Of Arrival, and the First Few Days

I had been waiting for my official college internet to be set up before posting an entry, but since it seems that IT guys are the same everywhere, (pasty, running out of the basement, and largely unhelpful,) that may be another day or so, and I don’t want to forget everything between now and then. 

The flight over was relatively painless.  Decent food, free wine, and a great selection of in-flight entertainment.  I happily chose the seat at the very front of economy class, so while my seat was still tiny, I had more leg room than I knew what to do with.  I slept for a few hours, but awoke at 6 AM BST (1 AM EST,) and watched the sun rise over the ocean.  Lovely, but didn’t really contribute to a feeling of being well-rested the next day.

Heathrow was oddly empty, which I realized later was due to the Icelandic volcano.  Apparently my flight was one of the last ones in; I arrived at 20 past 9, and the airport shut down at 11.  My experience, however, was completely unaffected by volcanoes or otherwise, and I made it through immigration and baggage claim with no difficulties.  I actually didn’t even have to pass through customs, as they took my word for it that I had nothing to declare. 

My friend Cassie and her friend Olivia were waiting for me outside; they had arrived two hours earlier, but had had to shuttle over from their terminal to mine in order to catch the Heathrow-Oxford express coach anyway.  We caught the coach just as it was about to leave, and sped on our way without incident.  We met a nice gentleman on the bus who had spent some time in the States, and was most interested to hear about William and Mary and to tell us about Oxford.

By the time we dragged our luggage from the bus stop to the college lodge, (which only I knew the location of, by the way; a big thank you to my mother’s endeavors on the internet to ask for assistance,) it was about 11, and we all felt as though we’d already had a 30 hour day.  Which, in all honesty, we had.  Our two orientation aides, Dean and David, met us at the lodge, and David took us to our rooms via a taxi, which was driven by the most talkative, opinionated gentleman I think I’ve ever met.  In case you weren’t aware, he informed us that all Oxford bands are “crap” and that music has gone downhill since White Snake.  It may be advantageous to note that he had a mullet.

The rest of the first day was pretty uneventful; we were all so tired that it mostly consisted of wandering the city for food and internet access to tell our families that we were alive.

I live in the Graduate Centre, which is directly on the Thames, (at this point called the Isis, I believe,) and my window looks directly out onto the river, the rear of the Christ Church Gardens, and the port of a large steamer which ferries drunken tourists and student groups along the river at all hours of the night.  There are also a large number of extremely talkative swans.  Thankfully, I am a very heavy sleeper when I want to be, so none of this bothers me in the slightest.

Much of my time has been spent in meetings, and then wandering the city.  Oxford is much more of a real city than I was anticipating.  The entire place is choked to death with buses, all from different unregulated companies in different shades of bright colors.  High, St. Aldates and Broad Streets are all covered in shops, from high end book stores to pharmacies, and cheap clothing boutiques with flimsy summer clothes.  What’s really fascinating is the mix of old and new; there’s a 300-year-old Tudor façade on the building immediately next to the Burger King.  The oldest building in Oxford, over 1,000 years, is very near to a KFC.  I’ll have you know that despite the presence of a Cadbury Crème Egg McFlurry, I have not yet even touched American fast food here.  In fact, last night the other William and Mary students and I went to our first Oxford Pub, “The Turf.”  I looked it up online, and it’s a point of pride that I was actually able to find it.  One must walk onto a tiny winding lane under the Bridge of Sighs, then turn into a shabby alley no more than two feet wide called “St. Helen’s Passage.”  (For the nerdy among us, Cassie remarked, “I feel like I’m going to Diagon Alley!)  At the end, after a turn or two, you end up at The Turf.  This is where Bill Clinton famously “did not inhale,” and also where the Prime Minister of Australia set the world record for downing a yard of ale in 11 seconds as a student.  I had the fish and chips, and a pint of the Landlord’s Favorite, and it was quite a satisfactory experience.

You can find my photos HERE, including a few that I've included in this post.  Here are just a few things I've noticed:

• Everything food related is a few degrees warmer than I’m used to.  The beer, the refrigerators; they’re just a touch less cool than I expect.  It’s not a bad thing, it’s just different. I think I actually like beer a bit better when it doesn’t hurt my teeth to drink it.

• They say “take away” rather than “take out.”  I don’t know why that struck me.

• They really do say “cheers” to everything.

• Bags are not a given in stores.  You must request one, or look awkward until they take pity and give you one.

• It’s cool.  Everyone who lives here is running around in skirts and short sleeves, and I’m only comfortable in my fleece jacket.  Oh well; it should get a few degrees warmer, and I’ll adjust.

• It’s absolutely gorgeous.  Really.  I haven’t been a place this stunning in my entire life. 

I’m not homesick, persay, but there are people and things I miss.  Nonetheless, I’m having a fantastic time so far, and I actually can’t wait for my tutorials to start.  I have my first meeting with Helena, my Victorian Literature tutor, on Thursday.  Until then, it’s free study and free time.