Oxford, Hipstamatic-Style

So I downloaded Hipstamatic for my iPhone yesterday and am officially obsessed: I'm already a total addict when it comes to taking pictures of uuurrveryting I can with my iPhone (especially since I can't use it to do much else these days... silly international calling zones!), and I'm really digging how much sharper and more contrasty the images come out with Hipstamatic... even if the program does naturally swing to the 'über emo kid' extreme at times. I was supposed to do a ton of reading today but forgot that the main Bod, where I was forced to send my books because I'd already reached the reserve limits in my normal reading rooms in the Camera, is closed on Sundays. D'oh!

Instead, I took a nice walk around University Park, my favorite 'natural' place in Oxford, and then hit up the Social Science Library to see if there were any general WWII books there that I could use to at least get some work done even if I couldn't reach my real sources. So, here's quiet Sunday afternoon in Oxford, brought to you by Hipstamatic. Enjoy!

(Starting off at the Radcliffe Camera, with All Souls looking on broodingly (and almost certainly NOT approving of the haphazard manner by which that bike got chained up))

(Ridiculously stereotypical Oxford scene, complete with croquet)

(Why can't US post boxes look this quaint?)

(It wouldn't be a day in England without at least one little rain shower!)

(The view from the University Park bridge)

(Rustic stile on the way out of University Park)

(My best Robert Adams impression on the way to Edgeway Rd)

(Tsk tsk, bad stewardship! Keep those gates closed!)

(This building is labeled as a sports ground, but it looks a little shabby by Oxford standards... reminds me more of a New England barn than the land of the Oxford gentry)

(Stalking ponies on Edgeway road! This section is always the highlight of all my runs - there's a field that must have a half-dozen fat, sassy, and adorable ponies out grazing)

(It was getting stormy again as I headed back into University Park)

(But then, of course, got blazingly sunny again as I reached the river - this guy was a JV-league punter at best, and spent most of the time I was there spinning around in a circle)

(super dapply bike on the way to the Social Science library)

(The entrance to the Social Science Library... not the most 'classic' building in Oxford!)

(the SSL in action)

(Stopping for groceries on the way back to the Stanford House)

(What a beautiful day to be out on the river!)

(possible tragic multi-punt collision waiting to happen)

I'm off to get a little more work done, and then maybe hit the pool before it closes tonight. I'm getting excited for the coming few weeks!

Tutorials on the Brain

Well, as I said in my last post, the main reason behind my extreme dearth of blogging of late has been the incredible workload I've been dealing with this term. I've been somewhat annoyed with myself because I've allowed myself to fall into old habits of getting very one-track mind about schoolwork and nothing else (ie - not stopping to enjoy the sunshine, the company of my friends, or life outside the library), but it's hard to do otherwise when faced with this much! I'm a slow reader, and the amount required for two tutorials a week has had me scrambling from flag fall. I admit I'm getting a bit of an ulcer thinking about the next two weeks, where I will be traveling both weekends, but I'm SO EXCITED about the actual travel that I'm trying to not let it get me too down. But those are topics for a later post...

Anyway, so what am I even studying this quarter? I realize, after giving almost blow by blow accounts of my papers last quarter, I haven't even fully articulated my subjects for Hilary Term. I decided to continue in my art history trend (for fairly obvious reasons), just moving back a few decades from my Trinity tutorial to the Post-Impressionist era. I have a new tutor who really pushes me to chew on the readings she gives, analyze the quotes, and come up with some real analysis. She's considerably tougher on a lot of the ideas I come up with than my previous art history tutor was, but mercifully enjoys my writing style much more. In fact, she likes it quite a bit, and has commented each week that it's clear that I've put a good deal of work into my structuring and drafting. Thank you, Trinity Term! I'm still getting the same not-quite-what-I'd-like grades, but I've come to terms with letting it go. I'm getting better critiques than I've gotten on papers at Stanford for years (where the standard of late has been "well done" - good for plumping an ego but not for actually getting better!) and feel like I'm actually thinking about the topics more deeply and clearly than I ever have back home. Since this is the period where I hope to focus my Honors Thesis two years from now (granted that my grades from Oxford don't ruin my already borderline GPA and keep me from being able to apply!!), I'm feeling really good about the course as a whole. At the very least, I'll have a substantial bibliography to start working with when it comes time to start writing back at Stanny!

For my second tutorial, I decided on a whim last term to continue on with the study of World War II that I'd started in Professor Tyack's class. I've always loved WWII (my favorite movie, after all, is Patton) but had never really studied it outside a brief gloss in my junior year US History class. What I learned over Trinity fascinated me, and I desperately wanted to learn more. Though the reading for this class is out of control (on average six or seven full books--or at least, as close to full as I can bear--a week), it's a great change from the art-art-art track I've been on of late, which I've found seriously refreshing.

The style of the tutorial is also different, in that we haven't directly discussed my paper once yet this term. My tutor will have my paper in front of her, but will merely use it as a jumping off point for further questioning and discussion. It's like a quiz and an interview all at once, and I've had to learn to come to class with my notes in the front of my mind. Fortunately, I find it far easier to show off my knowledge in that format than in essays (must be from the years of competing at the national/international level of Know-Down, a sort of Pony Club-sponsored horse quiz bowl competition... and you think I'm joking), and I've ended up enjoying our tutorials quite a bit. It's much more fun to find yourself in an engaging conversation than trudging through an essay, line by line, picking apart the vast multitude of things that are wrong with it (though I know that the latter is necessary for improving).

Another girl in the program asked me a few days ago how long it took me to write an essay. It caused me a bit of pause, because I'd never actually considered it before. Quite a long time! And such a massive change from at Stanford where, I'm not happy to admit, most papers are conceptualized, researched, outlined, and written all in the few hours leading up to the due date. That has mostly to do with the fact that very few Stanford essays require (or even encourage) outside research, but also with the fact that, until coming to Oxford, I did NOT take the planning or revising stages of my essays seriously at all. I would make outlines, sure, but they were always just big lists of quotes or cut and pasted class notes pulled under various headlines with no elaboration whatsoever. Every transition, introduction, conclusion, and original idea was thought up on the fly and handed in without revision. I even handed in papers with spelling and grammatical errors! The idea now makes me ashamed, and seriously makes me wonder why I ever thought I was somehow entitled to excellent grades.

The paper writing process now goes something like this:

1. Reading

My art history tutorial has been merciful this year in that the readings have been fairly light and I can usually get them done in one day (unlike last term, where I would fret for hours and hours over a single, long-winded article). The history tutorial, as I've already mentioned, is a killer, but I'm getting better about doing "Grad school absorption" and being able to pull out the historiography, argument, and pertinent facts from a book without having to read it all. I'm still a slow reader out of hand, but I'm getting better.

2. Culling Notes

(This was by far the lightest stack of notes I've had for a paper yet - also, please overlook the wrinkled sheets!)

After an early week of intensive reading, I usually have between 10 and 40 pages of typed notes from my various sources for each paper - these are just quotes or summaries, with only the smallest amount of my input included. So, I print everything out and go through it by hand, selecting out what fits best with the question in mind and adding a first round of ideas to each.

3. Combining the Notes - Making an Outline

From there, it's a fairly mechanical process of transferring the things I liked from the raw notes into a rough outline. At this stage, I have to decide the general form of the essay so I can drop the quotes/thoughts/etc into the right zones. If I'm thinking super clearly, I can try to order them within the blocks to reflect the shape of my argument, but I don't worry about that too much as the next step sorts that out.

4. Expanding the Outline

This is the step that was most foreign to me before coming to Oxford. I've done all of steps 1-3 before, though certainly not on every paper I write at Stanford. Normally at the end of the third step I just begin to write, coming up with further elaborations and fixing the order of my argument as I go. After getting my structure destroyed several weeks in a row when I first got to Oxford, I decided I needed a new way. Now every rough outline gets printed out, and then I spend between two and three hours expanding it by hand. I try to focus on the order of the quotes/facts within each larger segment, and usually will write out the introductions, conclusions, and major transitions in full at this point. Since I can have a tendency to get too verbose, forcing myself to write by hand is a good way to make sure I don't get too crazy in those important structural moments.

5. Writing!

Depending on how complete I end up making the outline, the actual writing ends up going very quickly. I like this style because it means that by the time I start typing (at which point I'm usually exhausted or running up against a deadline or both) I don't have quite as much heavy lifting to do mentally. I still have to flesh some things out and edit what I've outlined as I go alone, but for the most part the groundwork is already there. If I've written fairly completely in the outline, then the typing process serves the second advantage of being a good chance to revise.

6. Last Edit and Read Aloud

At last! By this point, I'm usually pretty sick of the paper and can barely stand to look at it any more. I print it out and read it aloud to myself one last time, going through and making any last minute changes that pop out at me. Then, at long last, it's time to submit. Phew!

The Final Product

(the finished result! Thirteen pages of glory, finally with someone else's handwriting on it =D)

Definitely nothing to scoff at, work-wise. Weeks like this past one, where I've had four to complete over a seven day period, have absolutely knocked the stuffing out of me. I'm very thankful for the experience, but also admit that I did a fair bit of mental celebration when I realized this morning that I was half way finished for the term! Just seven more papers (of 14 total) to write, and I'll be free =)

Edinburgh Bing Trip

Ooh I've been such a naughty blogger this term! I've been simply buried with work for my classes of late, and so the prospect of sitting down and writing even more hasn't been at the top of my list of leisure activities. I've also been feeling seriously worn down, both physically and mentally, by a nagging foot injury that's been threatening to scotch my marathon preparations for a couple weeks now. But, armed with a good thirteen hours of sleep last night, I'm feeling a bit better this morning and have plenty to catch up on!

Last weekend was our quarterly Bing trip. If you remember last term's trip to Canterbury and Dover, it was... a bit miserable: cold, wet, exhausting, and involving some crazy bigoted tour guides and less-than-thrilling destinations. I mean, when the most exciting part of a trip is almost getting blown off the top of a tower by 40 mph sustained winds, it probably hasn't been a real barn burner of a weekend. So, even though I was quite excited when I learned that we were going to Edinburgh this time around, I still had some serious reservations.

But man, it turned out to be an awesome weekend! We arrived, after a painfully early flight/airport experience (though we had inexplicably nice leather seats and got a free hot breakfast... so few complaints), to blazing sunshine and warm temperatures. Already a big improvement over the winter Bing trip! We stopped first as Rosslyn Chapel, which is famous these days for being the site of the final scene of The DaVinci Code (which we watched as a prep earlier in the week... what a horrible movie!!). It was very beautiful and is jam-packed with Templar knights symbols and stuff, so many in fact that it was hard to believe that Dan Brown didn't actually build the thing himself a few decades ago.

(We weren't allowed to take photos inside, so this was all I got of Rosslyn Chapel)

After Rosslyn, we headed up to Edinburgh. I admit that I didn't have much of a conception of what Edinburgh looked like, and so I was very happily surprised to find that it was a stunningly beautiful city, with winding streets flanked by stone buildings all overlooked by the massive bulk of Edinburgh Castle up on top of the hill.

(Edinburgh Castle looking imposing)

We dropped off our bags at our very bland American-style hotel and then headed off on a walking tour of the city. Our tour guide was NOT a crazy bigot who decided that Stanford was a school for special needs children, and so it was automatically a big improvement over our tour of Canterbury Cathedral in February. The big take away from the tour was that Edinburgh is very hilly! We must have trekked up and down and across the Royal Mile about four times over two hours. Especially with my messed up foot, I was feeling it by the end of the tour.

I passed out in my hotel room when we got back and ended up oversleeping dinner - whoops! I did end up waking up and hustling downstairs, though I almost wish that I hadn't as the meal was by far the low point of the entire weekend. The food was barely edible and the room we were eating in was so echoey and loud that I couldn't hear a word of the conversation around me. I stayed through just long enough to not be rude, and then went straight up to bed and crashed out.

We started Saturday morning with a tour of Scottish Parliament, which I wasn't super excited for but ended up being incredibly impressed with. Edinburgh is just such a beautiful natural city; the parliament was full of big windows, and from each one there was a stunning view of Arthur's Seat washed in glorious spring sunshine. I had to keep reminding myself that this is hardly the normal weather for this area, otherwise I'd be seriously putting Scotland high on my 'dream farm location' list! It's hard to describe, but there's something so fresh and green about the countryside up there; it reminded me of the things I love most about Vermont. Oxford is definitely green as well, but without the startling intensity of the Scottish landscape.

After Parliament, Cole, Chelsea and I went to the Scottish Whisky Experience, which involved going on a ride through the whisky-making experience in an oversized whisky barrel, getting a scratch-n-sniff tour of the different whisky-producing regions of Scotland, and then having a tasting in an Alice in Wonderland-esque room with thousands of vintage bottles on display. Needless to say, given my like of whisky, it was AWESOME. I definitely splurged and brought some little 100 ml samples home!

(So much whisky!)

(Pondering my free sample)

Next up we had a Ghosts and Ghouls tour, which was supposed to highlight the seedier side of Edinburgh's past. I ended up being more afraid of our tour guide, who seemed wayyyy too into some of the descriptions of medieval torture, than anything else, but it was still seriously amusing. Afterwards we got dinner in a highly questionable pub and then went out to Biddy Mulligans, the awkwardly Irish themed pub in the touristy Grassmarket. I was still incredibly tired, and so turned in significantly earlier than most, but had a good time while I was out (even despite one 'situation' where a drunk old man grabbed me from behind, causing me to LEAP up and shout "JESUS CHRIST" loud enough for half the folks outside to hear... classic).

(Our tour guide down in the tunnels)

(A dubious point of pride)

(Edinburgh Castle looking equally beautiful at night on the way home on Saturday night)

Sunday morning dawned grey and misty for the first time over the weekend (again, I have to remind myself that this is what it's normally like because it was so gloriously wonderful otherwise!) as we headed off to the Modern Art Museum of Edinburgh. It was a cool museum, set on the grounds of a beautiful private home, and had a good collection. I got miserably separated from the group while enjoying the Jeff Koons special exhibit, and they ended up leaving without me while I played on the massive Landform sculpture outside - whoops! I had to book it back to make it onto the bus on time, but mercifully made it.

(Gettin all emo with the Jeff Koons exhibit)

(Playing on the Landform)

By this point, I was feeling pretty ready to head home. I'd had a wonderful trip, but had a paper hanging over my head and was looking forward to getting back to my own bed in Oxford. We had one more stop of the trip, Sir Walter Scott's Abbotsford House, and I was NOT looking forward to it at all. We went on a two hour trip through UNBELIEVABLY GORGEOUS countryside - again, rugged and green like the best of Vermont - but when we arrived I was still grumbling.

Well, as soon as we rounded the corner that brought the house into view, I shut up quickly! Abbotsford was unbelievably beautiful, like a little castle set in an improbably lush river valley. We got a tour of the house with probably my favorite tour guide of any trip I've taken in Britain so far (who made sure to point out such highlights as the portrait of Sir Walter Scott's grandfather "Beardy" and the cabbage moldings of the dining room ceiling).

We had a lot of fun afterwards playing on the massive grounds. I've missed being out in more natural settings so much, and so it was a great end to the weekend.

(Chillin on the Abbotsford lawn)

(Beeeauutiful grounds)

After that, it was a mad dash back to the airport, Oxford, and real life again (as much as living abroad in England could be labeled "Real Life!"). I've got more to write about over the next few days, but should probably get to work for the time being.

The Most Epic of Weeks, Part III: CS Lewis, White Horses, and FIRE

Phew, (my recount of) last weekend's madness is finally at an end. I know I don't usually go as into detail on specific details on this blog (maybe I should?), but man, there were enough ridiculous elements to this past weekend that I want to remember for as long as possible that I thought they deserved immortalizing on teh interwebz. As people who know me well know all too well at times, it takes some major wheedling to get me to go out, let alone literally party the night away. I very often have a good time (except maybe when getting clocked in the face with plastic tumblers... thanks Bullingdons), so perhaps I should keep in mind how much I enjoyed myself this past weekend the next time my friends are trying to pry me out of my room.

Anyway, Clare and I slept until noonish on Sunday (this still being less than six hours of sleep, I didn't feel too bad about it), woke up, and headed over to the Eagle and Child on the north side of town. The Eagle and Child is famous for being the pub where CS Lewis and JRR Tolkien would hang out every evening, hashing out the finer points of religion and philosophy. Even the sign is pretty awesome. If you've ever read/watched The Lord of the Rings, have you noticed how, whenever they get to a moment in the plot that doesn't appear to have any possible solution (even in this fantasy universe) -- boom! -- a giant eagle swoops out of the sky and plucks the characters out of danger. Well, check out the sign:

(Oh look... a giant eagle carrying off a human...)

Coincidence? I think not. I visited The Kilns (CS Lewis' house) last term and saw the original sign from their era, and it was much the same. It's cool to think of JRR Tolkien getting inspired by things that are right around me.

Anyway, we shared a quick pint with CS himself (well, his picture, but close enough!) and then headed over to University Park to enjoy the sun for a little while. Besides Friday, which (of course, being the Royal Wedding and so the day that footage of England was being beamed to every single corner of the globe) was grey and gross, we've had unbelievable weather since coming back to Oxford, and despite it being weirdly windy and me almost losing my panama hat on SEVERAL occasions, it was pretty fabulous. I certainly felt spoiled, after an entire term where I didn't go outside without a coat on!

(Chillin wit the man himself)

Afterwards, we wandered back to the house for a quiet afternoon of online TV poaching before heading back out again to give Clare a taste of a true British classic: Bangers and Mash. I've already talked about my surprising love for the stuff they turn out at The Big Bang up in Jericho, and so that was where we headed. I'm not sure Clare was behind it as I was, but I ended up polishing off both our plates and had an immoderately good meal. When you're used to French cuisine, I suppose, sausages, potatoes, and peas doused in gravy must seem pretty low on the list of dream-cuisine, but for someone like me who's tastebuds have been starved by the British lifestyle they're PURE GOLD: some of the only food to be had that's actually worth the mega calories that lurk within.

(Weirdly sof-glo and maybe unappealing picture of my bangers and mash; I swear to God, they were delicious)

One of the better things about The Big Bang is that it's also directly across the street from arguably the best place to get cocktails in all of Oxford. It's also pretty pricey meaning that I'd only gone once before, so I looking forward to getting another look at the impressive 15-page drinks menu.

(Clare works her way through the epic menu)

Clare, being the daredevil that she is, immediately identified the drink that involved fire in its mixing process and ordered it. I went with something involving bourbon, soda water, and strawberry jam all mixed together and served in a jam jar, which appealed to everything I love about Red Neck America and miss so very much. Needless to say, we were both very pleased with our selections.

(Clare and the "Blazer")

(Me and the "Jam Jar Hand Shandy")

We headed back to the house after that with the very admirable intentions of doing work, but who were we kidding? We ended up watching Law and Order SVU and Real World all night. And, like the fact that Clare's very small but FIERCELY blazing cocktail cost £6, it was worth it.

The next day passed in a blur of fatigue from the weekend, a bleary-eyed 9:30 tutorial, and getting Clare packed up to go home. We had one last lunch at the White Horse (which I will always think of fondly because it was also the site of my very first lunch in Oxford with Mom this past January!), where Clare enjoyed a pint of White Horse, and then it was time for her to go and time for me to get seriously back to work. Booooo. Oh well; as they say, all goods things must come to an end.

(A White Horse at the White Horse: perfect)

Today I'm off to play some polo (!!) and get my paper going for its noon tomorrow due date. Until then, Auf Moon, bitches.

The Most Epic of Weeks, Part II: Auf Moon!

So after the Royal Wedding/epic JW encounters of Friday night, Clare and I had a 'go-get-um' Saturday morning that involved getting up early (well, at 9:30) and heading straight over to the library to do work. I may have managed to complete my first Art History paper on Friday morning, but still had a World War II paper looming on Monday night whose reading I had neither finished... nor started.

We managed to sneak Clare into the Social Science Library (even though she did almost get stuck in turnstile trying to walk in right after me - whoops! - good thing the librarians behind the circulation desk appeared to all be on the same quaaludes and took not the slightest notice), sat ourselves down in some comfy chairs, and got to work. I have to give myself some props: my Oxford training has started to pay off, and I was able to get through four books in four hours without a single get-up-and-fidget break (which are normally an absolute staple). There were still an unbelievable number of Oxford students who were studying when I got there and still studying when I left, without looking like as much as a pee break was in their near future, but I'll take improvement where I can get it.

Afterwards, we rewarded ourselves with a Pimms picnic out in the back garden at the Stanford House, made slightly less awesome by the fact that the real Pimms was totally sold out (I'm guessing, based on the BEAUTIFUL weather we've had, that we weren't the first people with this ingenious idea) and so we had to get the significantly less awesome premixed Pimms that comes in the cans. Oh well. It was still sunny and warm and wonderful!

We came back to the room after that and I became a shitty host by getting totally wrapped up in Rolex cross country live streaming (Rolex being the American version of Badminton, which was going on this past weekend). Clare was a good sport, god bless her, and obligingly watched along. Doing this blew my opportunity for a nap, which I had been banking on because the night ahead--between the Exeter Ball and May Morning, which is a starting at 3am Oxford partying tradition--was promising to be a truly epic one. At around 7 I got into my dress, said goodbye to Clare (because again, I'm a shitty host and couldn't manage to get her a ticket), and headed off with three other girls from Corpus to the Exeter Spring Ball.

(How Clare spent Exeter Ball - Nun Blanket in full force)

(The Stanford girls at Exeter)

And it was pretty epic. They had bumper cars, open catering and an open bar, a big dance floor out back, and lots of places to wander. Playing bumper cars with a bunch of college kids in tuxedos and ball gowns has got to go up there as one of the weirdest and best things I've ever done. We had a great time, dancing on stage with the band and avoiding the awkwardly overt flirting of drunk Oxonians (my personal favorite: a kid walks up to me, bow-tie already undone and looking pretty ragged, looks me up and down, and says, "You're pretty hot." Thanks, man.).

(Alex and Ashley work the bumper cars)

(eeeee so fun!)

(Bull-riding a tiger, nbd)

We did have a few getting separated and completely unable to find one another again "situations" (made worse by the fact that no one seemed to be able to get cell service), and I did have a small belligerent Amuhhrican moment when I got tripped by people stepping on the train of my gown like fifteen times in a 6-minute period and finally snapped and RAINED OBSCENITIES down on the next person who did it to me, who happened to be a (very handsome) guy I'd met through polo the term before. Whoops. Embarrassing American Redneck tendencies coming out at the worst possible moment!

(Erickson dance moves: out in force)

(The Exeter dance floor)

(Royal Wedding strikes again!)

(Dancing on stage)

Besides these few setbacks it was a great night, and 3am closing time rolled around in what seemed like the blink of an eye. We went back to the Stanford house, picked up Clare (who was up and waiting for us), and headed back out to Babylove, which was one of the few bars in Oxford doing all-night pre-May Morning celebrations. We had a great time rocking out to Grease remixes and a seemingly endless 90s playlist, and even got the DJ to play "We R Who We R" as the sun rose. In other words, it was a pretty awesome night.

(Gettin down to "We R Who We R")

(Babylove 5:30am craziness)

(And then it was morning??)

It was still no rest for the wicked, as we headed straight off from Babylove to Magdalen Bridge to listen to the May Morning madrigals. Every first of May at 6am, a choir climbs to the top of Magdalen Tower and sings the Hymnus Eucharisticus. There was free coffee and tea being handed out by people on the streets, it was a beautiful morning, and I felt so happy to get to be there.

(The singers on Magdalen Tower)

(Free coffee and tea FTW!)

Afterwards there was some Morris dancing, which is traditional British dancing involving waving handkerchiefs and clacking sticks together as far as I could tell. It was pretty amusing, but the fact that I'd been awake continuously for the past 21 hours (and dancing continuously for the past 10!) was finally catching up to me. We got back to the Stanford house and I fell asleep while still sitting up in bed checking my email one last time (classic).

(There was also this guy.)

Next up, the epic weekend continues with chillin with CS Lewis, British food at its best, and flaming cocktails!

The Most Epic of Weeks, Part I: Badders, Weddings, Yellow Pants, and Gypsies

My deepest apologies for being INCREDIBLY remiss in updating the blog. All of last week seemed to get lost in a blur of post-Badminton highs and a desperate shuffle to get work done before my best friend from Stanford, Clare, (who is studying abroad in Paris this term) came up to visit for a weekend of Royal-Wedding-pub-crawling-ball-going-May-Morning insanity. Needless to say, I didn't find a convenient hour or so to sit down and write things down! So here's what's been going down:

Badminton

(How do you describe a man like Mark Todd? He's beyond legend and quickly approaching God - such an inspiration)

When I made my "Britain Top Ten" way back in December, I believe I called Badminton "the meccha of the sport towards which all lesser competitions look." After now making my first pilgrimage to the event itself, after so many years of watching and reading and hoping, I stand by that assessment 1000%. It was unbelievable, and I spent my four days in the Cotswolds in a haze of great sport, beautiful horses, the most heart-achingly idyllic British countryside I could imagine, and more horsey shopping opportunities than I could possibly know what to do with.

(The town of Badminton - unbelievably idyllic British beauty)

(Tweed Attack!!!)

To make it even more exciting I had press credentials, and so got to live the good life, eating catered lunches in the hospitality tent and getting access to things like private tours of the courses and the ability to stand in the main arena for the conclusion and prize-giving. This meant that I got to be literally a few yards from my all-time riding hero, Mark Todd, as he jumped to victory as the oldest winner in the closest Badminton in history. It felt unbelievably special to be there for that moment, and I'm just so thankful for the entire weekend. It was definitely hard to come back to the "real world" (as much as Oxford could EVER be described as real!!) on Tuesday morning!

(Badminton House)

(My 'shabby' view of the competition!)

The Royal Wedding

The Royal Wedding was another stalwart item on the "Britain Top Ten," and it goes without saying that it provided a significant amount of distraction in the few precious days that I should have been working in the lead up to the weekend. I'd already bought a huge amount of Royal Wedding tat (as the Brits call it), from the thimble to the spoon set to the paper doll kit, but still couldn't get over the displays that every window on High St suddenly seemed to be putting out for the occasion. To make things even more exciting, Clare was set to arrive on Friday morning and so was going to be there to join in the festivities.

(Seriously enjoying the "Kate + Will 4 Eva" at the bottom)

I flip-flopped about a thousand times about going into London vs staying in Oxford, and unfortunately work finally made the decision for me (which is a bummer of a reason to decide something if there ever was one): I had to get up early on Friday morning to finish a paper and then simply HAD to do some reading afterwards, so going into London wasn't going to happen. Fortunately, Corpus was having a viewing party in their auditorium, which Clare and I hustled to the second she arrived in the city, arriving just in time for the vows. We had altogether far too good a time making a running commentary of the entire ceremony, much to the chagrin of the possible Tories sitting next to us. I also admit I had a very hard containing myself when they starting playing "Jerusalem" (aka Hymn 110, the song we sang at the end of every single chapel and all-school function at Middlesex), and definitely sang along loudly despite numerous sidelong glances from the British kids around me. A serious prep-school-ftw!! moment =)

(Ok, this picture has very little to do with anything, but I think it's a hilarious testament to the extent to which the Royal Wedding is an international phenomenon. This photo was taken by a friend of a friend at a hippie music festival in South Africa - check out that William and Kate banner!! Amazing)

Afterwards Corpus, in the spirit of the celebration, decided to stage a wedding for the two college tortoises out in the garden. I have no idea how they came up with this idea, but as my general reaction to most things British is still "... I don't get it," I've learned to just roll with it. There were definitely top hats and tailcoats present, as well as scones and a lovely view of Christchurch Meadow from the back of the Corpus garden. It felt very Oxford in the best possible way.

(High Tea at the Rose = super classy times)

Clare then followed up the celebration with our own High Tea Extravaganza at The Rose, which is the super-classy tea place down the street from the Stanford house. They serve an entire menu of loose-leaf teas that even I, as an only occasional tea-drinker, find addictive, and pair them with warm scones fresh out of the oven and generous servings of clotted cream and strawberry jam. Nommmm.

Yellow Pants and Gypsies

After a brief dead man's nap (both of us had been up since 4am, after all, for various reasons), we hit the town again for a tour of some of Oxford's more famous pubs. We got out too late to get to our first choice dinner option of classy Japanese fare and so ended up grabbing a quick dinner at a possibly embarrassing fast food establishment (ok... it was McDonalds), but quickly made up for that streak of Americanism by heading over to the Turf, which has got to be my favorite looking pub in Oxford. You have to walk down this incredibly twisting and narrow alley to get there, and then it has a thatched roof and the ceilings are so low inside that people my height have to duck to avoid beams. In other words, it's basically an honest-to-god Hobbit House. It's also the place where Clinton, as a Rhodes Scholar, allegedly smoked but didn't inhale: classy.

Clare and I met up with another friend from the Stanford program there, and as we were wrapping up we ran into a few kids from Corpus, including the legend that is JW. Despite being actually from the Netherlands, JW has got to be the absolute poshest British person I've ever met, from his clothing to his phrasing to his straight-from-the-House-of-Lords accent. I'd already pointed him out to Clare because he'd been one of the most over the top tailcoat-wearers at the tortoise wedding, and he now completed his legend status by showing up in yellow pants and layers of pastel oxford shirts and a pink sweater-vest. I haven't seen such prep since high school. Awesome.

After a moment of brief introduction, we noticed that one of JW's friends had a substantial cut on his face, and that JW himself had blood splattered on those bright yellow pants. We quickly asked what happened, and it turned out that the boys had gotten into a scuffle with some Travelers (British gypsies) in the northern part of town when they'd tried to "move" the Travelers' caravan. Listening to JW describe what sounded like a rather serious situation in his categorically offhand accent had to be one of the weirder things I've ever heard. It wasn't until we pointed out to him that he'd gotten some blood on his yellow pants that he showed even the slightest agitation, and then proceeded to ask everyone in earshot different strategies for getting stains out of colored pants. When we told him cold water was his best bet, he left at once to remedy the situation. I'd never seen him move so quickly. Like I said: legend status.

We then visited The Cape of Good Hope (aka the place where they sell Früli, the strawberry beer) and the Cricketer's Arms before calling it a night at around midnight. This has ended up being a bit of a novel and I've got a tutorial to get to, so I'll continue with Saturday and the rest of the weekend (Exeter Ball! Sunset-Sunrise partying! May Morning! Clare's first bangers and mash! and so much more) either later today or tomorrow.