A wise fat boy on an otherwise deservedly obscure reality TV show once said: "life isn't all rainbows and sausages." You tell it, child! I've since added to my lexicon a great French idiom which reminds me of the former: "life isn't all beer and skittles." I suppose the version of this idiom for my own trip could be "life isn't all beer and Cadbury Eggs" or perhaps "life isn't all scones and clotted cream." Or, perhaps most accurately, "life isn't all chocolate brioche, cider, and DoctorWho/Game of Thrones/BBC miniseries."
One might speculate that these comments herald the beginning of my real work in Oxford - my academic work. It is true that this post and the academic acceleration coincide. However, my thoughts are probably more related to my [first of this trip] excursion into London, of yesterday, with the intent of seeing a play adaptation of Frankenstein - one of my FAVORITE novels. I knew that there was a possibility of not being able to get tickets, since the show is completely sold out for its run. I was optimistic, but open to second options upon discovering the line of 40 people waiting for an uncertain quantity of returned tickets to be released. My other three companions and I (team "Frankenstein," so called to complement another small group of Stanford students who entered the city with us to see Legally Blonde) decided that we still wanted to see a play and headed off to Leicester Square to find half-price tickets for (a) Umbrellas of Cherbourg or (b) In a Forest Dark and Deep. BOTH were sold out. In a last effort to make an event of the journey, three of us purchased tickets to "The 39 Steps" - a comedic adaptation of an early Hitchcock film. I watched the film today... it's not funny. But its not really trying to be funny. The play wasn't very funny either... but it was trying.
By all physical accounts the trip to London was a failure. We almost missed the bus back to Oxford since nobody in Victoria Station could tell us where it was leaving from. Listening to music barely overshadowing the gossip of the other students immediately behind me as they discussed Legally Blonde and potential hookups within the Stanford House, I mostly wanted to get to bed. Yes, because I was sleepy; but even more so because I wanted to start over again.
Failure is such a brutal word; such a subjective concept. If the previous few days hadn't been the bliss of rambling around Oxford in the daytime, watching media and drinking cider in the evening, then the London trip wouldn't have been a 'failure' at all. Most importantly, like all life 'failures' it brought me back to the reality of things. 'Reality' - that word that keeps popping up in my thoughts and, consequently, in my blog - the thing that makes studying abroad so much more than a vacation.
I would like to warn the reader not to be confused by any of the things that I write on this blog. I am having a wonderful time! It wouldn't be wonderful if I couldn't think about it in the melodramatic light that I sometimes tend towards.
Most recently I come from a dessert social that actually involved Oxford students (granted, I was in my pyjamas - my 'nightgown' for those who get a kick out of that vocabulary word - and not very inclined to socialize with anyone who had the advantage of street clothing and a British accent). Nevertheless, I am very excited to start meeting local students! Our college orientation is tomorrow. I can already see the younger population on the streets of Oxford subtly increasing.
Oh, I wasn't able to go to the dance event last Sunday because it was canceled for Easter. That remains something to look forward to!
Classes have been good thus far, and occasionally great. I particularly enjoyed my early women writers class this morning. Our professor, unlike everything else in Oxford, appears under the age of 35. She takes her studies very seriously, something that I notice a lot in younger academics, while retaining a humor that is more relevant to the student generation. I look forward to reading the sex and scandal of many a gothic affair!
Still looking forward to my tutor meeting on Thursday... which reminds me that I ought to continue reading Surprised by Joy by C.S. Lewis. Less than 100 pages to go and enjoyable reading (I was reading it in the Radcliffe Camera section of the Bodleian Library earlier today).
Chocolate pudding in my stomach from the dessert social = eupepsia and the promise of a productive evening!
p.s. I did not get saved by a British man on the punting expedition, though it does turn out that I am quite bad at punting. Alas! maybe next time...
I'm sorry to hear about your less-than-ideal London experience. Now you'll just have to have twice as much fun next time!
ReplyDeleteAlso, so much good food mentioned in that post. Yum.
Random association: I just learned a french saying which translates to "one who steals a single egg, steals a cow". Apparently it rhymes in french, but still A COW!?!?!?!
ReplyDeleteYour women writers teacher sounds a bit like my british lit prof (with whom I having an absolute blast).