Of Marks, Dinners and The End

Warning: this is going to be quite a long one!
This week has been a series of wrapping things up.  On Monday I had my Principal's Collections, which are where we receive our marks for the term and have a brief (five minutes) meeting with the Principal, Dr. Reynell and the senior tutor.  The actual meeting is just an exercise in smalltalk, honestly, but I've been quite pleased with my marks all week.

Before I tell what they are, I must explain the Oxford system: while Americans subtract from 100, so an A begins at 90%, Oxford builds up from 0, so what would be an American A- begins at 65%.  They quantify their grades differently as well; rather than A, B, C, D, F, you are assigned a class of honor, and then a division within that.  The best possible grade is first class honors.  Second class honors follow that, separated into upper division, a 2:1, and lower division, a 2:2.  Apparently you can get third class honors as well, but I've never heard anyone mention it; I think it's rather shameful, and Wikipedia says less than 10% of students receive it.  That being said, these are my marks:

Shakespeare's Comedies: projected mark (since we weren't quite finished) 65-69% / 2:1 / A-
Lesbian literature: 68% / 2:1 / A-
Victorian literature: 70% / 1 / A

From what I've been led to believe by Dr. Reynell, this is quite good.  Considering that this was my only term at Oxford and I spent at least half the term just trying to figure out what they wanted of me, I feel pleased indeed with what I've accomplished. I was considerably less pleased when my father called me at 1:30 AM Oxford time to congratulate me, but I know it was meant with love.

Wednesday I finished my last tutorial with David.  I brought both of my final essays to that meeting on a whim, and luckily enough we managed to actually get through both instead of having to meet again on Thursday.  It's been strange being in Oxford with absolutely no academic requirements, but it's also incredibly nice, and I feel like I've earned it.  Though I never felt stressed in terms of time here, (I've still never pulled an all-nighter in my life, and actually never even waited to finish an essay on the day of my tutorial here,) the sheer amount of writing I had to do was weighing on me by the end.  All told, I wrote over 35,000 words in 9 weeks, which amounts to nearly 100 double-spaced pages.  After Oxford, I'm looking forward to the relative degree of slacking I'll be able to do at William and Mary!

Thursday was the Hertford College Music Society dinner, where people in choir or orchestra (pretty much mostly choir) got together and went to Las Iguanas, a latin restaurant.  There's also a tradition that the dinners are themed, and people wear costumes according to the theme.  The theme this time was "children's television."  I saw a smurf, Pippy Long-stocking, Tintin, and some characters from Dr. Who (is that really children's television?)  I, however, was Misty from the original pokemon tv series.  You can see a picture of her here, and me to the side.  I felt outrageous, but that was half the point, and it was fun.  A lot of people couldn't come, but those who did were fantastic and I enjoyed myself quite a lot.  (However, the assertion that British people don't do latin food very well is true.  It wasn't terrible, but as I've said concerning most food here: "fine, but not very exciting.")  I also did some exploring that day, but the pictures are more exciting than anything I could say about them.  "Part four" of my albums, to which I link at the bottom of this post, covers the exploration.

Friday night was the chapel dinner, which is a much more formal affair.  It's for everyone who regularly attends and contributes to chapel, primarily the choir but also those involved in the religious aspects, by invitation of the chaplain.  Seats were extremely limited this year, so I wasn't expecting to receive an invitation, but I did!  It's black tie, with drinks at the chapel beforehand and dinner in-hall with the high table after.  The seating was prearranged, so I was put into the corner farthest away from everything (I still have a vague sort of feeling that Leanne doesn't like me, but I suppose someone has to sit in the corner) and I didn't know two of the three people nearest me.  However, the conversation was excellent, the food was good, and I got to see all my friends after.  Leanne arranged a compline after dinner (which was interesting, with the drinks before and the well-stocked wine at the table.)  Compline is an evening service lit only by candlelight, done entirely in plainsong.  It's really quite lovely, and I'm glad I was able to attend one.  The picture, being one of the few I managed to take that evening, is of the chapel afterward.  After compline, a reduced group of us returned to the hall to chat and finish the wine, and it was overall a very nice end to my time with the choir.  I've made some excellent friends, and I know I'll see them again.

Early Saturday morning, which was an interesting choice following the wine consumption the night before, I departed for Bath.  There's only one direct bus a day from Oxford to Bath, and one from Bath to Oxford, so I didn't have much of a choice in my travel times.  It's a two hour ride, but the countryside is lovely, particularly once you're very near to Bath.  The hills grow and grow until you're driving along the edge of a rather steep incline, where everything is a different lush shade of green and you can see the surrounding farms and towns and villages spread out over the dips and hills.  I dreadfully wanted a picture of a certain place on the drive, but I managed to be sitting on the wrong side of the bus both ways.  Ah, well; one thing I know for sure is that I will definitely be back to the UK.

Bath itself was lovely.  The first thing I saw, right outside the Roman Baths as a matter of fact, was a man riding a 10-foot unicycle while juggling flaming torches. There was a general upswing in the quality of the street performers here, but he was absolutely the best.  He did at least two more shows while I was in town, so he's consistent as well as amazing.  There's a video here for proof: you can here my slightly hysterical reactions.  (The whole thing made me rather nervous!)



Bath itself is a very different city than Oxford.  While Oxford exudes a sense of being centuries and centuries old, Bath itself (outside the Roman Baths,) doesn't in the same way even though it's considerably older.  For some reason, the vibe I got most strongly was a lot closer to 1940s New York.  I think it was the architecture, but I'm really not sure.  It makes sense, though; Wikipedia says that much of the city was damaged or destroyed in 1942 during the war, so much of it must have been rebuilt or built new during that time period.  The Baths, however, were a different story.  It was an amazing thing to see remains of human life that are considerably pre-Christian; the temple at the Baths was dedicated to Sulis, a goddess of the Celts, and Minerva, whom the Romans identified with the other.  People who know my father will find it appropriate that I found his souvenir here.

I also visited the Bath Abbey, which has had some sort of religious activity on its site for over 1,000 years.  It's a beautiful, beautiful church, and I took the tour that allowed me all the way up to the top of the tower, including the bell-ringing chamber and behind the clock face.  The views of the scenery around Bath were lovely, and while climbing the cramped, narrow, uneven stone spiral staircase was a bit harrowing, it was definitely worth it.  Like I said before, the countryside around Bath is absolutely gorgeous, and the views are tremendous in any direction.  As usual, there are more pictures in the album, linked below.

Now that things are wrapping up, I have at least a little bit of perspective on the experience.  Coming to England has been a strange but fantastic experience for me; in a way it's better than anything I could have hoped for, because it's real, but it's also disillusioning in a very gentle way.  I think I prefer the real thing to just imagining what it might be like, anyway.  These last few days before I travel will be odd: both the regular Hertford students and the other visiting students left yesterday, but the other William and Mary students and I are here until at least Wednesday; I'm actually the first of us to leave.  Cassie and Olivia aren't even here, actually; they've gone to Paris for the weekend.  It was weird being here alone together at the beginning before we knew one other people; now that I'm used to Hertford friends and a buzzing quad, it'll be even weirder.  (Speaking of Olivia, by the way, she's an aspiring cartoonist in a contest run by the Washington post! Vote for her here!) Not for long, though: my friend Tom from home arrives sometime on Tuesday, and we depart for Rome on Wednesday.  I leave him to go to Paris by myself on Saturday, then to London Monday, and I fly home that Wednesday.  This last week and a half will be a blur.  Don't worry: you'll get at least one more blog post before I sign off from this travel blog, and probably two with a possible final summary at the end.

On a different note, I have taken an outrageous number of photos here.  Each facebook album holds 200 pictures, and I'm well into my fifth album now.  For easy access, here are links and descriptions of them all:
Part one: arrival, the college and surrounding areas, the first part of the Natural History Museum.
Part two: second part of the Natural History Museum, Pitt Rivers Museum, TJ's visit, London, chapel, Inklings walking tour.
Part three: the Botanic Gardens, street performances and points of interest, Tolkien's grave, Oxford gay pride, Natural History Museum part three.
Part four: Natural History Museum part four, friends finishing, view from St. Mary's tower, Holywell cemetery, St. Cat's, HCMS dinner, Bath part one.
Part five: Bath part two, ???

For your reading pleasure, a final Things I've Noticed about Oxford and England itself:

• The sky is different.  Much of the parts of England I've seen the most of is very flat, so you can see for miles and miles.  This gives a sense of the sky being very low and very close; the clouds seem too solid and too near.  It's strange, because it feels sort of claustrophobic and exposed at the same time.  It's not uncomfortable, just a sort of vague sense of unease when looking out the coach window and seeing something that it might take me a day to walk to under these tangible white clouds.
• The trees are short, and there aren't enough of them.  This sort of adds to my sense of being able to see forever, because what trees there are aren't tall enough to obscure the view.
• Service industry people in unpretentious jobs are really, really nice.  Service industry people working at posh places are rude.  At least, this has been the general trend.
• Strangers are much less willing to be won over.  At home I often manage to endear myself to first-time acquaintances through manners, charm and simple being a somewhat attractive young female human being.  I think the characteristic "British reserve" has something to do with this; you're just not going to be that friendly with someone you don't know.  
• England is the second-most beautiful place I have been to in the world, the first being St. Martin in the Caribbean.  I can't wait to come back. 

Until next time, Oxford...