Get out of town.

I finally got my last two essays turned in this week, for better or worse. I get so fed up with my agonizingly slow writing process, and this usually results in the need for a sort of ritual cleansing of my writing area as soon as I turn a big paper in. As soon as I came home on Friday I fell into a cleaning frenzy, including dusting, vacuuming, organizing my papers and recycling tons of old notes, weeding out library books on topics I don't want to be reminded of for the forseeable future, taking out the trash, organizing my closet, cleaning my sink...it was pretty intense. I felt lots better afterwards.

My week wasn't completely neurotic, however! I had one of the best days since I've been here on Thursday, when I made a day trip to Oxford. The ostensible reason for the trip was to attend a lecture on "The Decline of Poetry in the Fourth Century" (which nobody really believes happened -- the decline, that is, not the lecture). The lecture was fine, but the best part was meeting up with a friend who's a postgrad at Merton College afterwards and spending the afternoon and evening with her. The weather was beautiful by the time we left the lecture, although it had been pouring when I went in -- typical England! We stopped to get ice cream at a famous place across from Christ Church, then walked through the meadow and down along the Thames, where we found lots of cute fuzzy ducklings and several teams of rowers out (including, it must be said, some very fine looking young gentlemen in flattering uniforms). We made sure to be back at Merton by 6, because it was Ascension Day, the only day of the year when the student are allowed to climb all the way up onto the roof of the chapel! They only let 100 people up, and we were numbers 99 and 100 -- whew! It was the most amazing experience -- the views from the top were stunning.



A priest performed a short service, and there was a small choir to lead several hymns. Afterwards, there was quite a swanky little champagne reception on one of the lawns, complete with people playing croquet. We had to leave in time to be at the dining hall promptly at 7 (Oxford runs with military precision) for dinner. It was just like you imagine: everyone in robes, professors at the high table, grace rattled off in Latin...and unimpressive British food. But never mind that last bit. The whole thing was so darned cool to see.



After my friend had to take off for a dance rehearsal, I had an hour or so to kill before my train, so I wandered all around town just as it was getting dark. It was really something to see into the Bodleian from the outside and to observe how the character of the town changes at night after the tourists clear out, leaving the streets to industrious looking students and chavvy teenagers just bumming around, pretty much in equal parts.

It's days out like Thursday that make me realize how lucky I am to be here. The Brits would laugh at me for saying this, because it seems so ordinary to them, but train rides in particular are a sort of spiritual experience for me. I'm not sure why, but I think Britain truly looks its best through a train window. Plus, I love the idea of communal travel: it's so much more interesting to travel among a bunch of strangers (mainly ordinary, respectable looking folks, unlike with Amtrak at home) rather than being sealed off in car all alone. I also think it's hard to underestimate the power of public transport, along with the dominant habit of walking everywhere here, for building a national identity. I see so many more people on any given day here -- just passing them on the street or sitting next to them on a bus, for example -- than I ever would at home. You get a real feeling of being a small part of something bigger. I think America (well, the non-urban parts) could use a dose of that.

My observations are running a little long tonight! I'll cut it out with the words and leave you with some pictures. Click here to see an album that includes pics from Oxford. Happy weekend to all!