Frisbee Blues, Torpids, Pancakes, and Fancy Schmancy

I'm sitting here still in bed in the aftermath of a frisbee-filled day and night, still wearing my OW kit and contemplating a hangover run. The usual roundup of exciting things in Oxford this week:

1. Light Blue v. Dark Blue
Remember when we went to Frisbee NATIONALS? You know what's more important, taken more seriously than the British National competition? Beating rivals Cambridge, of course.

Background on OX-CAMB sports Every year, the Light Blues (Cambridge) play the Dark Blues (Oxford) in every sport imaginable around this time in what they call Varsity.  Playing in Varsity makes you eligible for a Blue, which as far as I can tell is essentially a cool status symbol: a designation recognizing your accomplishments as an athlete. Everyone takes getting a Blue very seriously here. The list of competitions is here. The uni that takes the most competitions "wins" Varsity 2012.

Most of the competitions take place these next two weekends, and both men's and women's Ultimate Frisbee played yesterday!  We play both indoor and outdoor matches, and you couldn't have asked for a better day to do so.  It's February and we're playing in shorts and t-shirts in beautiful sunlight.  Didn't Michigan just get another round of snow?  (snicker)

However, despite all our February photosynthesizing energy absorbtion, the women lost.  I was actually captaining since our normal captain was off playing for Great Britain Frisbee (!), and we spent the last week recruiting enough players to play outdoors.  But the men's team took home the glory for Oxford for the 3rd year running. And then the night ended in me doing a disc race. If you don't know what a disc race is, don't worry, you don't need to.  If you do and you know me at all, you should be phenomenally impressed with me right now, and understand more fully why I'm still in bed with the lights off.

2.  TORPIDS
Also this week was the term's boat races between the different Oxford colleges.  The idea of Torpids is that all the boats line up in a line to start, and you try to bump into the boat in front of you before the boat behind you bumps you. If you bump someone, you move up a spot in rankings. The race takes place over 4 days, and if you "bump" someone every day, you get yet another Oxford status symbol called Blades (they like those here). It kind of works like constant power rankings; teams that are under-ranked should be able to bump a boat every day and move up in the rankings. Check out the cool chart of where the boats ended up, and check out all of those boats in the race! So many!

All the videos are online.  I think now that I've tried rowing I really appreciate it more; it's really hard to have everyone stay in time, AND keep the boat level, AND keep rowing hard for such a long time (hey, 5-7 minutes is really long in rowing), all while your cox is shouting at you.  Coxes have a tough job also to recognize how to take the turns and keep from going into the bank.  One boat crashed the bank so hard that one of the rowers was thrown out, and another crashed in the gut (the start) and broke their boat. 10-14,000 pound boats (dear Americans, that's a monetary amount not a weight measurement), as a frame of reference.

3.  Shrove Tuesday
Instead of eating fattening donuts on Fat Tuesday, the Brits eat pancakes.  But let me clarify.  A pancake is not a pancake.  In England a pancake is a crepe.  But the Brits get mad when I say that too; apparently a pancake is a smaller version of a crepe. Looks like a crepe in my book.  And they eat them not with butter and syrup but with sugar and lemon, which I guess is just not fattening enough for my American taste buds because I thought it was rather bland. Yes I tried it so now I can effectively mock it.

4.  Exchange dinners!
So, what do Oxford students do for fun? Mostly dress up and eat 4-course meals. Woooo, Party Central here. I will never understand why the dressing up part is enjoyable. Fancy clothes are uncomfortable for both sexes (I assume)! Why would college students who don't have to wear them continually subject themselves to doing so!   You have the rest of your working life to do that! The way it works is through exchange dinners, where you invite another Oxford college (see here) to your college to eat, and then you get to go eat at their college where you dress up and schmooze and spill wine on your (or other people's) nice clothes. I really wish they made us wear funny-looking hats to get the true British experience, but they do make us wear our sub-fusc robes to add to the ridiculousness.  Sigh. Despite my mockery, next week I'll go on my 6th exchange dinner this term. It is cool to see the other colleges and their dining halls (think Harry Potter, seriously).

TTFN.  Hope your Sunday is filled with less essay-writing than mine will be.  - LP

Wikipedia-ing & US v. UK Academia

Just got back from a lovely round of frisbee-in-torrential-rain.  I suppose I'd better get used to it.  Apparently it's sunny here... in June.

I find myself accidentally using British terminology when I talk to people from home.  I've absorbed it without even thinking.  The following gets giggles from my U.S. friends:

• Uni  (what you call university)
• Kit (it's what you call your uniform or jersey for sports). 
• Pitch (it's a sports field not a baseball throw)
• Keen (I'm keen to go out tonight) and Fancy (Do you fancy a drink?)
• Laters/ Lols (pronounced lahls) (Okay. I don't say this. But Brits do and if I did I would get giggles from my U.S. friends).

Anyways, the big news from this week was that I got sick (again, gosh darn foreign germs) and that I got to meet Jimmy Wales! Who, for anyone who lives under a rock, is the founder of Wikipedia.  I'm helping out with a study comparing Wikipedia to Britannica, and he came to Oxford to meet the research team.  

It was quite exciting because it was a small group of people.  He dresses in what I will deem Steve Jobs style: glasses, black turtleneck, and was surprisingly conversational. It's always a bit intimidating to be in a room with someone whose more or less a level of celebrity with our generation, particularly when he's the focus of attention of everyone in the room, but I decided to just go for the bravado approach and introduced myself fairly early on.

He was a very friendly guy, given that he must attend about 20 of these types of luncheons a month. I chatted with him about the Wikipedia blackout (he wanted to see the effect on journalism because he hears all these reports from journalists about how they use Wikipedia to ask intelligent interview questions; he wondered if there were a lot of stupid questions in journalism that day) and about how time-consuming email was. Apparently he's friends with the founder of Amazon, and the founder of Amazon's motto is: "If I don't answer your email within 10 minutes, I won't answer at all".. essentially saying that if it doesn't capture his immediate attention he doesn't care. Approach worth thinking about.  He has no qualms about talking about the limits of Wikipedia.  

Yes, one person did call him Jimbo to his face. I had real trouble stifling a laugh into a cough.

Anyways, since I've been studying more or less these last two weeks, I thought it would be interesting for everyone from home to get a kind of inside sociological look of academia at Oxford, told from a U.S. perspective.   

Difference 1: Specialization v. Liberal Arts. In the U.S., most colleges require a broad range of subjects (example here), partially I assume an acknowledgement of the need for a flexible workforce in today's society.  The U.K. takes the opposite approach.  You pick your subject area at age 16ish and stick with it. They spend only three years in college rather than four (or five or six). Considering I believe in liberal arts I have trouble arguing effectively for the British approach, but I will say it offers a much more streamlined path into a career, and gets rid of the quintessential problem in the U.S. of freshmen puttering away/partying/ wasting money for a year before they have any idea what they're doing.

2: The Student Definition. In Oxford, you're defined as a student. Very few students hold jobs during term time. Very few work over Christmas break. I felt like I was always searching for the next employment opportunity in the U.S. during college. Someone once pointed out that that might be a symptom of going to an Ivy-league school rather than emblematic of the U.K.  But I do think there is a more cultural emphasis in the U.S. on getting work experience while in school (illustrates multitasking and time management skills; the "soft skills" needed for post-grad employment), and also  more need to work during the school year to compensate for high tuition costs. It will be interesting to see whether the 300% tuition hike starting next year in the U.K. will see a subsequent boom in the part-time student job market here out of necessity.

3: The Formative-Summative approach: In the U.S., you could have 15-20 assignments or more in one class in one semester, all being worth fractions of your grade. At Oxford, you're evaluated very few times during the year. Rather, you get lots of formative assignments that don't count for credit, but give you valuable feedback on how to approach the assignments that do count (summative).  Summative assignments might be given out once a year and your entire "grade" is resting on them. I really like this approach; it lets you experiment a bit and see what's kosher and what's not without it impacting your grade.

4: Down With Grade Inflation.  Gone are the days where I earned 105% in a class.  Extra credit? Not a concept.  Whereas in the U.S. an A is a 93-100  and frequently one can get above that, here the highest pass is an 80+, which our orientation guide told us was "Newton-level" (he used the same grading system, how weird is that to think about; our grades are compared to some of the best historical figures of all time).

Whew. This post is long enough. Next up, social life at Oxford, through a sociological lens!

Toodle-oo,  Lisa

Snow Place Like Home

Hiya,  (people say that here)

I just got back from a wandering run: one of those runs where you start out with no route in mind and no specific distance intended and just run until you feel fulfilled (nod to Jenna my college running buddy).  I love noticing the world at the pace of running.  I began to think that I've never been anywhere quite like Britain in the winter.  I think we in the U.S. tend to think of British countryside as fairly normal and nondescript, but in fact it's quite unique. Running through British countryside is like running through a painting. Nowhere I've been in the U.S. would have quite the same still, glass-like rivers, seemingly rising almost ground level, fields jotting right up to the edge of them.  It's as neat and carefully traced as a map would be: blue line cutting through green area, no banks for the rivers, one is tempted to take one step and walk from the grass right out onto their gleaming still surfaces. Vast still fields, coated horses quietly munching; everything seems frozen in peaceful silence. Sparse rows of smaller trees criss-cross the vast plains and edge the rivers; it reminds me a bit of Kentucky countryside, but then there are no hills here. Although the trees have lost many of their leaves, some still retain some resilient green plumage; it's not quite as grey as Michigan, but still feels that quiet and dead that winter always conjures up in my mind. It's lovely in its own unique way.    

Snow. I looked out the window of my bedroom last weekend and felt a strange warmth at seeing the spattering of white flakes. Strange delight indeed; in fact it was the first time in a long time that I was actually happy to see snow. It was comforting. It was home. For a brief moment, I was back in Michigan. I went outside and caught some snowflakes on my tongue. It's times like this when you realize that even the most amazing adventures in life can still be accompanied by the occasional yearning for the familiar.

Oxford itself is enchanting in the snow. Gothic buildings look that much more beautiful with a covering of white.  The City of Dreaming Spires indeed.

It does bring up the difficulty for me of how to get to class.  I live about two miles away from class via walking; 2.2 miles away via biking. I usually bike; walking for 30 minutes in chilling cold is not my favorite way to spend my 9 a.m.  However, Martin the road bike would not do snow well, which means next week I will spend much more time getting to class than I would wish to.

Side note One of the most annoying things about living here is the fact that Brits don't have rules governing how to pass someone when walking/running on the sidewalk.  Example: if you're walking towards someone in the U.S., you'd always go to the right side of the path (mirroring the cars).  In the U.K., there's no unsaid rule governing walking procedures.  Happens way too many times where you do a kind of face-off awkward dance to get around someone. Really, this is much more annoying than it sounds right now when I'm writing it on a blog.

Anyways, exciting things I've done this week include:  Oxford Uni Women's Ultimate Makes it to Indoor Nationals by Placing 4th in Regionals!  Particularly exciting due to its unexpectedness. We had two girls new to the sport, two girls who had started playing within the last four months, three girls who had never played a tournament in the U.K., and one (rather key) player for Great Britain. And me. By all logical and objective analysis, we should not have placed well. But we had a game plan that we executed brilliantly. The last three games we won a game to take 6th place (of 12), and then won the game for 5th against Birmingham, and then for 4th against Haze, qualifying us for nationals.  Seven games of frisbee in one day where I played almost every point.  Glorious.

I also have an up-and-running plan for my dissertation, which was truly the success of the week.  I might write about sometime.  No globetrotting for a bit here though, as I've started my series of summative essays (the only marks that count for my course for the year).

I could write more but this post is getting long. One last thing is to my grandparents who I know are reading this: Grandpa and Grandma, your thank-you cards warmed my heart.  They were just lovely to get and are now sitting on my desk. I wish it was culturally acceptable to write thank-you cards for thank-you cards, that's how much I appreciated them.  I've told Mom that I will call from England when she is there soon; send my love to the family in Minnesota.

Take time to appreciate the little things.  Lisa

Dead Kings and Incorrectly Intoned Questions

Happy Friday!

Typical Friday at Oxford: I'm tired but have tons to do. It's beautiful out. I don't want to read about the facets of digital divides. I have this thing where I hate feeling like I'm not being productive for even a half hour, so to feel productive I fill my time doing mindless minor tasks which alleviates the feeling of non-productivity but is really not contributing to anything. Such as: go swim. Email mom. Make list of groceries. Write blog. [recent examples]

So, in the spirit of being "productive," a recap of this week!

Dead Kings Galore   Yesterday I went to the "Learning Without Frontiers" conference in London, and then got out of the conference early and decided to attempt to navigate around London without a map.  It worked well because all of the London police have smart phones, so I just went from smart phone to smart phone and played the "I'm a foolish blonde American" card (reserved for only the most necessary of circumstances).

Newton's grave. 

Ended up inside Westminster Abbey.  JAW DROP.  I did the entire audio tour plus some.  It was incredible. Walk in and you see the high alter where kings were crowned (and yes, where Will&Kate were wed).  Turn left and you'll see the tombs of famous king after king after king (and queen). Go straight and you'll see Poet's Corner, with memorials / tombs of Chaucer, Bronte, Austin, Shakespeare, Carroll, Dickens, etc. (the list goes on and on and on).  JAW DROP.  Handel's tomb. Graves of Newton and Darwin. Shivers all around.  I stayed there for like 3 hours.  And now I will be reading a full history of England so I can feel like I more fully appreciate what I just saw (what did Henry VII do, again?).


Tower Climbing And then today I got to climb up the tallest tower in Oxford, Magdalen (Maud-lin) Tower, seen in the picture.  This was particularly exciting because you need a signed letter from a fellow of Magdalen dated on the day you're planning to go up to be able to get the key to this tower, and you had to use this huge key to unlock this ancient grandiose door. Small narrow winding steep staircase up one of the spires, and you got to stand in the open air on top and realize what a long way down it was.  Not for the faint of heart.  But the view was breathtaking. We decided that we should have had a frisbee-throwing competition off the tower. Not sure the fellows would approve. Next time. Pictures soon.

[Found productivity.  One day time lapse. Fast-forward to Saturday.]

And then on Friday night I went dancing at a shady club, which is hard to avoid in Oxford since all of the clubs are shady. I swear, one of the most disconcerting things Brits say is "Are you alright?" What they mean is "How are you?", but what Americans like me hear is "Are you sick/hurt/going to die?"  In the U.S., it's only a phrase you use if someone's injured or very obviously distressed.  So I always look visibly panicked/confused if someone asks me this (do I look upset? is there something wrong with my face?) and I still don't know the correct way this conversation should take place. Are you supposed to just say "yes"?  Are you supposed to comment on your mental health?

Anyways, one of my American friends had one of her American friends visiting, and he noticed also that  us Americans have changed the intonation of how we ask questions.  For instance, if someone was to ask "Are you alright?" in the U.S., your voice would go up a couple of pitches at the end of the question: "Are you alright?" In the U.K. it's the exact opposite.  Your voice starts high and goes low.  And now I do it the British way, apparently according to American who noticed it immediately. I was stoked [translation for non-U.S.: real excited].  That kind of counts as picking up the accent, right?! It's kinda sing-songy though, I can't wait to be mocked when I go home.

Anyways, and now suddenly it's Saturday and I'm dead tired from dancing last night and then outdoor frisbee practice today. Time to go drink some tea (yes, I've started liking tea) and read, read, read, if I can keep my eyes open.

Next week: Put your sociology hat on for a sociological look at Impatient Americans! I've been meaning to write about this particular cross-cultural difference that has become blatantly obvious for awhile.  It does not necessarily reflect bad on the U.S., I suppose...but maybe a bit.

Hasta luego! Au revoir! Lisa

Happy Hilary Term! And the Vulcan Michigander greeting

It's a Sunday and I'm in this frantic push to feel on top of my readings.  I've been reading almost all day.  I've read about educational neuroscience, about international education policy trends, about gender differences in perceptions of video games in Taiwan, about sampling methods, about ICT in Chilean socio-economic classes...

And I'm still. not. on. top. of. my. readings! Welcome to Hilary term!

Background on Oxford terms: So, Oxford operates under the trimester system much like my lovely alma mater.  Terms are 8 weeks long, with usually papers for graduates due in 9th week.  We are currently in Hilary term, casually referred to as Hellary Term. I'm not exactly sure why it's so distinctly busier than Michaelmas Term (in the fall).  Possibly because of the whole dissertation looming over our graduate heads.  Possibly because, for most Oxford graduates, it's the last term with classes, before we start Trinity Term which is entirely devoted to our dissertations. And our professors are trying to stuff everything possible into 8 weeks while they still have us.

Possibly because it's like graduating from Kalamazoo College all over again.  There's a huge paper to write, I need to job shop, I've already involved myself in two extra classes (bonjour!) and the usual sports. Plus our MCR (middle common room; the group of graduates at our college) is quite literally over-active.  We've had events every day for the past five days or so.

On the bright side, I love being frantically busy, so who can complain?

We had a lovely international pot luck on Friday where we were supposed to bring an authentic dish from our respective country. I found this quite challenging in the U.S., where we generally steal other food from other countries and then Americanize it (cough TexMex cough). But I did indeed succeed.  Puppy chow!  No one outside the Americans knew what it was; all of the Americans definitely knew what it was.  And plus it emblemized (why is this not a verb? fine. exemplified) American food so well.  Sugar, chocolate, fat, starch.  Check check check. On a side note, many non-US Oxonians suggested we should deep fry something already deep fried, which would emblemize what they thought US food was like. Ouch.  Thank you McDonalds.

I really don't think the Brits can talk though. Quirks of being in Britain: Second Desserts.
Oh hey, your stomach is about to burst because you've just finished this three course meal including dessert  at formal dinner? Let's all go eat some more at Second Desserts. Fine cheese, crackers, and this awful, awful drink called Port, which I found is thus named because it is from Portugal, and is a super concentrated sweet red wine that is not delicious but is part of Second Desserts so you must drink it.  We had a formal exchange dinner with Mansfield College (one of the other colleges at Oxford) on Wednesday, had Second Desserts.  Happens every time. I'm not sure why.

I am still playing Ultimate Frisbee here and I played for the first time ever in shorts in January.  I keep forgetting that it's not really winter here (it's chilly, but not COLD) and over-dressing in warm clothes whenever I leave the house.  This is particularly problematic when I go running in my full winter gear and begrudgingly realize when I'm sweating through my clothes halfway through that really, I could be wearing a t-shirt. Actually, that's awesome. I love non-Michigan places.

Other things I did in the past two weeks: went to the British Education Technology show in London, which was massive and really illustrated the commercialization of education (resisting. urge. for. tangent.)  Went to the British  Museum and saw the Rosetta Stone and a bunch of other amazing (read: stolen) treasures from around the world.  And then studied, studied, studied.  I am hoping to get out of Oxford a bit more this term and sight see more often, but it's going to take a bunch of planning.

And last, but not least, I met another Michigander!  In the middle of the Mansfield exchange dinner. We stopped, held up our hands, and happily pointed out on our palms where we were from.  Everyone eyed us like we were doing our Vulcan greeting from another planet.  It was magic.

Sorry for the all-over-the-place nature of this post, but on the other hand it really exemplifies my mind these days, doesn't it. Next up: similarities and differences between UK and US education! I've been meaning to write about that! Until next time!

Sending my love across the pond,  Lisa

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.