New flatmates and a bit of the High Street

Raya and Kate, two of my fellow students as well as my new flatmates, arrived from Chicago this afternoon. They seemed in higher spirits than I was when I first got here and I think there is probably something to be said for traveling with a friend. I had some time to kill before they got in from Heathrow, so I spent I little bit of time exploring the central High Street, which is one of the more bustling commercial quarters of Oxford.

First, I paid a visit to The Oxford University Press Bookshop. A few people know me well enough to understand that this was a semi-religious experience for me.

Mecca:

This shop stocks the full catalog of the Press's books in print. Amazing. The following is a sight so wonderful, that in my drab days shelving the literature section as book clerk at Borders, I only dared to imagine something like it in moments of wildest fancy. Behold: a comprehensive and exclusive collection of the Oxford World Classics, perfectly alphabetized. Rapture.

The only thing that was a bit depressing about all this was the prices. Most things here are more expensive than in the States, given the abysmal exchange rate. Books, however, at least at the Press's shop, are more that twice their price at home. I'll need to start buying books for my courses beginning next week, and I'm starting to think it might still be cheaper to have them sent from home. Ugh.

Anyway, all that book browsing made me hungry. Back on the High Street, the place is strewn with tons of neat little cafes, bakeries, soup shops and coffee houses. Oxford, I discovered in my reading this morning (A Traveller's History of Oxford, Tames 2003, mildly sardonic, informative, and not at all a tourist guide--I recommend it), was home to the first coffee house in all England back in 1650. In 1654, the second English coffee serving establishment was opened, also in Oxford, and it remains in operation today. The Queens Lane Coffee House, as it's known, is also where I happened to stop for a snack. I didn't know its story at the time, and while I'd like to think it was my keen eye for historical detail that drew me inside, I have to admit that it was really the giant cookies in the window.

You may note that they added cream to my coffee. I always take it black, however, I have a bad habit, born of a desire to seem obliging and not an American jackass, of simply saying "Yes" when the British ask me questions using words or idioms I'm not immediately familiar with. Admittedly, this is a bad strategy, especially given the fact that often, judging by the looks I get, the questions put to me often don't warrant a "yes" or "no" response. So when the barista (do they call them that here?) asked me if I wanted my coffee white, this brainiac said, of course, "Yes." How hard is it to figure out that "white coffee" means "with milk?" Way to blow it, Iverson. I also inadvertently bought a 7 pound car charger for my new cell phone in a similar fashion, which should work well given that I don't think I'll be in a car once in the next 12 months. Who's a jackass now?

After Kate and Raya decompressed from their flight a little, we went out to a pub in St. Giles street called the Eagle and Child.
The food was really good, not at all the pale, bland fare I was prepared for. I had a brie and cherry tomato (toMAHto, as they say) tart on a bed of fresh spinach and cucumber salad and a pint of local bitters. Easily the best meal I've had since I've been here. I wanted to take a picture because it looked quite nice, too, but I thought maybe Raya and Kate were to tired to be quite up to my camera shenanigans.

Also, the Eagle and Child turns out to have been the favorite drinking spot for J.R.R. Tolkien, C. S. Lewis, and the other Inklings. I can report on no hobbits or suspect wardrobes. Sorry.