the rest of the journey

At this time I began walking down side streets. I'd had quite my fill of people. That's one thing that is so interesting about Oxford. The city has so many different personalities. At the beginning of my journey I was in the parks watching people bask in the sun, feed the ducks, make out (they like to do that in public) and generally enjoy some peace. I manuevered through the older areas of town and "got lost" (along with the constant flow of tourists) in the academic buildings, the massive Bodleian library, towering spires, imitation Bridge of Sighs, and amazing architecture. Then I was in the Botanic gardens, walking alongside the punters (on water, not on a football team), watching the rugby game on the other side of the river, and reading an essay on poetry. Not five minutes later I was in the middle of City Centre all abuzz with people, lots and lots of people -

Allow me a short rant on European shopping if you will. It seems to me that many young Brits live to shop, especially the super tall super skinny ones who exist in no small number. I think they spend all of their money on cigarettes instead of food and work off whatever they drink diving for clothes in the department stores. I've never seen such a mess of people! A woman walked through the store with a broom continually sweeping up hangers and whatnot that littered the floor. I don't think I'm cut out to be a high-speed shopper. Forget being trendy, I think I'll keep my sanity (says the girl in tennis shoes, jeans, and a button down shirt)

- Now that you more fully appreciate my need for retreat I return to my story. It was at this point that I headed out of the shopping district (which is unfortunately also the most direct way home). I followed a woman who seemed to know where she was going and ended up in what is now one of my favorite parts of the city - the Oxford canal. I was ready for a walk and so I adventured along the waterside admired the ducks, swans, boats, people, bridges, trees, and houses I passed. I even had my own background music courtesty of my iPod, Snow Patrol, Iron and Wine, and other assorted artists. The canal is 77 miles long. I'm not sure how many miles I covered by 6 pm, but it was more than I estimated.

I attempted to "resurface" several times, but couldn't locate the streets I came across on my trusty (or not so trusty) map. I knew I was near Banbury (a main street that is much much longer than I realized) and so, using my skills of watching the sun go down, I headed east (which actually did set me homeward bound). What I didn't realize was how terribly far north I was. Since you all don't know the geography of Oxford (and neither do I apparently) I'll just say that I spent a good hour trying to get home again, attempting to go east down streets that came to dead ends, wondering if I'd ever see Crick Road again. I didn't really become worried until I found myself along a sizable (think highway) road surrounded by rolling country (and nothing else) on either side for a about 15 minutes. Having walked away from all signs of urban life (aside from the road I was following, a road filled with vehicles that appeared to be on long journeys to other cities), I felt a bit like a hobbit journeying to Mordor. At this point I turned around and very indirectly found my way south.

I've never been so happy to see familiar roads or the house of Crick where I dwell. Fear not friends. Though I may be a changed person when I come home I have yet to gain a sense of direction. It's just a good thing I don't have a bike. That might really get me into trouble.