It still has not rained. I've been here for how many weeks now and it hasn't rained?? I'm puzzled. I was on kitchen duty this week. A bit of a nice week to have it because almost everyone is leaving for midterm break tomorrow night, then I leave Friday. So, I got out of 3 days. But, I'm actually sad to be off KD because Sam, the junior dean, was in my KD group. He'd wash dishes and sing impromptu washing-up songs while I scrubbed the counters and Betsey cleaned the sinks. Then afterward he'd get out his computer and play silly English songs like "Only Mad Dogs and Englishmen Go Out in the Midday Sun," which I highly recommend. It was a nice part of the evening--a chance to do something simple and satisfying after pounding out the paper all day. I'm exaggerating about the scholarly strain. I really like the paper I'm writing right now, and I'll finish tomorrow. This is a nice way of doing things---no tests or little projects, just papers. So much more is gained.

Almost There

I'm four days and 2,000 words away from mid-term break...

I'm trying not to emphasize the academic side of things too much in this blog, but at this moment, that's really all I'm thinking about. Done: one paper on Shakespeare and one on Austen. To go: one paper on Tennyson's Idylls of the King. Then I get to run off and see some fun things.

The Old Bodleian Library

So, I get to study here.

It's pretty cool.

Though I don't actually study at this part of the Bodleian. Mostly I work at the New Bodleian or at the Camera, which is the picture in the right-hand corner of my blog.

How About Some Pictures of Me With People?

This is Sam, our Junior Dean, the one who herds us around and teaches us things we didn't know about England. He has a good sense of humor and we like him. Oh, and that's Stonehenge behind us in case you didn't notice.

This is Christine. We came together over tea and Dracula, realizing that we both have a thing for that particular Victorian novel. We are at Portchester Castle. The walls around us are marked with the graffiti left by prisoners when the castle was used as a prison.

My Own Reading Room

My new goal is to post something on this blog each day, minimum two sentences. And I'll try to keep the pictures coming.

Current events: I feel loved by the libraries here. I was getting worried because sometimes it's difficult to get copies of the books I need. It's really no problem because they're all at the Bodleian. And I do mean all--legally, every book published has to put a copy in the Bodleian. Oh, and you don't borrow from the Bodleian. That would be seriously illegal.

So, my real problem was that I have a hard time taking notes on my reading without my dictation software--with which I am writing to you now. I have had a problem with wrist inflammation over the past two years. It's manageable, as long as I don't type by hand. Thanks to modern miracles of technology, I talk to my computer instead. You can read books in the Bodleian only in reading rooms, where my dictating to my computer would be annoying to the other students.

Noticing this problem, I got in touch with the proper authorities. Turns out they could set me up with a private room. I now get my books delivered just down the hall from my own private study space. In fact, they are going to hook up my software onto a computer there, so I don't even have to lug my laptop. Perfect. I love Oxford University and its library staff. I am being extremely well accommodated. The room is actually the "Blind Students Reading Room," with a plaque in braille. I'll admit it's not much to look at, but it has become my Ithaca. My stress level because of it will be significantly lowered.

Pictures from Yesterday

This is the Palace of Richard II. Cool. I love Shakespeare's play Richard II because it has a gorgeous speech about England: "This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle, this earth of majesty, this seat of Mars... this blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England." The week I found out I was going to Oxford, I walked around thinking this speech in my head. Did I mention I'm studying Shakespeare here?

This is the H.M.S. Victory--Horatio Nelson! He was extremely fun to learn about. What a hero, what a career, what a death. No wonder people made rings out of his hair and stamped his image on tea cups. (I saw some of the rings and bracelets, and it was as creepy as it sounds.) He was a mega star.

This is me, obviously. I'm on top of Portchester Castle's keep. There's this tiny, winding stone staircase that is absolutely terrifying that gets you up here. I guess once watchmen got up, they didn't really make many trips back down.

This is the view of the Norman church. Those walls behind were built by the Romans.

Trip to South Coast

So many things have happened, I don't know where to begin. My first few weeks here have been packed. Today we went to Portsmouth to visit Lord Nelson's flag ship, the H.M.S. Victory. He had a pretty nice set up in his cabin, but it was crazy to think how many men lived in the rest of the ship, with its cramped spaces and low ceilings. We were not able to take pictures. We also saw Porchester Castle, which was enclosed with Roman walls making it exceptionally old. And we toured the Mary Rose museum--the Mary Rose being one of Henry VIII's ships that sank. It turned too hard and fell over, so a rather silly ending for a warship. They pulled it up and found fantastic Tudor artifacts, like toothpicks and coins and cannons.

Tomorrow I'll be studying all day.

New Thoughts

My Internet has been working steadily, and so, as it happens, have I. I turned in my first paper on Monday. It's nice to get the first one out of the way-- now I feel like I'm really here. So, what's life been like? I have traded the sound of loons for the sound of pigeons in our neighbor's tree. I see our neighbor sometimes, but mostly I see his gardeners. Palm trees line the fence between his pristine lawn and ours (which is not pristine but very lovable). I'm finding my way around the city better now, though I still find myself wandering down streets I have never seen before. These stone-paved roads are addictive: each one curves or intersects with another. The color and texture changes within 10 feet-- rain-blue slates to potato-colored stones to course concrete. I love the toll of bells, a distant stain of sound. Every open door I pass sends out its own scents to the street, clothing, candies, electronics. Open markets carry fruit I've never seen in my life. What I really love is that I have an access card that gets me into the buildings visiters and tourists take pictures of. The architecture is gorgeous. So, I guess you could say I'm okay here.

Why, oh why! thou god of internet dost thou plague me?

So, this blog is turning into a mild failure because my Internet connection is possessed. Not the wireless itself--just my computer's connection to it. Pretty much anytime I even think about blogging or e-mailing or--heaven forbid--doing my homework, the connection dissipates into fog. So, if you're one of my friends who has been kind enough to follow my progress, I apologize that I have not been blogging. Hopefully all shall resolve itself in time.

My Music Stand

From the moment I walked through the door, I was figuring out how to adapt. There was no way to anticipate what would or would not be supplied at my housing, or how things would simply be different. This picture is of one of my more clever adaptations; there was no music stand in the house, so I strung a ribbon over two hooks on my closet door and attached paper clips to it. All of my music is photocopied and light enough to hang easily. In general, I have been pleasantly surprised by my housing. Our shower stopped working after day one, and a day and half later Joyce, the administrator, saw that it was replaced it for us. They have also fed us, and they have served us tea at least 7 times so far--since tea is "what keeps us alive," in the words of Simon, the student affairs tutor. Another adaptation I had to make became pretty apparent after the first night. I'm used to sleeping on an inch of foam padding--a little spoiled I know. Thankfully, I had two blankets in my closet which I layered under the bottom sheet. Now I sleep on an inch of wool.

St. Giles Fair

On Sunday, after having two days to sort of figure out the city, I was stunned to walk down one of the main streets and find it completely blocked off. There were dozens of loud and colorful trucks and trailers squished together on the pavement. Turns out they were setting up for the largest street fair in Britain. St. Giles fair (Giles is pronounced "Jiles") was a chaotic stream of activity in the city center. I saw many Asian and Indian tourists and heard a few familiar American accents. Fairs haven't interested me since I was a little kid, but I was ecstatic when I saw that a Ferris Wheel had been set up in the middle of the street. What a perfect way to see the whole city. I took these pictures from it, and many more. There, right in front of me, were all the postcard shots I had image-searched on Google months ago. Oxford is more beautiful than I had ever anticipated.

No Rain

So, I named this blog "Rainy Days"; however, it has yet to rain. Oxford is lovely in September. It's the tail end of tourist season, and it's still three weeks until term starts. Once Michaelmas Term commences in October, the city's population goes up by about 9,000 students. We are here early because we get to take our fun and informative British Landscape course, which will help us not only see the sites but truly appreciate them. I like the course so far, but I would like it more if I weren't so tired. After my mild insomnia last night, I was sleep walking a bit during the day. It didn't help that we did a photo scavenger hunt. At any rate, all shall be normal in time.

My Room and View

A Better First Post

Alright, so that last post was a bit of a fluke because I wasn't intending to start blogging yesterday, so now I'll start at the beginning. First of all, here's what I'm doing: I am a visiting student of Oxford University and a member of Wycliffe Hall for one term. I will be studying Victorian Literature and Shakespeare, as well as taking a English Seminar and a course called the British Landscape, which gives an overview of British history, culture, etc. I am living with 23 other American students in the program, and there are 48 others at a different house.

Oxford University is composed of 39 colleges and 6 private halls. It is a stunning university with some of the best instructors and libraries in the world. I feel very fortunate to be here. I was inspired to apply to this program for many reasons--having an Oxford professor give a lecture at my college was one--and I became set on going after traveling to Australia for band tour last May. The Oxford professor made me curious about what life is like in a serious research university environment, and the Australia trip hooked me on the idea of living in a different country. A large attraction for me was the tutorial system of education in the UK. Essentially, I will be learning independently. I will spend one hour every week or fortnight with my tutors for Victorian Literature and Shakespeare after spending around twenty hours on my own researching and writing for those sessions (that's 20 for each). This system is a nice fit for me. I was home schooled and, as my Mother would tell you, I enjoy doing my own thing.

As I was preparing to leave, it was not the academics that intimidating me: it was flying by myself. I can get quite spacey and lost. While my parents were driving me to the airport, I had this clenched feeling in my stomach that I haven't felt since dangling over the slender wire tracks of a rollercoaster about to drop. I was gripping my passport holder, convinced I'd lose it even if I set it on the seat next to me. My Mom watched me walk through security, where I had two strikes--One: I didn't take my laptop out of it's case. A rather tired and otherwise disgruntle airline worker informed me that this is required. Two: I had my hair up with enough pins to set off the metal detector. An nice airline worker with more sense of humor had to use a wand to make sure I wasn't hiding anything.

Then, my boarding pass had the wrong gate on it. A few other people figured that one out, and I just followed them. At the gate, I joined the other travelers, who all had the same absent way of looking around at the gate's blue chairs and carpet; our minds were already present to a hundred different destinations, each a plane ride away. There was a woman and small boy with English accents; in nine hours, I would be the one with the accent, while they'd be traveling home.

Flying is flying. It's just what it is. Tight seats, dry air, new movies, and the allure of sleep--a state you never quite reach. I flew overnight into the perpetual dawn (which was blocked by friendly shades). On the other side, everything went smoother than I ever would have imagined. The customs line was short and quick, my bag made it through (a tiny bit damaged), and my wonderful English friends were waiting for me right outside the terminal. Steve and Jo drove all the way from Yorkshire to pick me up and take me to Oxford. My family met them during the nine months they lived in Minnesota. I was a bit bleary after the flight, but they took care of me. They even left me with a few food items once we reached my housing. I am so, so grateful to them.

TBC

First Post in Oxford

It's 1:00am here, and I can't sleep. I finally gave in and took half a sleeping pill but figured I might as well get my blog going while it's kicking in. Jet lag is wearing off slowly; it helps that everything here is absolutely fascinating. I find myself reading food labels quite a bit. Thankfully, whenever I get confused by something British, I can always ask Sam. Sam is the junior dean of Crick House--what we would call a resident director. He's a grad student, and the 23 of us under his charge like him immensely. He's English, and he had no clear idea what we knew or didn't know about living here. For instance, the girls on my floor didn't know how to operate the locks on our doors. I finally figured it out, and Sam laughed because those locks are very standard. Also and more amusing is that most of us didn't know what "squash" meant. There have been bottles of Apple and Blackcurrant Squash sitting out for breakfast every morning, and it's always been pretty funny to watch the next poor person pour a glass of it and try to drink it---squash means concentrated, so without water mixed in it gives you quite a zing. And speaking of zing, I am running out; I think the sleeping pill is finally starting to help.