I'm an Oxford (Wo)man

Part of the appeal of ASE is its built-in excursions. Several other programs situate the students in their home location but exclude outside travel. With my program, however, I get a steady succession of program day trips and class study trips along with—get this—a week at Oxford. While at Oxford classes meet normally, but instead of residing in Bath, we live in student dorms and get an imaginary taste of life in Oxford. And I love it. Oxford, commonly thought of as a single university, is really just a collection of loosely connected colleges dispersed throughout the city. Specifically, I’m staying at University College, or ‘Univ’. The second I arrived at the main quad in Univ, I instantaneously felt an overwhelming sense that I’d been here before. No really, I had been here before. Not just a wistful case of déjà vu, back when I went London around age fifteen with some relatives, we took a day excursion to Oxford, and I visited Univ. Well, not visited, exactly. We (unwittingly) poked our heads through the main door of Univ, while touring the city, but the porter swiftly informed us that unaffiliated visitors aren’t allowed to walk through the main quad. Roughly six years later, I’m now spending a week inside Univ. Irony, serendipity, call it what you will, it’s a fabulous twist of fate.

According to the ASE staff, they assigned rooms at random, so some students ended up in shoeboxes and others in palaces. One room, not mine, unfortunately, even has a grand piano. Personally, I fared pretty well with the random room lottery. During my stay, I lived in staircase four, room five on the main quad right next to the Porter’s Lodge. Upon arrival, several ASE staff members likened the layout of the ‘staircases’ to Alice in Wonderland because of the numerous series of doorways that lead to a labyrinthine web of either sparsely or enigmatically marked doors, hallways and stairs. Consequently, people always seem to be unexpectedly disappearing and reappearing at any given moment around the innumerable odd curves and turns of Univ. You literally never know who’s going to pop around the corner. The main quad has seven staircases and adjoins to a smaller quad with four. My room is at once confusingly extravagant and ramshackle. I have a roommate, although we both have separate beds connected by a common area. If I had to guess my bedroom is roughly three-quarters the size of my entire dorm room from last semester and the common room is equal to about a dorm room and a half. My room came equipped with a towel, a small toiletry set, a cabinet with clothes hangers, a sink and a mirror, two end tables, a bookshelf and a desk with an enormous rolling chair. The common room has a functioning mini fridge, table, chairs, phone, two window seats overlooking the quad and an electric kettle with a basket of tea and instant coffee. Did I mention we get maid service everyday? This isn’t a dorm room; this is a hotel.

However, the details are a bit rough around the edges. The walls are badly chipped with several serious cracks snaking up the sides of the ceiling along with two minimally sized holes, yet the damage only further imbues endearing charm to the place. Plus, Univ boasts that it’s the oldest college at Oxford, founded in 1249, so I can’t expect the entire place to be in tip-top shape. It’s a relic. Furthermore, in terms of safety, Univ’s fully covered. Porters guard the main entrance with judicious care, and they also hang on to spare keys for each room should any student get accidentally locked out (which may or may not have already happened). The rest of the doors require codes. There’s a code for all external doors, a code for all internal doors, a code for the common room and a code for the classroom. The numbers selected for each code are, amusingly enough, mildly strategic. I’d explain further, but then I’d have to kill you. Really. No, seriously, Oxford honour. Just make sure you don’t step on the grass, that’s the biggest faux pas of all. Apparently, they take great and dignified pains to keep the lawns perfectly green and well-manicured at Univ. These aren’t American quads to loiter aimlessly about on; this is Oxford, after all.

The city of Oxford, to put it quite concisely, is wonderfulfabulousposhinterestinggorgeousawesome. In a way, it feels like the illicit love child of London and Bath with a heavy dash of mythology. Everything in Oxford occupies a grand scale. The breathtakingly intricate architecture towers massively over the inhabitants in a daunting yet awe-inspiring way. Living in Oxford feels sort of like living in one giant, cavernous library. I feel smarter already. Regardless of the ancient atmosphere, Oxford possesses all the amenities of a modern city. Good shopping (my wallet can cry to you about that), good food (ditto to my stomach) and good entertainment (uh, well, no crying here). The market in Oxford is the best I’ve encountered by far in terms of quality and variety of shops. For instance, it offers, among other things, fancy milkshakes, lobsters and high-end jewelry. I love the Guildhall market back in Bath, but I can’t say it’s quite as posh or diverse. But my absolute favorite stop was Patisserie Valerie. Relatively new to Oxford, the patisserie has established branches all over England, but I’ve heard that the Oxford location is actually haunted. Personally—and luckily for me—I didn’t encounter any supernatural forces, but the mind-blowing pastries tasted entirely unearthly. Yeah, I know, I always go on about food, but I think I tend to remember my trips by what I ate, and that raspberry tart is seared into my memory.

An eye-popping shade of electric neon ruby red, it didn’t just call to me from the pastry case window, it practically screamed and beat me over the head. Obviously I bought one. Let me tell you, it was the best decision I have ever made. Piled high with jeweled berries so ripe they’re about to explode, the tart housed a hidden layer of rich cream in a flaky pastry shell coated with an almost indiscernible layer of chocolate. It basically glided as voluptuously smooth as silk velvet in my mouth. I’d vouch that it’s definitely one of the best things I’ve eaten on this trip. Paris is going to have to bring it as far as I’m concerned. Of course I promptly bought one the next morning and paired it with coconut hot chocolate that tasted like a melted Almond Joy in a cup from a nearby coffee stand. So much for the free breakfast Univ provided. But it was worth it. That goes double for the Habana cake I split four ways with my friends on the last day. Covered in rich cream, chocolate mousse and startlingly fresh fruit, the chocolate cake unexpectedly included frothy layers of fruit-filled whipped cream. I’d confidently say that cake was probably the second best decision of my life. During the course of my trip, any time I feel like I need to justify my actions I simply remind myself that I won’t be in England forever, so I should indulge in a little excess while I’m here. Essentially, this program is a four-month academically-minded vacation, right? I have plenty of time for sad Starbucks pastries once I return, if I can even afford those, but I’m only abroad for a (sadly) limited period of time.

Honestly, though, I’m not quite sure which was my favorite moment at Oxford. Re-visiting the architecturally stunning Christ Church reminded me of how insane it is to think that some people actually attend school in such a historically and literarily significant place. UMW, I think you should take a few tips from Christ Church… Also, punting down the River Cherwell created the ultimate idyllic image of Oxford: atmospheric willows strummed by the gentle breeze and ducks floating complacently down the river while picnickers and readers peacefully sat along side the bank, all unified by the magically medieval skyline of Oxford. Plus, colliding into a boat full of Italians unabashedly singing along to an opera playing on their portable radio pretty much made the outing for me at least. Although, I suspect I enjoyed punting much more than the boat that got lost for four hours. Additionally, I highly recommend a visit to the Botanic Gardens. Part of the gardens was closed for renovation and expansion, much to a friend’s disappointment (she had wanted to see the bench Philip Pullman references in Golden Compass), but the grounds open were still incredibly lovely. In particular, the collection of greenhouses, all lusciously dripping cascades of exotic greenery, featured an impressive assortment of different themes. Personally I’d have to say the fruit room, which smelled like sugary sweet bubblegum and the carnivorous room, which featured a terrifying array of threatening plants, were my definite favorites. Furthermore, observing the exact same plate as Claudia, the protagonist of Moon Tiger (from my Mementoes class) at the Ashmolean Museum induced an ultimate geek moment. But that’s hardly surprising since Oxford is the city of intertextuality. There are at least ten famous literary references on each street corner. In fact, did I mention Percy Bysshe Shelley briefly attended Univ before he was kicked out? Bad move, Univ. While I suppose I technically count as a world traveler now, I by no means feel like an expert traveler, so I feel a little contentious when I claim this, but Oxford really seems like the greatest city in the world, or at least in the top five, anyway. I want to stay here forever. Grad school?