Yesterday I FINALLY got to my place of residence for the term - 8 Crick Road in Oxford, England. My house is small, but charming, and something of a cross betwixt living in a flat and a house. I share my room with two girls, Bethany from Roberts Wesleyan in Rochester, NY and Alicia from Biola in CA. Both girls are wonderful. I couldn't ask for a better fit in roomates. The 23 students in my house (9 boys, 14 girls) share a common room, kitchen, small computer room and small laundry area. The other housing option in the Scholar's Semester at Oxford (SSO) program is a large English house that is a 45 minute walk from town. Facilities of Crick in comparison to the Vines are of a David and Goliath (or Hospers and Steggy if you will - and I can say that because I have lived in both) sort. Our house is becoming quite close and that is most pleasant.
This afternoon is cloudy and cool as I sip tea and get back to my blogging. Yesterday I explored Oxford's covered market with my parents. Then I was left to myself to explore the house and meet fellow residents. We trapsed to City Centre (a "downtown" area if you will) and oohed and ahhed at the charm of everything. I'm already in love with Oxford and saddened at the thought of leaving. Several students will be here the entire year and I admit to envying them.
Last night we had an early dinner party. The meal, a plethora of foods, included pattee, tarts (akin to cheesecake), chocolate dipped strawberries (which I helped to create), fruit, vegetables with humus, pizza, ginger beer and, of course, tea. After more city exploring I pulled up a chair in the kitchen and engaged in conversation with some of our basement dwellers.
Today my roomates, some others and I headed to City Centre for morning coffee and tea. We also did some window shopping and became quite aware of how "unEuropean" our own clothing appeared. We also found a number of lovely restaurants we can't afford to experience. We've decided that some night we will dress up and sit at the bars trying to find kindly British guys to pay for us.
Living with Americans has many its share of pros and cons. The difficulties and excitement of beginning time at a new school are no different than they would be in the states. The first impressions, quite judgments, arrogance and need to impress are still very much a part of community living.
Time to get ready for the symphony tonight.
Cheers!
Friday, August 31, 2007
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
the journey over
It would be easiest to tell you what my luggage has been through in the past 24 hours - from Lincoln to trunk to Omaha to airport to baggage claim to plane to London to trolley (ie. luggage cart) to taxi (ie. small bus with many people and not much space) to lift (ie. elevator) to hotel room (ie. small room with fourish walls, three beds, a toilet and a tea pot). However, my luggage did not get to walk through Kensington Garden and Hyde Park, join me for linguine and Merlot, or indulge in gelato. My luggage was also spared from sharing a seat with me on the 7 hour flight to Heathrow. And so it is up to me to tell the tale that my 83 lbs of luggage cannot.
At 11.00 am London-time and my parents and I arrived safely (though a little worse for the wear). The flight to Chicago was pretty routine. During the 3.5-hour layover, however, my mom started to feel rather ill. The 8-hour flight was not a pleasant experience for her to say the least.
My own flight was interesting. I usually don’t have a problem keeping myself occupied, but the stench of the aged European man next to me (yes, I am stereotyping) was distracting. On a more positive note, though, my flight did include Spiderman 3, some heavy journaling, the composition of a letter, listening to my iPod (including “new to me” music) and fitful (but needed) sleep.
London feels a bit like New York City, with the added benefit of British accents. I don’t know how effective and/or insulting it would be if I tried to pick one up. For the time being I just enjoy listening.
We stopped by a little Italian restaurant for pasta and wine (some sort of Merlot, a little dry, but not too bad. Of course, I couldn’t finish the glass as it was 12.7% alcohol and I am, well, me), followed by gelato. All of this was preceded by a nice walk around Hyde Park and the Kensington Gardens. I’m looking forward to exploring the city on my own one of these days. Oddly enough being in a city full of people gets me itching to be in it by myself, or rather on my own.
It hasn’t really sunk in yet that I’m overseas, much less that I will be living here. I’m sure a large part of this is due to the fact that I’m with my parents until Friday morning, which makes my transition more and less difficult at the same time. Though I enjoy them, I’m anxious to be on my own. I want to begin my adventure.
Before leaving I must add that I think anyone who makes time enough to read this blog should download skype and "give us a bell" sometime. What could be better than talking for free? Being on your computer at the same time? Exactly. I rest my case.
At 11.00 am London-time and my parents and I arrived safely (though a little worse for the wear). The flight to Chicago was pretty routine. During the 3.5-hour layover, however, my mom started to feel rather ill. The 8-hour flight was not a pleasant experience for her to say the least.
My own flight was interesting. I usually don’t have a problem keeping myself occupied, but the stench of the aged European man next to me (yes, I am stereotyping) was distracting. On a more positive note, though, my flight did include Spiderman 3, some heavy journaling, the composition of a letter, listening to my iPod (including “new to me” music) and fitful (but needed) sleep.
London feels a bit like New York City, with the added benefit of British accents. I don’t know how effective and/or insulting it would be if I tried to pick one up. For the time being I just enjoy listening.
We stopped by a little Italian restaurant for pasta and wine (some sort of Merlot, a little dry, but not too bad. Of course, I couldn’t finish the glass as it was 12.7% alcohol and I am, well, me), followed by gelato. All of this was preceded by a nice walk around Hyde Park and the Kensington Gardens. I’m looking forward to exploring the city on my own one of these days. Oddly enough being in a city full of people gets me itching to be in it by myself, or rather on my own.
It hasn’t really sunk in yet that I’m overseas, much less that I will be living here. I’m sure a large part of this is due to the fact that I’m with my parents until Friday morning, which makes my transition more and less difficult at the same time. Though I enjoy them, I’m anxious to be on my own. I want to begin my adventure.
Before leaving I must add that I think anyone who makes time enough to read this blog should download skype and "give us a bell" sometime. What could be better than talking for free? Being on your computer at the same time? Exactly. I rest my case.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Saying hello?
Dreams are intended to help the brain process and remember recent events. My dreams also serve to integrate who, what and where I was with that which I am and will be. It should come as no surprise to me that the past two nights my sleep has been saturated with nonsensical dreams which arouse confused emotions. I am presently in Orange City, IA visiting my college friends. Such a strange thing, like the first and last week of school all rolled into one weekend. Conversations that begin with "Hey, I haven't seen you forever. I've missed you!" end far too soon with "Have a great semester. I'm going to miss you so much."
What am I doing leaving all of this behind? And what will I find when I return? A lot can happen in a semester. I know I will not be the same when the four months is up, I expect no more and no less from those I leave behind.
What am I doing leaving all of this behind? And what will I find when I return? A lot can happen in a semester. I know I will not be the same when the four months is up, I expect no more and no less from those I leave behind.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Integrating the Daft and Dishy
I'm almost set for my journey to England - a final excursion to Orange City, last minute details, family breakfast at Perkins and Bob's your uncle.
(I ought to explain here and now that I shall be doing my utmost to accustom myself to use of British lingo. I don't know how much of it will become second-nature, but it can't hurt to try.)
If anyone has the inclination to write to me during the next three months the following address should be used:
Amanda Kuehn
SCIO
2 Frewin Court
Oxford
OX1 3HZ
UNITED KINGDOM
If you're lucky I may just write back. If you're really lucky I'll write first.
For now I ought to chivvy along.
Cheers!
(I ought to explain here and now that I shall be doing my utmost to accustom myself to use of British lingo. I don't know how much of it will become second-nature, but it can't hurt to try.)
If anyone has the inclination to write to me during the next three months the following address should be used:
Amanda Kuehn
SCIO
2 Frewin Court
Oxford
OX1 3HZ
UNITED KINGDOM
If you're lucky I may just write back. If you're really lucky I'll write first.
For now I ought to chivvy along.
Cheers!
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Changing Colour
This morning I woke around 7:00, less than six hours after packing my suitcases for about the third time. I will go through this ritual of emptying my bags, eliminating one sweater and packing them again at least two more times before heading to the airport. I have spent the past three days shopping for things I need (rather that I don't want to buy in England) and painstakingly deciding what to leave behind (the "Where's Waldo?" sweater did not make the cut). I reason with myself that by brining cereal and granola bars and caramels and oatmeal I will be sure to have space for all I assimilate in the next four months. I am not convinced.
Somewhere between all the packing and unpacking and repacking I am aware of a familiar restlessness that sets in when I am about to move yet again. I feel out of sorts and displaced, even in my own room where I am surrounded by all of my "stuff." I rely too much on that "stuff," identifying myself with it, hiding behind it, forming attachments with the temporal. This semester will be different. There is no car, no van, no U-haul to cart my small world around in. There is only me and my pen. I consider this a rare privilege, and I hope I will take advantage of it.
I admit to apprehension. In addition to the token fear of the unknown and the academic rigor of Oxford University what I wonder about currently is who I will be when I am alone, without relationship, occupation or possession to define me. What colours will I show? I know not, but I am preparing to learn, to "gen up" if you will, and take some ownership of that which has been defined by things for so long.
Somewhere between all the packing and unpacking and repacking I am aware of a familiar restlessness that sets in when I am about to move yet again. I feel out of sorts and displaced, even in my own room where I am surrounded by all of my "stuff." I rely too much on that "stuff," identifying myself with it, hiding behind it, forming attachments with the temporal. This semester will be different. There is no car, no van, no U-haul to cart my small world around in. There is only me and my pen. I consider this a rare privilege, and I hope I will take advantage of it.
I admit to apprehension. In addition to the token fear of the unknown and the academic rigor of Oxford University what I wonder about currently is who I will be when I am alone, without relationship, occupation or possession to define me. What colours will I show? I know not, but I am preparing to learn, to "gen up" if you will, and take some ownership of that which has been defined by things for so long.
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