Practical Affairs

Today being Lances first day in the country, we headed out to get him provisioned with his necessaries-- food, cleaning stuff, and what not. I'm beginning to recognize the drawbacks of being the first to arrive and thus the most familiar with a place because it feels like I've spent most of this week getting either my self or newcomers set up, guiding them around town to grocery stores, post offices, etc., etc. I suppose it's good to be able to help; I know I would have loved to have a friendly face and a little guidance when I first got here. I am resolved, however, to make it to the Ashmolean Museum tomorrow and to avoid doing anything practical whatsoever.

We did stop for lunch at one of Oxford's most scenic spots, St Mary's Church, off the High Street and in Radcliffe Square. A few of the buildings were being worked on and there were some ugly scaffolds up here and there. I'll save posting pictures for a time when I can get some that do the Square justice. There was, on the other hand, nothing to complain about with respect to our food, which we ate in the Church's graveyard cum patio, which may seem a bit morbid until one realizes that there is hardly a square inch of Oxford where someone hasn't been beheaded, burned at the stake, or otherwise martyred or mutilated (remind me at some point to go into more depth about the medieval hazing rights of Exeter College. Oh, what the heck...It turns out that prior to the 17th century, incoming freshman at Exeter had the skin on their chins removed by the long, purpose-grown, thumbnails of their upperclassmen, and then were forced to drink a pint of salt water with their raw faces held out to an open flame. Pretty grim, huh?) So, like I was saying, the food was great.

I had a curried ginger split pea soup with spinach and espresso, which, by the way, was the first to pass my caffeine deprived lips since leaving America. Working at Starbucks has turned me into a disgusting brat.
This me and Lance at lunch making our 'delicious' faces. You probably don't want to eat with us.
I showed him the way to the gorcery after eating, where we ran into our Shimer professor, the esteemed Stuart Patterson, PhD. Kate and I had a chance to talk to him about our upcoming Oxford Tutorials--after all, I am over here to learn stuff I guess--and he gave me some very cool news. Stuart has been in contact with the currator of the Ashmolean Museum and he thinks he may be able to get me to spend some time handling the their collection of Renaisance optical devices for my Archeology of Vision tutorial. I don't want to get my hopes up, but It would be amazing to get to work with the actual historic devises my research has been on. Lets all keep our fingers crossed. Here we are on Cornmarket street. Not the most flattering photo; it looks like I'm spacing out and Stuart must be talking to Kate about her tutorial, which by the looks of it is on Popeye the Sailor Man.
Back at the flat, Raya, who has turned out to be an amazing cook, made us a salad, chic pea stew and a traditiona English Chocolate Pudding for dessert, or what the British call "sweet."

One for the Old Man

Here you go Dad. This one looks fast, but I think Mona is classier.

Another Shimer Student Arrives

Lance, another friend from Chicago, got in today. He'll be staying in the flat downstairs. We had him up for tea and 'Traditional English Food' beans and and toast.

This of course is a photo of the beans, and not Lance. I figure people are probably at their least photogenic after 12 hours of traveling, so I've held off. I'll be sure to get some pictures of us all up soon.

Sorry for the short post. We're going to head out to the city shortly. There is a beautiful church in Radcliffe Square that I discovered yesterday which looks like it allows visitors into its steeple. I think a bird's-eye view of the city would be a really great introduction to Oxford for Lance, as well as Kate and Raya, who have yet to see much. I'm sure I'll get some great pictures for you all as well.

I'll post some more this evening.

A Poem and Some Sights.

In some reading yesterday I came across this:

'Duns Scotus's Oxford'

TOWERY city and branchy between towers;
Cuckoo-echoing, bell-swarmèd, lark-charmèd, rook-racked, river-rounded;
The dapple-eared lily below thee; that country and town did
Once encounter in, here coped and poisèd powers;
Thou hast a base and brickish skirt there, sours	5
That neighbour-nature thy grey beauty is grounded
Best in; graceless growth, thou hast confounded
Rural rural keeping—folk, flocks, and flowers.
Yet ah! this air I gather and I release
He lived on; these weeds and waters, these walls are what	10
He haunted who of all men most sways my spirits to peace;
Of realty the rarest-veinèd unraveller; a not
Rivalled insight, be rival Italy or Greece;
Who fired France for Mary without spot.

Gerard Manley Hopkins; 1879

Good old Italian Sonnet.

I don't know much about Duns Scotus other than a faint recollection that Heidegger wrote his dissertation on him and that he was apparently an Oxford man. But I especially like the 'branchy between towers' and 'rook-racked, river-rounded' bits.

To illustrate:

This was taken from a foot bridge over a canal just past my flat.

Here's the Thames, long before London and two minute walk from the flat.
St Timothy's Church and Yard; also not far from me.


One of the Colleges; I got a bit lost and can't remember which.
Outside the Sheldonian Theatre.

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.

I like the typeface they use here.

They make me feel like I'm in a Wes Anderson movie. See...Sans-serifs are where it's at!

Oxford is nice, but there are things from home I miss.