. Ben and Nick finally left together for the bus stop. It was raining. I meant to go with them to see them off, but the thought of walking back up Pullins Lane in the rain by myself was unbearable and I hugged them at our door. I cried more and more people left. I watched as almost the entire house walked out of that front door, rolling giant suitcases behind them.
When the morning came, I had some jobs to do before I could leave. I started to pack. I became delirious for lack of sleep. I felt my age as I proved incapable of functioning after a night of not sleeping. The 'all-nighter', a tool I had used many time before, was failing me. When it became a decent hour, I called the hostel and told my mum and sis that I would be there sometime, I probably needed a nap and definitely had more work to do. I napped for an hour or so and then set to taking down shower curtains, one of my tasks.
I finally finished everything and had all my bags in the hallway. I was the last one to leave our room and so it was empty, so empty. It reminded me of the day I moved in - so absolutely clueless of what was about to happen. Dear, sweet Abby helped me with my things. I had planned on making the 45 minute walk to the hostel with all of my things. This would have been absolute hell/impossible by myself and miserable even with Abby's help. I decided to, instead, pay for both of us to take the bus downtown and was instantly pleased with my decision. It was still a rainy and unpleasant trip, but much shorter than I would have been, had I not opted for the bus.
So, that was it. That is how SCIO life ended, not with a bang, but with a whimper. I am changed. I can't even begin to tell all the ways in which I am changed. I know I will discover it more and more as time goes on, though I can see much already.
