Baby Zebras! And MORE

Jambo! Karibo!

I'm writing this on the bus back to Oxford from Gatwick airport, after flying Kilimanjaro to Dar es Salaam to Amsterdam to London.  Yuck yuck yuck.

quick digression Amsterdam is the first place I've been repeatedly misidentified as a native! Which just resulted in me making a fool of myself repeatedly:
      Situation: Dutch stewardesses/employees/cute little kids in store/etc. talk to me in Dutch.
      Me: Dumb blank stare. Awful at responding smoothly or even realizing what was going on.    
      Stewardesses/kids/etc.: Look at me strangely. Graciously apologize.
      Me: Awkward attempt at reducing awkwardness: "Well, my blood is Dutch, but I'm American!"
      Launch into family history which just prolongs awkwardness without realizing they weren't
      getting half of what I was saying.  Happened several times.

Anyways, on to Tanzania, a.k.a. land of adorable baby zebras!  Every year, my family takes one big trip a year around Christmas.  This year we went on safari, which has single-handedly ruined zoos for me for the rest of my life.  Because it is SO MUCH MORE INTERESTING to watch animals interact than just watch animals in a cage.  Doubters? Presenting the top 10 safari moments from Tanzania that we saw LIVE:

1. Three brother cheetahs chase down second-to-last wildabeast in herd of 200.  Eat wildabeast alive.
2. 12 elephants take mud bath together. Teenagers wallow and play and smile a lot.  Elephant slippage everywhere. 
3. Colobus monkeys make 30 foot jump over road between two trees.  About 90 feet in the air. 
4. Baby lions sleep together. Paw at each other.  Roll over.  Yawn.  Annoy mom. Too cute to handle. 

   

   Lions taking advantage of truck shade next to us. 

5. Dumb wildabeast herd try to cross muddy lake.  A few get stuck.  Rest of wildabeast follow in line until 100 are stuck.  Spend next hour trying to keep following in line. No one thinks to turn around. 
6. Hyena chase off pack of about 50 vultures to eat some dead zebra.  Vultures fight like crazy for the rest, and then have to dry their wings off to rid of blood. 
7. Mama gazelle gives birth to tiny baby.  Baby learns to stand and tries to run.  Falls a lot.
8. Horny zebra males get repeatedly rejected by females. The ladies were not feeling it.  Back kick to the face.  On that note, baboon boners also deserve to make this list. 
9. Super healthy giraffe males fight by wrapping necks around each other.  Kind of looks like dancing.
10. Mad (HUGE) bull elephant decides our truck got a little too close.  Chases after us.  Trumpets and flares ears.  Terror. Those are some long-ass tusks.

Bull starting to chase our car. Note how close the tire marks were.

Really good pictures of top 10 will come soooooon.  They are on my parents' camera which is flying back to the States, where pictures will be sent to me.   I tried my hand at wildlife photography which was oodles of fun.  

Anyways, we also stayed in the area of the Maasai tribes of Africa, who are nomadic herders that maintain their traditional culture.  Polygamous/polyandry society.  Men are circumcised at the age of 15-20 without anesthetic and without making noise; we saw some newly circumcised teens dressed in black.  Squirm.  Our amazing Tanzanian guide Isaac was telling us how hard the Maasai are on women: they build the houses, cook, raise the cattle, and raise the children, while the men trade animals and drink liquor, according to him.  Also they are really sharp dressers.  

It was hard to fathom how different the lives of these women were. I couldn't help imagining that suppose there was a clone of me born in the Maasai tribe. There is hardly any way she'd end up at Oxford, through no fault of her own. She'd be married by 12 or 13 without any choice in the matter. It makes me feel fortunate or guilty or both, I can't decide which.  It's just one of those life questions that puts things in perspective. 

It was wonderful to see my family again, although it was even harder to say goodbye this time since I don't know when I'll see them again.  Sniff.  All in all though, a great holiday.  Now to bury my nose back in books. 

Lalla salama!  (Sleep well in Swahili) 

Lisa 

Addendum to Amsterdam: A discussion of prostitution

I've been wrestling over what bothered me about the red light district.  I couldn't at first put a finger on it, because I thought it agreed with my philosophical stance for the following reasons:

1. I'm a realist.  Prostitution has been and will always be a part of society.  There will always exist a black market for paid sex.  It's unrealistic to assume that outlawing prostitution will make it disappear.
2. Assuming prostitution will always exist, if it is illegal and therefore clandestine, prostitutes are some of the most at-risk members of the population: medical risks (STDs), exploitation, drug abuse, violence, impoverishment, the list goes on.
3. Legalizing prostitution, therefore, seems to be in-line with my philosophy: it provides a safe environment for an at-risk population without any judgment as to the morality of their job: help everyone regardless of their transgressions, a Christian view I do believe in. Concerns about safety and protection seemed to outweigh concerns about the morality of prostitution in my mind.
4. Furthermore, I wonder also if legalization removes the aspect of exploitation from prostitution.  Are prostitutes subject to the same exploitative environment that one hears about in the U.S. through pimps, etc.; or do they indeed enjoy more autonomy in their work in Amsterdam?  If it is the latter, theoretically this also takes away some concerns about the morality of prostitution, as in essence I support a woman's right to do what she wants with her body.  The argument would go in the U.S. that prostitutes aren't making a conscious choice of what to do with their bodies since it's such an environment of oppression and exploitation; absent of this oppression and exploitation, prostitution becomes a woman's rights issue. I doubt Amsterdam is entirely absent of these two factors, but even if it is closer to autonomy it would be an improvement over illegal prostitution operations.

In short, I thought that prostitution legalization here actually fit with my philosophy. Yet, something was nagging at my philosophical subconcious all day, which I think I've nailed down.

1. From above: prostitution will always exist and should be legal to increase safety and (theoretically) remove aspects of exploitation and oppression, returning it to it's place among womens' rights.
2.  Yet, does the legalization of prostitution actually increase the amount of prostitution taking place? Does the legalization of prostitution mean that it becomes more acceptable in the eyes of men to purchase women like objects from shop windows? This is where my philosophy starts competing with my morality.

What struck me about the streets of Amsterdam was the number of guys that didn't look like they were normally into prostitutes, who were suddenly into prostitutes.  The average Joe was rapping on those red-lit windows. Two conclusions could be drawn:

1.  Average Joes seek out prostitution normally; it's my perception that they don't which was wrong.
2.  Average Joes see the legalization of prostitution as a way to morally realize or access their dirtiest desires.  Legalization makes something previously not okay in their heads now okay.

If I go with my hunch and say that some Average Joes are indeed more likely to seek out prostitution in Amsterdam than places where it's illegal, my entire logical argument for the legalization of prostitution starts to unravel. Why? Because underpinning the concession that prostitution will be a part of society is the assumption that it shouldn't be. We'd like to get rid of it, but oh well, it exists.

But what if the legalization of prostitution increases the usage of prostitution? For instance, if it was legalized everywhere, would more of our average Joes start sleeping with prostitutes?  I find this thought disconcerting not because I don't support the right of women to do what they want with their bodies (I do) but rather that I have a hard time separating the issues with commodification of women from the idea of prostitution.  As much as I want to set aside my own moral judgments on these women's profession, I can't.  I guess seeing the Red Light district made me painfully aware that even if I want to be liberal and open-minded towards prostitution, I still see it as men objectifying and buying women.  And the red light district, where average Joes were doing so, nagged at me.  Because if it were legal, would more average Joes see the objectification and purchasing of women as a legitimate Saturday-night passtime? Would enough men take a moral stance against a legally-approved industry? Or would legalizing prostitution lead to a normalization of something that in essence I think shouldn't be normalized: seeing women as objects to be bought with enough money?  I want to support these women by protecting them, but I still seem to be unable to get past the concern that legalizing prostitution (and therefore more adequately protecting prostitutes) would validate views among men that I don't support.

Or does strolling through the Red Light district, and legalizing prostitution as a whole, merely show in sharper relief those who would purchase a women and those who oppose purchasing a woman on other grounds than simply that it is illegal?  Does it make men acknowledge openly what they're doing by bathing them in red light? Maybe that's not a bad thing either.

I'm still contemplating.  But the Red Light district was thought-provoking, at the very least.  If nothing else, visit it for that reason: to really examine your own views towards the industry.

Windmills and other W things

First update on location!  Greetings from Amsterdam! It's that awkward time when it's too late to see the sights but too early for dinner, so here I am in the hostel, waiting out the rain.

I have never seen a city that is quite so much of a juxtaposition of two worlds as Amsterdam is.  Every gift shop wrestles with putting quaint little porcelain blue-and-white dutch figurines clad in wooden shoes next to penis-shaped salt-and-pepper shakers.  Tulip stands sell tulip buds next to very illegal (in the U.S.) plants.  There's a sex store next to a traditional Dutch bakery where I bought Oliebollen.

It's even more confusing considering I tend to equate Dutch with frugality and conservatism.  I grew up in a Dutch community; 3/4 of my grandparents are Dutch.  The [American] Dutch I know value penny-saving and religion.  Very different than the open-minded attitude of Amsterdam towards drugs and sexuality.

My one-day tour of Amsterdam was much of a mash-up of these two worlds.  Got here last night, made it safely to my hostel where I quickly met some Australians and French.  We all proceeded to a "coffee shop" which does not sell coffee but instead boasts the most disconcerting menu I've seen. A menu composed entirely of illegal substances; the Amsterdam approach is that it's easier to regulate if it's out in the open.  You almost cannot escape the smell of weed in the city: our french friends complained that no one smokes cigarettes here; it's always something different. 

We then proceeded to take a stroll through the red light district, famous for the ultraviolet rooms that line the canals and house scantily-clad prostitutes of all shapes and sizes that leer seductively as you walk past. 

In a non-surprising turn of events, I had mixed feelings.  On one hand, considering the profession of prostitution is not going away, I commend Amsterdam for taking really good care of those most at risk.  Yet, I couldn't help but think of how much it felt like window-shopping for women.  This was particularly evident when we walked past women sitting on backless chairs that were designed to prominently display their butts and not their faces. Objectification, commodification; clearly my feminist brain cannot turn itself off.

Anyways, after finishing the night by enjoying a Heineken in a pub (enjoying, really! I liked Heineken), I woke up this morning and trotted off to the Flower Market.  The Flower Market is this quaint row of stands that sell tulips of all types, along with other Dutch goods like kissing figurines and gouda cheese. All I could think of was my grandmother's dining room with all of her blue and white Dutch porcelain.  So I bought a bunch of things to zip off to my grandparents.

Then it was off to the Van Gogh museum, which is ONE OF if not THE BEST art museum I've ever seen in terms of well-designed layout.  It walks you through Van Gogh's life and artistic evolution, all the way to his death and lasting influence.  It was fabulous. Walked in some cheese stores and got the free tasters, and had a fried dough ball (Oliebollen) which was very good if not completely unhealthy. Stopped by Anne Frank's house, saw the Dutch palace, strolled the canals, went to the flea market, and bought some Dutch waffle cookie things. And then I went shopping because my hostel was smack-dab in the middle of the shopping district and I couldn't resist.  Ended up with black boots which my dad is going to scold me for when he sees them tomorrow (conversation will go: Dad: Those aren't Practical! Me: When in Europe...[point at the other 500 women walking through airport in boots]).

I am probably most proud of not getting lost on this trip.  Amsterdam is this city of concentric circles of canals, so the roads kind of fan outwards from the same starting point. All the canals look the same, roads don't connect to each other, and there's lots of lonnnng street names that all have almost the same letters in them.  But I didn't get lost! Proving everyone wrong, I tell ya.  Who says I need a Garmin (man, i miss my Gary). 

My family flies in to Amsterdam tomorrow!  I'm getting up at the crack of dawn to catch the train over to the airport, and then we're traveling for the next 10 days.  I am quite excited to see them.   I am bringing them mince pies as tastiest example of English food I've had so far (except for maybe fish and chips, but you can't fly with those). 


Off to dinner.  Happy holidays! Lisa

RrrrrrrOMA! And the Popemobile.

BonJOURno! [insert wide sweeping hand gesture]

Dear Rome, you are now my favorite city.  Despite the whole purse stolen thing (more on that later).  Still, you have won my heart.  Top five reasons why you're just the best:

1.  The Vatican museums. OH. MY. Rafael rooms are jaw-dropping. Sistine Chapel is jaw-dropping. It's almost impossible to appreciate it all because you start acclimating to room after room of incredible beauty and get symptoms called "breathtaking-sculpture fatigue" and "gorgeous-painting overdose."

I was most overwhelmed with how it demonstrated the power of the Catholic Church.  They commissioned some of the most famous works in the world.  They monopolized the time of the most influential painters of the era.  It's like if they took Britney Spears or Oprah or Michael Jackson or something and bought five years of their time, like they did Michelangelo.  Incredible influence.

2.  Pizza. Pasta. Italian pizzas are thin crust and swimming in grease and you have to fold the pieces to eat them properly.  But man are they good.  When you find a place that makes true Italian pizza; all the places around the tourist sights all make bad, not-Italian style pizza (first day misstep).  But turn down a charming side street and your taste buds will be thrilled.

3.  Colosseum.  Jaw-dropping for other reasons. It's a bit chilling to think how many people died in the structure, how people used to watch others fight to the death from the very balconies you're strolling. How the floor was covered in sand to soak up the blood.  It is just huge though, and it's not every day you get to wander through a building built around 80 A.D.

4.  Nana-nana-nana-nana Popemobile! [cue the Batman tune] Here we were, sipping caffe in a caffe last Thursday. Little did we realize that it was one of the many Catholic holidays (something about the virgin Mary I think).  And the Pope was due to make an appearance.  My friend facing the caffe window casually commented "Hey, there's the Pope." And indeed, for a split second, there he was carting down the street in what looked like a space-age vehicle from the Jetsons with a white frame and a glass top.  Then followed about 100 other guards. Win!

5.  I'm having trouble picking only one 5th reason. Amazing fountains.  Crazy statues of Athenian gods and allegorical figures of Justice and Liberty and Strength, etc. The Via Sangra.  The Swiss Guards' outfits. The ruins of the palaces where the Roman emperors lived, on top of the Palatine hill.  The embarrassing huge self-serving monument complex the last king built himself. The weekend trip to Naples that will be saved for another blog post. Actually, my fifth reason will have to be the Italian language.

To speak Italian: Gesture. A Lot. Especially if you're speaking on the phone and the person can't see you.  Over-emphasize. A Lot.  BonJOURno!  ItaliANo! BellISsimo! Also as a side note to pass as Italian you should probably smoke a lot, own a motorbike, and wear boots (female) or extremely nice scarves (male).

I tended to revert to Spanish and then just trying to speak it with an Italian accent.  About half the time I'm pretty sure they had no idea what I was saying and I would've been better off staying in English because at least they've heard it from other tourists. Half the time it was real effective. I even bartered effectively.  I think I could learn Italian pretty quickly, it's a lovely lovely sounding language.

Italy has one strike against them due to the theives that stole my purse.  Sad day.  It had my camera, so the memories I have will have to be enough.  And it had my passport, which may cost me more than the whole trip combined.

But, in the course of life, lost passport and camera < amazing experience of seeing Rome.  Grazie mille, Italy, I hope dearly to be back.

How to Be British / FRISBEE NATIONALS

I know, I haven't updated lately. In a predictable turn of events, the end of the term got busy. Shocking.  Luckily that just means I have tons more interesting things to talk about now....

I'm developing a theory of How to Become British.  Here's what you have to do:
-  If there's an R in the middle of the word, don't pronounce it.  Hard becomes "Hahd"
-  On that note, if there's an A, it's an "ah"   Pahty.   Fahncy.
-  It's Zed, not Z silly.
-  Also a bathroom is not a bathroom because it's not where you're taking a bath.  It's a Loo or a Toilet.
-  Also, your questions must have a more sing-songy tonal pattern. Like your voice hits high and low pitches several times in a question.  I am working on a way to demonstrate the difference.
More theorizing later....

British Ultimate Frisbee Nationals were this weekend in the lovely city of Wolverhampton, which looked remarkably like suburbia U.S.A. except for the double decker buses and the old churches and all of the terrifying roundabouts.  So many roundabouts.  It's because they didn't do the whole grid-system for roads way back in ancient times when they settled here, I think, so they have these crazy 4-street junctions with 5 lanes of weaving cars. So glad I'm not driving here.

ANYWAYS, I digress, so the frisbee part... We came in seeded something like 15th, worked our way up to seeded 5th after day one, and then dropped down to 9th in the end. 9th best indoor team in Great Britain!  It's a bit funny because we hadn't practiced as a team at all; we relied entirely on the fact that we had individually skilled players.  We improved a LOT over the weekend and I learned a ton of indoor strategy very quickly.

The only Irish team took the title.  Gosh darn Irish.  We slept in a church hall with the other 32 teams there which went remarkably well (actually the most sleep I've ever gotten at an Ultimate tournament, huh).  We've also begun the attempt to rename the Ultimate team here the Oxford Wizards. Because we have to wear silly sub fusc robes, and because Harry Potter was filmed here, and Tolkien wrote about wizards while here, and Hermoine goes here, and well because it'd be a properly ridiculous ultimate team name.

Other things that have happened in the last two weeks:  I rowed in the Christ Church Regatta which is a novice regatta with about 60 other rowing teams, it was insane.  I went to London and saw Buckingham Palace and a biking parade centered on celebrating wearing tweed (could you be more British?).  I also made the pilgrimage to 221b Baker Street and celebrated my absolute favorite author.  I finished up the Netball season here and have mastered the Wing Attack position although I'd be hopeless at playing any other position because I wouldn't know where to go.  I also ate fish and chips.  Check that off the list.  I have also found myself absorbing more and more British terminology, like stash, rubbish, mate, pitch, loo, quid....

I also just now finished with my term which means on to Rome tomorrow! We fly out at some ridiculous early hour and have to catch the bus from Oxford at 2 a.m.  Nothing like sleep-deprived sightseeing.  I am on a mission to find good Italian pizza.  There will be lots of pictures.

Cheerio! Lisa

What I'm Thankful For This Year

This is a couple pf days late, but it's never too late to be grateful for the talents we have, the opportunities we've been given, and the people who support us.

Some of the things I'm thankful for right now:

• My dad's health.  He's had a debilitating chronic cough for over a year and just recently started to get better. 
• My fellow students at St. Hilda's College. I couldn't have asked for a better group of people to adjust to living at Oxford with.  What an amazing group.  My experience here would be totally different without them. 
• Good cheese.  It's quite nice to have such affordable, delicious cheese options. 
• Rowing!  How challenging and rewarding at the same time.  Lots of exercise, shared experience, supportive captains, and the experience of being on a calm river at sunrise. I now have so much respect for rowers. 
• The amazing scenery of Oxford.  I've never ceased to be wowed by the grandeur of the old gothic buildings, and I get to bike past them every day.
• I'm thankful for the little spoken differences between the U.S. and the U.K. They're always a true delight to discover. Rubbish, press-ups, keen, pre-lash, fancy, so many more.... Cheers, U.K. 
• Skype.  Without it I'd feel so lost.  
• London. I went for the first time yesterday and felt completely rejuvenated.  So much life, so much culture, so close by.  Good for the soul.
• My faithful bike.  Despite being really old, transported on a plane, dropped a couple of times, and having hardly any breaks and several gears broken, it still keeps on going, and gets me all over every day.  I ride at least 5 miles a day these days across town. 
• My own health.  I've been able to play four different sports all term.  Nothing makes me more able to study than being able to run around for a break. 
• I'm thankful that I found a muffin tin to buy, because nothing de-stresses me like baking muffins. 
• Dryers! You don't know what you got til it's gone...
• Ultimate Frisbee, which gives me an automatic community of cool people no matter where I go, and gave me the opportunity to play in Nationals next weekend which is ridiculously cool.
• I'm thankful for my amazing, caring support system at home.  You know who you are. 
• The once-in-a-lifetime opportunity I've been given to study at Oxford.  I need to do a better job of not taking it for granted and using this opportunity for good.
• Beautiful fall weather that we've had since I got here.  

And so many other things.  Happy Thanksgiving to everyone around the world.  

Lisa 

Bill Clinton's Ghost and Regatta #1

Dear Bill Clinton, our ghost tour guide would like it if you would please become an Oxford ghost.  You have a connection to the area, and you don't even have to be dead according to him.  All you need is an energy disturbance, so just get angry or guilty or something and c'mon over, let some drunken students sight your specter, and join the haunting ranks of King Charles, Archbishop Cranmer (burned alive in the city center), the wife of the lover of Elizabeth, various Oxford professors and some Generals.  Cheers.

Oxford Ghost Tour last night! A two-hour extravagant look at the history of Oxford and the specters that haunt it, led by an real creepy member of the British Ghost Society who had been hunting ghosts for the last two years with his daughter.

What did we learn?

• Ghosts like to haunt libraries.  Merton College and Queen's College, watch out your libraries are quite haunted. Also the old Bodleian library is haunted by King Charles because he got his fortune told there and didn't like what it said.

• The most well-known ghost is William Spooner (famous for Spoonerisms), a quite friendly ghost who haunts the first floor of New College and mixes up the first letters of words. 
• Queen's Lane used to be used as a hospital because no one could hear the screams of agony.  It is now much creepier to walk down. 
• The King's Arms claims to be the first place where Hamlet was performed? How interesting!  Also the statue heads outside the Sheldonian are also inhabited:  they laugh at Jude the Obscure in the book.

Anyways, we also had our first regatta today! Check "Row a Regatta" off life to-do list!

It was a learning experience.  We learned a lot about how hard it is to row quickly and stay in time, and how much more practice we have to do before our next regatta in 2 weeks.  On the bright side, it was fun and nice to get first-regatta jitters out of the way.  Plus it was gorgeous outside, as you can see. 

This week marks the debut of the first ever St. Hilda's Ultimate Frisbee team, called the Hildabeasts, which we're putting together.  Also it will mark the start of me putting together my plan for my dissertation, which will be not as fun as captaining the Hildabeasts.  

In other news, I have now learned that converting Fahrenheit to Celsius is necessary when using the oven.  Those practical skills they don't teach you in University. Sigh. 

Cheerio!

Lisa 

Frisbee in Shakespeare Country / Burning Guy Fawkes

Hola!

Disclaimer: The first half of this post will be about Ultimate Frisbee.  If you don't like Ultimate (crazy) / think it's not a real sport (clearly haven't played) / confuse it with Disc Golf (just wrong), jump to the second half which is about burning a 50-foot tall wooden man in a park.

Just got back from my first Ultimate Frisbee tournament in Europe!  Oxford sent a 9-person team to Mixed Indoor Regionals; 5 guys, 4 girls, half of whom had never played together.

They play five to a side on a much smaller field than in the U.S. (about gym-sized), which makes for a totally different tactical game.  Lots of trick throws, hammers, and blades; really precise throws because the end zone is so short.  It favors players with quick acceleration and good defensive skills.  I had to adjust to cutting on such a small space also; it's easy to overlap cuts and deep cuts have to be timed really well to be successful since the end zone's so small.  Zone defense, clam defense and iso offensive strategies are seen a lot, but obviously set up differently with only five.  A common one was to send two people to the end zone and let them hang there while the other 3 worked the disc down the field.

There were 4 bids to D1 Nationals. We won 4 games straight on Saturday, finishing in a rousing win against arch-rivals Cambridge.  Sunday we lost the first game, which meant we had to win the next three to make it to D1. WHICH WE DID! Skilled but still fun-centered team; I had a blast. Plus we took the Spirit Award! Which apparently means I have a medal waiting for me.  I get to play in Nationals! Eee!

Other interesting Ultimate differences: They don't provide food but they do provide accommodation for tournaments (Church floors; why doesn't the U.S. do this?). Indoor games are only 23 minutes long but really fast-paced. They call Ninja, other games etc. "calls" and playing savage is playing "Iron Man." Both teams meet in a circle after each game and each captain gives a short speech about the game.  And they do disc races with straws?! Wimps, I know. Also I'd have to say, judging from my limited experience my U.S. Ultimate friends would definitely out-drink the U.K. ones. We'll see if that prevails throughout the year.

Okay, now onto things non-Ultimate players will find more interesting...

So, as you may or may not have realized, Saturday was the 5th of November.  Remember, remember the 5th of November? While everyone in the U.K. does, because....

It's like the 4th of July.  No joke. Commemorating the day that Guy Fawkes failed to blow up Parliament results in a fair-like celebration with fatty food stands, live music, seas of people, fireworks, aaaaaandddd... A HUGE BONFIRE.  HUGE.

We drove back from Regionals Sat night to go to the Oxford celebration of Guy Fawkes day. Walk into the park at 6 p.m. (it's dark out) and see hundreds of people in the dark, fatty food stands, music, a HUGE wooden man structure ~50 feet tall.  Apparently this used to represent Guy Fawkes but the Catholics protested and now it represents the Devil.



Terrifying, right? Look at those teeth! Now imagine them looming 50 feet above you. And then there's some fire dancing all voodoo-style, the Fireworks go off, and then they burn wicker man.  Just torch the entire thing along with a huge bonfire in the background.  It ends up looking something like this...



Topping my list of ridiculous traditions I've seen here in the U.K. HUGE. SO BIG. Biggest fire I've definitely ever seen. I will post better pictures of wicker man on fire once my friend uploads them.

This week: less work (thank goodness, I had 14 extra hours of class last week, ugh).  And a regatta (crew race) next Sunday?  Stay tuned!

LP

Then Life Got Crazy

Long time no write!

My bad. Turns out grad school is indeed quite a busy place to be, and I got really, really sick last week (flu).  But I haven't had any therapeutic writing spree in much too long, so here's a round up of last week's events:

1.  HallowQueen.  Dear Kalamazoo College: Imagine Crystal Ball, but with graduate students who have more money to spend on costumes.  HallowQueen was Oxford's graduate bop (translation: school-sponsored event with a house party feel) for the weekend, which involved everyone cross-dressing.  And man, did those male Master's and PhD students strut their stuff.  Heels, wigs, tights, dresses; elaborate makeup. Jaw-dropping. I even saw a dead ringer for Amy Winehouse.

I also have this theory that you give a man a dress and heels and he will protest and protect his manhood... until he takes a drink or two and then immediately reverts to their alter-ego personality which usually embodies a strutting, bitchy, lewd dancing woman. I've never seen so many sashaying male hips and booty shaking I wouldn't want my mom to see. Watching the dance floor was one of the most entertaining? disturbing? oddly engrossing? things I've seen in awhile.

Not what I was expecting from a fairly traditionalist university. Nice work Oxford males. My favorite image was the guy in makeup and short-shorts skateboarding away into the night through the ancient Gothic buildings of Oxford. Poetic.

2.  Internship! I started working at Nominet Trust last week.  Nominet manages all of the domain names in the U.K., and Nominet Trust gives huge grants to Internet-related projects that increase Internet access, safety, and engagement for at-risk youth (among other populations).  Bright side: wealth of information! Enthusiastic people! Downside: Not reaaally sure what I'm exactly doing yet.  Working on that.

3. Rowing:  We rowed all 8 people at once today!  At 6 a.m. in the morning.  Whooof that's early.  We have a regatta in 3 weeks already which is terrifying.  I have learned how to feather the blade (turn the blade flat when it's out of the water) but we're still rocking the boat all over when we row, which serves as good entertainment for the well-refined rowers who are out at the same time as us.  Luckily there are other similarly struggling novices.

sidenote I find that when I have to wake up that early in the morning, I start dreaming that I didn't wake up in time and then something awful happened... and then my alarm will go off and I'll be unsure whether dream or real world is true.  This morning I woke up in the middle of a dream that involved me missing rowing and then a zombie attack. Huh?  I had to spend a couple of minutes sorting my life out.

4.  Just so you know I do them schools:  We had an 8-hour essay on Sunday.  Got the writing prompt at 9, and then had to hand it in at 5. We had to critique a research paper in learning and technology. I hate to admit this, but although it was stressful and hectic I really enjoyed it.  It was a strange time frame to have to produce a polished work in, but it was good to practice quick critical thinking and outlining points, which I'm sure is applicable in the real world.

In other news, I think I will start attempting to say "keen" more often.  It's a big thing here.  I did catch myself using "mate" the other day.  Oh gosh.  My brother is going to mock the crap out of me.

Frisbee mixed regionals this weekend! The notion of this is keeping me alive through my crazy-hectic week (for some reason my program doubled the number of classes this week... who does that). Cheerio!

Lisa

P.S. Hermione sighting update (because, let's be serious, that's all anyone's interested in really):  My roommate saw her again at a lecture at the Oxford Union, but suspects she was with her boyfriend. Other sightings have been at restaurants and walking around. Lots of debate about whether she'd give out her phone number to a potential flirty male.

Hooliganism and Losing the Melk

I just got back from watching "Love Actually" at our Mexican Night Sunday potluck.  It's a different movie to watch with mostly non-Americans. Despite being a harmless rom-com, it slips in the American president as a womanizing bully and American women as loose Wisconsin sorority girls who go gaga for British accents.  Everyone had lots of fun with this. And it's a tad bit hard to defend one's country when retrospectively it's easy to see that's how we might be portrayed. I mean, let's be serious, we do swoon for British accents.

[Sidenote: did you know Hugh Grant went to Oxford? Apparently he comes back sometimes and goes to the bar and buys "obscene amounts of alcohol" for every student there, according to one of our orientation speakers.]

We've set up a Sunday potluck-style meal every week since the term started, hosted by one of the Hilda's Hooligans, our rogue not-so-secret posse of fresher grad students at St. Hilda's from all over the world. We created the group mainly so we could all contact each other, but it's blossomed into a full-fledged cult-like entity full of shenanigans, great conversations, and amazing interesting friends.  I look forward to Sundays every week. Next goal: steal a deer from rival-across-river Magdalen College (they have a deer park).

I've found myself not attempting the English accent so much (I can't quite pull off the Kate Winslet level yet, which is of course what I'm aspiring to), but rather I'm much more conscious of my Michigan accent. Particularly I've been losing the Michigan vowels:

• Michigan A - sharp sound, like aee-pple or aaaax-ccent, contrast with British ah-pple
• Michigan O - saying "fer" instead of "for." This is the most common one for me to change.
• Michigan I - Milk = Melk. Why, Michigan, why?

These sound ridiculous when compared to the deep vowel sounds of British English. I know I should be proud of my Michigander talk but really, I'm not so sad to see the accent go. At least then when I speak, everyone knows I'm not British, but not everyone knows the exact location of the States I'm from. Even other U.S.ers mock me when I say melk.

After last weekend's matriculation madness, finally I've had a school-filled weekend. A true 'Welcome to Oxford.' Okay, an almost-school-filled weekend, except for all that Ultimate Frisbee I played. In shorts and a t-shirt! In October! Twas brilliant.

In more important news, I've confirmed that "spooning" is indeed a universal term. Who knew!

Oxford is celebrating Halloween with a University-wide... cross-dressing party? Should be interesting. I also hope to go to London next weekend, stay tuned! Also I will update about the Hilda's Crest which has seahorse-unicorns on it. Toodaloo, Lisa

Less Potatoes, More Globalism

Good morning, TGIF! My day is packed with a lot of reading and errand running and some French class, but here is a quick snippet of my week...

Tuesday 6:30 a.m.  Do you know how disconcerting it is to bike to the boat house without being able to see the ground?  It feels eerily as if you're defying the laws of gravity or friction; you're floating across the world like a specter.

Rowers are a particularly admirable breed. Not only do they practice on (cold) water, in darkness and (freezing) wind, but they voluntarily get out of their nice warm bed to do so.  And you get some really cold hands. It is surprising that I find rowing more mentally than physically exhausting.  There are so many things to think about with the motion....not the least of which is making sure you don't tip the boat over by shifting your balance (a real difficulty!).

Wednesday I could have attended a really-interesting extra seminar or presentation every day this week. The best and worst thing about Oxford is the amazing amount of events going on.  How do you decide? What if you miss one that could have potentially shaped your research, or radically changed your views?

Wednesday Formal Dinner Dear St. Hilda's, I am very very sick of potatoes. I have yet to see a meal served without them.  I am forwarding you the New England Journal of Medicine study that said that potatoes were the number one food making us obese.

Thursday Netball is... interesting. The game comes to a standstill every time someone tries to shoot the ball, since only two players are allowed on each team in the shooting area.  I was the only American playing and lots of the Brits have played since grade school.  Why do only females play it? Do we even have a sport that only females play in the U.S.? Is it like the softball-baseball divide? What did the guys play while the women played netball in school?

Friday I. Need. To. Get. To. London.  It's only a hour and a half away, this is embarrassing.  I get to play an Ultimate Frisbee hat tournament tomorrow!  And I am nervous about my French class today.  I got into the fast-paced beginner class, and now I'm bemoaning the lack of language learning I've done in the past three years. Plus I pronounce all French words like Spanish words, which is not ideal.  But I will not perpetuate the trend of everyone learning our language while we make no effort to learn others. Global citizenship! 

Au revoir, LP

And Then There Was a Scepter?

Happy Monday! We're winding down from a rather eventful weekend over here, where I matriculated and went on some real nerdy excursions.  My two cents on the ridiculousness:

1.  The Outfit
     Some grey-haired long-bearded wrinkly men and matronly women (how I picture the Oxford Trustees) are probably cackling at the robes they make the students wear for Matriculation.  Let's give them streamers (alternate name: tentacles) instead of sleeves!  And make the men wear white bow ties and the women silly ribbons.  Garroff garroff (old person laughing sound). We'll just call it "tradition."  Don't they look silly.

2.  Matriculated And It Feels So Good
      They make the whole fresher population dress up for a 10 minute ceremony? Highlights: a large scepter was brought in by a spitting image of Professor Trelawney from Harry Potter.  A guy pompously bowed before the vice chancellor. Some Latin was spoken.  The wand was waved.  Haha, just kidding, or am I? (see you don't know what to think, do you, it's Oxford).

3.  Harry Potter Mania
       John Locke is buried in Christ Church.  JOHN LOCKE. THE FOUNDER OF LIBERALISM. And y'all tourists are rushing next door to see the dining hall where Harry Potter was filmed? Really? The Christ Church dining hall actually doesn't look much like it did in the films, but it is equally as spooky. There are these huge portraits of famous Christ Church alumni (William Penn, John Wesley, Einstein, etc.) on the walls, looming down over the dinner tables, whispering Be Someone, you fools! to the poor undergraduates. On the bright side I did get a nice photo in my robes in the Harry Potter Dining Hall. Hehe.

4.  Middle Earth NerdFest 2011
       I'm not sure I've ever done anything more nerdy than the two-hour Tolkien Tour around Oxford.  We saw the outside of this one house where he lived for two years. And then there was this spot where he said something once about. We did see the door of the house where he died in.  And the tree that inspired the Ents! And the window of the room where C.S. Lewis studied. Important stuff.  But we did learn a lot of bonkers Oxford traditions...

5. Duck Lore
       Every 100 years, the renowned fellows of All Souls College chase a duck around Oxford? Apparently, this is because when they were building All Souls, there was a duck that flew out of the foundation, and they said "Hey, let's make a tradition." Don't believe me? Unfortunately this happened 10 years ago, so unless I contend for the oldest women alive I will never get to see it.
       We also saw the Merton College Courtyard where they walk backwards once a year to counteract the space-time continuum, and learned about "Beating the Bounds," where small children are beaten with sticks at markers that designate the boundaries of the four parishes in Oxford (okay, nowadays they're not beaten, the kids instead beat the walls with sticks, because that makes more sense. We get to watch. There's beer).
      We've decided as a St. Hilda's group that we should find a bogus reason to start a tradition, because it's seemingly pretty easy over here.  The Merton Time Ceremony was invented by an American tourist in the 70's, it's possible.  Ideas?

That's all from across the pond! LP

Bicycling Elitism

A Tale of Cycling in Oxford

Act 1: Observation
Once upon a time, I brought my bike on the airplane.  I arrived at this quaint town called Oxford.  Gee, there are a lot of bikers here, I thought.  Look at them weave in-between those very, very large buses in those tiny biking lanes on those very busy streets.  Then, we went on the International Student walking tour, and our guide told us that he knew more than one biking friend who had either gotten conked on the head by a bus and hit by a car.  Nervousness descended.

Act 2: Exploration
One day, I realized that my classes were 2.1 miles away.  Biking was inevitable.  I ventured out like an adopted puppy slowly exploring its new habitat. I tiptoed around corners.  I cautiously walked my bike across streets. I more than once forgot to ride on the wrong side of the road.  I almost got ran over by a truck who forced me to jump the curb when trying to make a right turn.  I got passed by many, many other bikers on their way to class. I hate getting passed. I despaired.

Act 3: Maturation
And then, I realized something.  Bikers rule the roads in Oxford. They outnumber the buses. Just point where you're going, and the cars will defer. The police support you (as long as you have bike lights). Whizzing around a roundabout at top speed? Just stick your arm out and traffic will slow down. Want to weave in-between lanes of a traffic jam while using idling cars to steady yourself? There's already five people ahead of you doing the same thing. Fear blossomed into confidence and then into cockiness.  I bloomed into just another one of those brash Oxford bikers, who seize the roads like they're nobody's business.

I feel, however, that this three-act play may have forever ruined me for biking in the U.S., where bikers do not in fact enjoy the same level of bicycling elitism and there are not bike lanes on every street. I in fact think that if I did what I did this morning, which was ride down the center lane of traffic in the middle of town an attempt to get to the bank, I may get berated rather than begrudgingly obliged.

Until then, I will cruise the streets of Oxford with the rest of the bicycling elitists who believe that combining low-impact exercise with reducing natural resource consumption and feeling that early-morning fresh air is definitely the best way to travel.  Move over, cars.  Cheers, fellow bikers.

Row, row, row your boat

Arms, back, legs; legs, back, arms. Arms, back, legs; legs, back, arms...

First day of rowing today!  Yes it is called the "rowing club" and not crew.  We biked down to the boathouse, which is this gorgeous building on a really calm river (the Thames?) with these beautiful boats housed inside.  And then we all sat down on the rowing machines and learned the technique (see above).  It's like nothing I've ever done before, but I can tell I'm going to like the workout.  Hamstrings, quads, back, and arms all in one.  My short legs put me at a particular disadvantage, I think, since my stroke is shorter, but I will just compensate by having awesome back muscles.  Next outing is in a boat! On Friday... at 7 a.m. Welp, I knew what I was getting into when I signed up.  Should be fun for a term.

(Sidenote: my father's opinion: "Don't women who row get those huge arm muscles? How are you supposed to pick up a Duke that way?" I think he's kidding... maybe).

Anyways, and equally important I suppose, it was my first day of classes today!  I had been warned that UK universities had non-interactive lectures: the professor preaches, students listen. My classes do not fit this mold. At all. Lots of discussion. However, I do now understand the terminology of "reading for a degree" that is used at Oxford.  We have a lot less class time and a seemingly insurmountable amount of critical reading. I have to say, though, that my Political Science years prepared me perfectly for learning at Oxford, since I had to think critically about texts all the time, and it feels very natural to move back into it.

Plus, I had forgotten how much I do love having no other expectations on me than learning. Although I've been thinking about how education is very egocentric, in a way. It's focusing on one's own development exclusively for an entire year; it feels a bit selfish, sometimes, to not be applying one's talents for a greater purpose than merely developing oneself.  I suppose there is usually an end goal in mind, but still, in the short term, I'm not contributing much to society. Studying for the sake of studying is something I've witnessed a lot of lately, perhaps, and it's not what want to do. It's important, I think, to reflect on the end goal: how will your studying enable you to contribute to society? What purpose will it facilitate? An idealistic principle, I suppose, to grapple with as I start this year.

Dragging myself out of philosophical ramblings, what else is going on here...I start playing football tomorrow.  I found out the tree that inspired Tolkein's Ents is right down the street from me, how awesome is that.  I will go take a picture soon. I also taught the drinking game "Flip Cup" to some Brits on Friday and they loved it (a bit too much, perhaps).  I've just started a revolution in UK drinking games I'm fairly sure.

 Also, this weekend is Matriculation, get ready...



The official Sub fusc Lego.  Don't worry mine looks more ridiculous than that, because instead of sleeves it has these weird panels.  There. will. be. pictures.

Happy Wednesday! Lisa

House tour!

And what have I learned today? Every year, members of Merton College walk backwards around their quad wearing their robes and drinking port, in order to counteract the space-time continuum.  Uh huh.

This was just one of several ridiculous facts we learned at the MCR Initiation today. MCR = middle common room; basically the collection of graduate students at St. Hilda's.  Our MCR is very active and holds so many events that it's almost impossible to not go to some of them, so it's been a great way to meet everyone.  Anywho, a bit of a photo tour...

25a, Alma Place.  It's a three-bedroom house with a common room and a kitchen and no dryer....

View from my window. Let's talk about the logistics of drying one's clothes at Oxford.  Look at this nice, sunny view of my backyard with my laundry.  15 minutes later, it downpoured for 10 minutes, and then went back to being sunny. In fact, it's possible that Oxford is actually the worst place I can think of for drying clothes.  However, that's really  a small deal, since...

Check out my fireplace! Win! 

Anyways, I got a much better feel for my master's course this week (MSc Education - Learning and Tech) It's highly theoretically-based and highly research-based; the first term will mostly focus on theories of learning, and whether the same theories can be applied to ICT learning. I'll additionally be in an Foundations of Educational Research class, and they've emphasized that we should start thinking about out dissertation topic now.  At this point I'm playing with the idea of doing a comparative study on educational policy towards technology within Europe, but clearly that will have to be paired down quite a bit. 

The most fascinating (politically charged?) talk this week actually revolved around the question "Is Education a Discipline?" Since the study of education encapsulates study of such wide range of topics (teacher training, primary, secondary, higher education, lifelong learning, formal/informal learning, workplace training, project-based, blended learning, educational psychology, pre-K, the list goes on) without having a common founding theory, set pedagogy, and a consistent research design, it's considered a field instead of a discipline at Oxford. Why does it matter? The underlying message of the talk was that the education field is therefore viewed in a different (read: worse) way then research from the other social science disciplines who follow a set rigor and pedagogy.  The talk was essentially a warning: beware, by studying education, you're putting yourself in the midst of the fray.  

I have to say, though, I think one of the most exciting things about studying education is the breadth of topics and the intersection of all of the other social science disciplines within the field of education.  Not having a set pedagogy allows sociologists, psychologists, economists, and even political scientists (!) to take different approaches to studying the process of learning. One could also argue that there is no more important area to study for the long-term economic, social, political standing of a country than the education system. 

Emma Watson did unfortunately not come out for the Ultimate Frisbee team, but Emma, if you're out there, we'd love to have you and you'd be great.  I'm pretty sure throwing a frisbee is much like wielding a wand.

Hasta luego, Lisa

Hermione and Oxford's Real Motto

So, my flatmate bumped into Emma Watson today.  She's the subject of an unfortunate number of dinner conversations around Oxford. Overheard: she lives on campus has a bodyguard outside her room in Worchester College. She carries around pictures of her and autographs them on the spot so that she can avoid having to take so many pictures with starstruck students. Her pigeon-hole (read: mailbox) is next to a friend of a friends. She's studying English? Or is it History? All we know for sure is that she was definitely at the same Fresher's fair we were at this morning.

It has to be a bit ironic (unfortunate?), anyway, that she's going to the university that Harry Potter was modeled after.  I mean, we really do wear robes. Quite often through the year.  It made sense in the 1200's. (Oxford's unofficial official motto).

It's Orientation week! It's very strange to see things like "bar crawl" on the list of events for freshmen undergraduates.  How will they get the quintessential experience of drinking oneself silly on crappy beer in a dingy basement with 100 other underage people and then running when the cops come? It's a rite of passage in the U.S.

In an instance of "It made sense in the 1200's," graduate orientation week involves a lot of rushing between one's course events and one's college events which are seemingly completely uncoordinated.  Each student, graduate or undergraduate, is affiliated with a college, where you get housing, pay tuition, use the libraries, join the sports teams, etc (I'm at St. Hilda's College).  For undergraduates, all of their courses are taught at their college. But for graduates, all of our courses are taught at our department or faculty, and all of our social and housing activities are at our college.  And these two entities don't coordinate.  Or seemingly talk to each other. At all.  Mine (St. Hilda's and the Department of Education) are two miles away from each other, and so I've been jumping between events at both all week, most of which overlap. Why do they still do it this way? Well, it made sense in the 1200's....It drives everyone nuts.

Another "It made sense in the 1200's:" Everything is done on paper.  Account balances.  Health forms.  Which means they misplace and lose these things (they've lost both of these for me thus far). No automated system. That would mean procedures would change. Another: we take final exams in the Examination School in front of a proctor. In our robes. It's tradition.  We matriculate in a closed ceremony (wearing guess what).

I'll leave you with my favorite joke this week.  A student asked a professor, "How many Oxford professors  does it take to change a light bulb?"

The professor replied, "Change?"

Haha. ha.  Hope all is well! LP

Overusing the word "Interesting" and some Ultimate

In the last two days I've met people from: Canada, Switzerland, Belarus, Estonia, Germany, France, Ireland, Spain, England, New Zeeland, Norway, Greece, Iran, and I can't remember the rest.  The best part is they all are part of St. Hilda's (my college).  Which means I get to hear all about what they're studying and where they're from.  Too cool.

I've found that I'm introducing myself as from Michigan now, rather than from the U.S.  If I say I'm from the U.S., everyone will immediately ask the follow-up question of which state: seemingly everyone knows U.S. geography. It's ridiculous because I'm sure if they said which region they're from, there's a high probability of me not knowing it.  Sigh. Time to work on my embarrassing lack of world geography knowledge. Thank you, U.S. school system.

Anyways, next week is Naught Week (0 week). Shout out to K Collegers: they number the weeks here, too!  I'd prefer to name it Week of Death, as there are an impossible amount of orientation events I should attend.  Tomorrow I go from 9:30 to 9:00 at night.  I plan to play cricket next weekend, and there's a formal dinner on Tuesday, where I meet my advisor.  She's a psychologist who does research on whether intervention in math in elementary and middle school actually results in improved educational outcomes.  I feel like I use "interesting" every other word these days. I need some more diverse adjectives when I find out what ridiculously cool subject someone's studying or the fascinating country that they're from.

I did indeed find the Ultimate Frisbee team! I played pick-up today.  They run vert stack all the time, and rely on an influx of American Ultimate enthusiasts to fill out their squads, so I'll be playing co-ed, indoor, and womens, hopefully.  They play in gyms for indoor season rather than on astro turf. Thank you Ultimate for immediately giving me a community of cool people and a great way to get a workout wherever I go.

More after this week slows down; get ready for the upcoming "It Made Sense in the 1200's" post, and an account of harrowing biking through narrow 12th century streets while almost getting mowed down by double decker buses (this will happen tomorrow).

Cheers! (I am not sure anyone says that here; I have yet to hear it).

LP

Ah, the joys of being American...

Conundrum of the day: Every time I call soccer "soccer", I get corrected. It's football. But, if I correctly call it "football" when I'm referring to soccer, everyone isn't sure which football I'm talking about, since they see I'm American and assume I haven't switched to the European term. So they'll ask me anyway, "are you talking about American football or soccer?" Therefore I've gone back to calling it soccer, since it's more easily identifiable what I'm discussing.  Why do we call it soccer, anyway?

Anyways, yesterday we went on a walking tour and got a feel for where everything is in the city.  Oxford the city is fascinating, since the huge, imposing, walled Gothic-style university buildings are intermixed throughout the city with local shops, banks, etc.  I saw where Boyle's Law was invented; it's right down the street from me.  Christ's Church ("Hogwarts' Great Hall modeled after this church!" Really? That's what you're promoting?) is fairly close also.

I live on Cowley Road, which is on the outskirts of town and is full of ethnic food shops.  It's nice since it's a part of town that I probably wouldn't have explored had I lived in the city center.  Got a phone, got a bank account; I even braved the grocery store yesterday.

I'll leave you with the other "joys of being American" story: The other day, I was lamenting the lack of addicted morning coffee-drinkers; most of my European friends drink tea instead, and good coffee has been hard to come by.  One of my friends asked why Americans don't drink more tea; he had assumed it originated with the Tea Party (the 1773 Boston event. why has this name been reclaimed in such an awful fashion?): that Americans had held a continuing vendetta against symbolic British goods that shaped coffee drinking in the U.S.  At the time; I blew it off. But turns out he was right. The increase of coffee drinking dates back to  us avoiding British goods + a lack of availability of British tea through the start of the 1800's (thanks Wikipedia). It's always enjoyable when you find out more about your country's history from other nationalities :).  That's one of the main reasons I came to Oxford, anyway.  International perspectives are so much more interesting.

Cheers!

Lisa

Made it!

I'm heeeere!

Got off the plane at Gatwick Airport in London at 5 a.m. Michigan time. Unpacked bike. Found Canadian Oxonians who helped run bike across Gatwick airport. Ran across Gatwick trying to catch Oxford bus with careening trolley of luggage and Canadians and bike. Got to bus. Told me I had to repack bike. Fished bag out of garbage, repacked bike. Got to Oxford. Tied packed bike up illegally to get keys to apartment. Two hours later, unpacked bike on side of busy street.  Bike makes it to apartment! Don't bring bikes on airplanes.

It's International Orientation week! I've met hardly any students from the U.S. (although it is the number 1 country to send grad students here); so far it's been mostly Germans, Norwegians, Estonians, Hungarians...the list goes on.  Everyone is studying something fascinating, speaks three languages and finds American partisan politics remarkably entertaining.  I told them it's not as entertaining when it's your Congress that's being held captive by the Tea Party...

I'm staying at St. Hilda's College, which is right before the Magdalen (pronounced Maud-lin) bridge on the river Thames. Streets are tightly packed with buildings here, and the traffic is crazy, although ever street seems to have a bike lane. All the Europeans find the traffic driving on the wrong side of the street as disconcerting as I do - most of the rest of Europe drives on the right side like in the U.S. We're always looking the wrong way when we're crossing a street.

Some interesting British-isms: Restrooms are toilets. I asked for a restroom and had to restate myself at the airport. We're all "Freshers," commercials are "adverts," and we're all going to go "Punting," which means to push yourself down a river with a pole in a boat. We're currently all trying to figure out how we're going to buy our "Sub-fusc" clothing for Matriculation, which involves wearing dark skirt, white blouse, black ribbon-tie, academic robes, and mortar board for women. Men have to wear white bow ties. It's going to look absurd.  I'll take pictures.

So much to do! I was homesick yesterday but am doing better today. More later.

Lisa

Off to London...

Hi all!

I'm currently sitting in the Toronto airport (reasons Canada > U.S. = better tickets to London), where my parents dumped me off at about 1:30. We just spent two days as exploring Toronto as a last-weekend-on-the-continent vacation.  Already had embarrassing public breakdown, ate some pretzels, got over breakdown, check, check, check.

Currently, the adventurous part of the journey will be getting from Gatwick Airport to Oxford (2.5 hours away).  Plus side: there's a bus! Down side: I'm carrying one roller suitcase, one backpacking backpack, one regular backpack, a purse, and.... a bike.  And I may have packed my luggage up to the weight limit. Somehow I will walk through customs with all of this stuff, and then walk from the Oxford bus stop to my new apartment with all of this stuff, which is a hike.  I am trying to remind myself that I love exercise and arm workouts and looking publicly awkward and such.

Anyways, here's a short convenient bullet list of what I'm doing in England:

• I'm in the Master's of Education (Learning and Technology) Programme at Oxford University
• It's a one-year program, with a dissertation due next July
• I am in St. Hilda's College at Oxford, and have a three-bedroom apartment through the college.
• Oxford is about a 30 minute train ride from London. 
• There are two tea breaks scheduled into my first day of orientation. Two! (insert incredulous expression). 
• Yes, they have an ultimate frisbee team.  I know you were wondering that. 

Questions?

I get to London at 10 tomorrow morning, which is 5 a.m. Michigan time.  Nothing like sleep-walking through customs, right? I have orientation starting on Thursday. I'm going to try to update this blog regularly, which shouldn't be real hard since I've been writing-deprived for a year.  Will post pictures when I get there.  Miss you all!

Lisa