Some Final Words

The Last Week in London

Viva Hollandia!

St. Bernard's Pass Revisited and the Deutsch Autobahn

Rome IIII

Rome III

Rome II

Rome I

Florence II

Florence I

Venice

Verona and Padova

The Italian Alps and the Unknown City

Geneva

Villars

Bonne

Paris II

Paris I

Antwerp

Back to Holland

A Bit About St. Clare's

With the semester at the close and me having had such a fantastic experience studying abroad, I feel I need to talk a little bit about the college that has made all of this possible. St. Clares was founded in 1953 by Anne Dreydel and Pamela Morris with the mission of advancing international education and understanding amongst cultures. Based upon my experience, it is clear that they have stayed true to the course. There were well over 20 countries represented this term and from the first evening's dinner at St. Hilda's College to the 'final' going away party, I was meeting new friends from around the world, each with their own world view, and it was in their friendship that my own world view grew as a result. I watched as students from countries that often conflict with each other would put aside their differences and become good friends, with a new level of cultural understanding because of it. I had a fantastic education, with my Latin professor from the O.E.D., my Shakespeare and Psychology professors from the University (one with his doctorate from Cambridge, the other with her doctorate from Stanford), and my Blackfriars tutorial which challenged me in ways I did not think possible, bringing my academic work up to a new level in the process. The seminar series hosted fantastic speakers from a wide variety of backgrounds, all relating to the underlying topic, creating a very well thought out interdisciplinary approach. Even my world geography improved, as a result of this experience, as I now know people from all over the world, allowing me to put a face to the country. I have made incredible friends; I have learned more in this semester than I ever imagined and I had a fantastic time doing it-St. Clares has truly mastered the art of international education and I am grateful for having had the experience!

The City Centre

One of the first things I noticed about Oxford is how incredibly old everything appears. London is technically a much older city but, due to the Great Fire of London in 1666 and the bombing raids of World War II (Hitler spared Oxford as he had planned to make it the capital of England at the completion of his conquest), a great deal of London has been rebuilt; this is not the case in Oxford. A great many of the buildings still have archers' towers and, together with the brick-paved streets, give the feeling that one has just stepped into the Middle Ages.



















There is seldom a time when Queen or George St. are not bustling with activity and there are almost always a few students hanging out on the central monument's stairs. There are also street performers who come out in the nicer weather and the different streets often take on a much different feel depending upon who happens to be playing what instrument that day.

My favorite, however, is the fire juggler. Almost every night, once the sun went down, he would light his torches on St. Giles (around the corner from the hotel pictured) and share his talent with all who would watch. I have seen fire jugglers in the past, and this fellow wasn't any better than the next guy, but it was the fact that he would perform his light show directly under the windows of Blackfriars' Library, where I would often camp and do my homework, that made him so endearing to me. It was quite a shock the first time I saw a series of flaming sticks flying up and down in front of the second story window, but soon it became part of the routine and I waved goodbye to him as I left for the day upon the library's closing.

Blenheim Palace and the Legacy of Vanbrugh

Since my fascination with the famous loo in my front yard, for which I named this blog, had now landed me on television (apparently my excitement had rubbed off on some of the locals at the pub and word of mouth had reached the BBC. They showed up at the manor one morning and, as the newfound 'resident expert,' I gave them a guided tour), I couldn't very well leave England without seeing Vanbrugh's (the architect) masterwork: Blenheim Palace.

The Palace (the only one in England not owned by Queen Elizabeth II) was a gift to the first Duke of Marlborough, John Churchill, after he defeated the French at the battle of Blindheim (Blenheim) in 1704 and is currently occupied by the 11th Duke of Marlborough. Since the palace is not just an historic monument but also a residence, it contains some personal items of the Duke and I found some of the pictures very interesting. Arranged on a table adjacent to the law library, were pictures of the Duke with some American Presidents: Reagan, Bush Sr. and Clinton, yet George W. was mysteriously absent.



Sir Winston Churchill, though never a Duke but of the royal bloodline, was also born there. The palace contains, among other Churchill artifacts, his crib; a lock of his baby hair; and a memorial to the former Prime Minister, making the experience also a World War II lesson.

The palace sits on 2100 acres of incredibly well-manicured greens interspersed with fountains and gardens, and, as I hope the pictures indicate, is clearly a site to behold. It was well worth the 9 mile cab ride to see more of Vanbrugh's work.

King Lear AT THE GLOBE!

The semester was coming to a close and as the weather had begun to warm; we finally had a chance to visit The Globe (an open-air theatre), where the great master himself once performed his plays (though it has been rebuilt since, with, strangely enough, mostly American money). The performance: King Lear; we couldn't have been more excited! David Calder was to play Lear and the reviews predicted a spectacular show. The fact that we were actually getting college credit for this was merely a bonus.

The theatre itself was certainly worth the trip, with the theatre divided into layered balcony seating and the open ground, without chairs--each to accommodate a different social class in Shakespeare's time. Ironically, we were sitting off to the side in the lower balcony, were a guildsman, as Shakespeare's father once was, might have sat.

After touring the building (and being concerned about rain until we realised that the thunder we were hearing was being artificially created by the crew) we took our seats and watched the jugglers and acrobats warm up the crowd. But soon the lights lowed and the play began; I was captivated from the start. Calder lived up to his reputation and the rest of the troupe followed suit. The lines 'out, vile jelly' and 'howl, howl, howl' will forever live in my memory as they were performed by Peter Hamilton Dyer and David Calder. It was the perfect end to one of my favorite classes.

A Bit About the ten Woldes

I had such a wonderful time in Holland that I feel as if I need to share a little bit about Roderick's family, the the Woldes, who took such good care of me during my visit. And, of all of my memories of the trip, just sitting at their dinner table, having dinner with them as if I was part of their family, was clearly one of the best.
Roderick's father, Wauter, and his younger brother, Olivier, are voetball professors Leiden University.
His mother, Monique, and grandmother are world-class fitness instructors.

His two sisters, Charlotte and Juliet (picture pending), once former back up singers for Rhianna, have recently signed with P Diddy's label.

And Roderick is the currently employed at Heineken as the vice president of consumption.

All kidding aside, Wauter; Monique; Charlotte; Juliet; Olivier; and last, but not least, Roderick, I thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, for your incredible generousity and warm hospitality. I am forever in your debt for all of your kindness.

Spring Break!!! pt. V

It was one of my last days in Holland, so we made the drive into Den Haag (The Hague) for some final sight-seeing; our first stop: de Vredespaleis (the Peace Palace), on the outskirts of the city. Den Haag has been the primary venue for settling international disputes since 1901, and, since the completion of de Vredespaleis in 1913, it has become a symbol of international law, currently housing the International Court of Justice, the primary judicial branch of the UN. During the past two centuries, so many international disputes have been settled through arbitration behind its brick walls that I had a feeling of reverence as I stood on the hallowed soil outside its gates.

After the awe of seeing de Vredespaleis had worn off, we headed into the center of the city to see the Binnenhof (literally meaning the inner court, aka the parliamentary buildings of The Netherlands) and grab some lunch. Both Roderick and I were fairly 'museumed out' by this point, so after walking around for a bit and stopping at an old cathedral once used as a Nazi headquarters during the German occupation of World War II, we camped out on the terrace of a restaurant on the central plaza with some Heineken and bitterballen to people watch and discuss our plans for the evening.

[The above picture was taken at Club Nautique, the beach restaurant where we ate a great many of our meals, but I felt it important to show a photograph of one of my newfound favorite snacks. And even though I was unable to find a Dutch person who was privy to their ingredients, no one should ever leave The Netherlands without sampling the delicious, deep-fried goodness that is bitterballen.]

We batted around some ideas for a bit, but since we were both so exhausted, we decided that renting a movie might be a more suitable choice for the evening's entertainment.
"The movie, Eurotrip, is playing on the television tonight," Roderick said.
And as I was taking a drink of my frosty Heineken, I was struck with a moment of brilliance.
"Ya know, there's nothing preventing us from taking a Eurotrip this summer," I responded.
A gleam immediately appeared in Roderick's eyes as the smile overcame his face; brilliance had struck him as well.
"There is nothing preventing us from taking a Eurotrip this summer," Roderick shot back.
And it was at that very moment, on the terrace of a small cafe in Den Haag, over Heineken and bitterballen, that Eurotrip '08 was first conceived and we would spend the rest of the evening planning what was to be the grandest roadtrip in all of my existence.

Spring Break!!! pt. IV

We started the day with some more Dutch history and the first stop was the Ruine van Brederode, built in the late thirteenth century. As far as ruins are concerned, the castle is in relatively good shape; there are many walls that are missing and others with massive holes as a result of sustaining repeated cannon fire, but there are still a few towers and rooms that are in tact. As I walked through the ruins, I could see the thickness of the brick walls and imagined what it would have been like to be in such a fortification when under attack. I think it is safe to say that it took many rounds of cannon fire before the structure itself was in any jeopardy.

Next, we headed up to the Panorama Mesdag to see what Holland would have looked like in the late 1800s. We climbed up a few flights of stairs and found ourselves in the center of the panorama, which gave the appearance of being atop a large sand dune, and as I looked around me, I genuinely had the feeling that I was looking out over the beach and the small fishing village of Sheveningen. The cyclorama is greater than 14 meters high and 40 meters in diameter, and the curvature of the canvas creates the three dimensional effect. While the popularity of panoramas was waning when Mesdag painted this masterpiece, it is important to realise that it was painted prior to the rise of photography and this was the closest medium they had to conveying the actual surroundings. Since we were not allowed to photograph in the museum, we went to a giant hilltop, which are quite rare in Holland, and I gazed upon the country from above (third picture from the top-if you enlarge it, you will see the giant windmills on the beach used to power some of the factories).

From there, we headed to a small port city where I ate herring as the old Dutch sailors (and many of the toughest modern sailors as well) once did: raw, all at once, and with a giant Heineken. It was awful, but one hell of an experience!

Later that night, Roderick and I biked into the city (as you can see from the picture, everyone bikes everywhere in Holland!) of Haarlem for some nightlife at de Koning (the king), Roderick's favorite club. And it was here that the most surreal event, in all of my travels to date, occured: The dancefloor had gotten momentarily quite; then, from the giant, booming speakers overhead, I heard the spoken introduction to the 1980s American television drama, The A-Team. At its conclusion, a techno-beat began, and as it increased in speed and volume, the entire dancefloor, in what appeared to be choreographed unison, began jumping up and down, waving their arms and singing-'da, da-da, da; da, da, da; da-dada, da, da; da-dadada, da!" I almost dropped my beverage as I was introduced to the musical genre know only as 'apres ski.'

Spring Break!!! pt. III

About halfway through the week, we got a call from two of our friends in Amsterdam, Sophie (who lives in Amsterdam) and Pauline (who is from Belgium, but was in town visiting), so Roderick and I hopped a train north to the capital city. It was the Queen's birthday so the streets were busier than usual, with a giant fair in the heart of the city. We did some people watching then grabbed a snack and headed to the Van Gogh Museum, something I had been dying to see.

As you may recall, I became quite emamoured with Van Gogh's work after my first experience at the National Gallery in London and the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam certainly does not disappoint. Of course, I was in awe of his better known works and style, but it was also very interesting to see many of the paintings from his earlier years, when he lived in Holland, prior to finding his spirit in impressionism; they are much darker, both in shade and mood, and speak of the plight he witnessed the peasants facing when he was a missionary.

We had lunch outside of the Rijksmuseum (which is still being renovated!), then went back to Sophie's house to relax a bit before the evening's festivities. Sophie's father had given us tickets to an orchestral performance of Elizabeta, and since neither Roderick nor I had ever been to the opera, we weren't entirely sure what to expect.

We arrived in time to see the orchestra warm up and the above picture was taken just before I was told that picture taking was not allowed. The hall was immense, filled with plush red chairs and chandeliers larger than most American cars; it was quite breathtaking.

I had difficulty in following the performance, at first, as I speak neither Italian nor Dutch, so I couldn't exactly understand what they were signing nor could I comprehend the words as they scrolled across the translator in the language native to The Netherlands, but the music was amazing and I soon found myself so absorbed in the incredible sounds coming from the stage that I forgot that I didn't even know what they were signing. I thank you very much, Mr. Dreesmann, for the tickets and Sophie for inviting us; it was an evening that will not soon escape my vivid memory!

Spring Break!!! pt. II

There are very few Americans who are not familiar with the story of the brave little Dutch boy (aka Hans Brinker) who stuck his finger in the dike to save Holland, yet the story is not terribly popular in The Netherlands. And when I mentioned that it was something I would like to see, both Roderick and his father seemed quite astonished. "What is this fascination Americans have with Hans Brinker?" Wauter asked. But no sooner than I made my request, we were making the trek to Spaarndam, where the statue and the giant sluices (the enormous wooden gates used to keep out the water) are located. It would be much later that I learned why Americans are so quick to associate the mythic story with the country whose land is mostly below sea level. It turns out that the story is not actually of Dutch origin, but from a book written by Mary Elizabeth Mapes Dodge, an American author, in the late nineteenth century and, with typical Dutch humour, they provided a statue in which we American tourists can stick our fingers.

But it is with Willem van Oranje (William of Orange) or Willem de Zwijger (William the Silent), leader of the Dutch revolt against the Spanish and founder of the house of Oranje-Nassau, that the real Dutch mythology lies and it wasn't long before we headed south to Delft (the city which produces the famous pottery painted in the colour named after their city- Delft blue) to see his tomb.
We grabbed a quick snack (I had croquettes with spicy mustard, a traditional Dutch treat) next to the town hall (pictured above) in the center of the city, then walked across the plaza to New Church (Nieuwe Kerk) where the tomb is located. The outside of the church is a massive stone structure, left over from the days when it was a Catholic Basillica, with a tower that seems to pierce the sky. Once inside, however, the decorum becomes quite austere, characteristic of Dutch Reform Churches, and the lavish mausoleum stands in stark contrast to the rest of the interior. It was quite beautiful, with white marble and lots of gold trim, yet seemed oddly out of place in a church where iconoclasm was such a great concern. As a student of religious history it was very interesting to see the inside of a Dutch-Reform Church (particulary the one which houses the world's largest pipe organ, clearly separating them from their Calvinist roots) and as a student of Dutch history, it was an absolute must see.

We drove back to Aerdenhout (the city in which the ten Woldes reside) and relaxed for a bit before Roderick and I headed to his uncle's beach restaurant in Zandvoort for dinner. I had gambas (colossal shrimp) that were swimming as recently as that morning and watched the kite surfers as the sun slowly set on the North Sea. It was a fantastic day!

Spring Break!!! pt. I

Spring break was upon us and one of the really nice aspects of studying in England is the ease with which one can travel internationally. And one of the really nice things about studying at St. Clares is that one is studying alongside of students from all over the world; instead of migrating to one of the American beachtowns, as is customary for spring breakers in the states, I chose to visit my good friend, Roderick ten Wolde, in his native land--I was Holland bound!

My Dutch experience had really begun before I had even disembarked the plane. From the air I could see the massive windmills that dot the landscape and this beautiful barrage of colours that seemed to be painted on the soil in the richest hues of red, blue and violet. It wasn't until I got on the ground that I discovered that they were immense tulip farms, something for which Holland is quite famous.

Roderick and his father, Wauter, met me at the airport and one of the first questions out of Wauter's mouth, behind only, "How was your flight," was "So what is it that you wish to see in Holland?"
"I want to experience Dutch culture," I responded and before we had even reached the ten Woldes' residence, we were at the Museum De Cruquius and I was learning the history of the land.

Since the Middle ages, Lake Haarlem (Haarlemmermeer) had been continually expanding and, by the early 1800s, it had expanded to the point of threatening the lands of northeastern Holland, including Amsterdam. The Dutch were faced with a grave decision: either move the cities or move the water. The Dutch, of course, chose the latter, but it is important to realise that this is almost half a century before electricity had been effectively harnessed and there simply wasn't enough land to build enough windmills to move this quantity of water. The solution: the Dutch built the pumping stations of Leeghwater, Lynden and Cruquius, housing the world's largest steam engine (seen below); within three years the lake was dry.



The Dutch take great pride in this incredible feat of land reclamation. The city of Amsterdam and, in fact, approx. one third of the entire Netherlands would now be underwater had it not been for the Dutch perserverance and ingenuity in building these pumping stations. And the excess water that once threatened the country's very existence has been drained into the canals that make the The Netherlands one of the most beautiful countries in the world.

The Oxonian Nightlife

The nightlife found in Oxford is one of my favorites in the world. The city's population is a little under 150K (not so large as to feel isolated, yet large enough that there is plenty to do) and a good many of the people are either students or work at one of the colleges. The top two pictures are from The Bridge (the first one on the dancefloor after one of the last days of school and the second during Abdulla Ayyaf's birthday party in the VIP Lounge), a nightclub renowned for their dancing on Wed. and Sat. nights. The middle two photos are from various Thurs. evenings at Mood, a fairly regular occurence. The Liberal Arts programme at St. Clare's did not schedule classes on Fridays, giving students the opportunity to travel a bit on the weekends, and we would frequently find ourselves at Mood, blowing off steam from the busy week on the dancefloor or relaxing on the leather couches in the VIP Lounge.

There are also, of course, many different pubs from which to choose as well, each with their own character and group of regulars who are quick to teach you some Cockney, pub etiquette, or attempt (and I do mean attempt) to explain the game of Cricket (I am still not sure that I entirely understand the game). Six Bells was across the way from the Manor and quickly became my favorite. The locals are very friendly and the staff makes you feel like a regular the second time you duck through the doorway.
The region is also home to ample plays (Shakespearean or otherwise) and musicals to suit any taste, and Carla, the student activities coordinator, can get you tickets to just about anything, at a significantly reduced price, and often times she will even give you a ride to and from the event in one of the St. Clare's vans. My favorite musical, this term, was unquestionably Ave. Q, which I saw in London, a mere hour and a half busride away (I still laugh out loud when I think about some of the songs); Stomp was a blast, (though my hands still hurt the next day from clapping-the cast was very good at getting audience participation) and I met my Belgium friends during the performance, so it will always hold a place in my heart; and I really enjoyed the spirit of the French Revolution found in Les Miserables (though I felt that at any moment Celine Dion would jump out from behind the curtain and Javert was going to stab both her and Jean Valjean for signing too much, but the girls all seemed to enjoy it).
Oxford is also a city known for its cultural diversity (I do not recall a time when I heard any less than five different languages in the city center) and their are many ethnic restaurants from which to choose. In fact, St. Clare's sponsored a number of dinners throughout the term where I met many students from other programmes, some of whom have become very good friends. And if none of these are your bag, the University has clubs, debates and lectures almost every night of the week. Needless to say, there is always something to do in Oxford!

More Shakespeare, Please

I cannot emphasise how much I have really enjoyed my Shakespeare course at St. Clare's this term. Not only do I find the material fascinating when it is viewed in the context of new historicism, but the regular field trips to live performances (which are aplenty in this part of the world!) add a dimension to the study that I would be unable to find anywhere else. Our second outing was to The North Wall, one of Oxford's local theatres, to see Measure for Measure, my soon-to-be favorite of all the Shakespearean plays. The play was set in modern times, a style in which I am normally not a fan, but I must say, it worked incredibly well. Instead of detracting from the theme of the play, as I find anachronisms so frequently do, it lent to my amusement of the play as pure, unadulterated satire. Instead of getting caught up in the language of the play, I was caught up in the tone, which, to me, if directed properly, is the underlying message of the entire play. The cast was phenomenal and the direction was, in my opinion, SPOT ON! I cannot recommend this play, or this class, any more highly!

A Taste of Saudi Arabia

It was my brother Abdullah Almousa's birthday and as he is so often the life of the party, it was sure to be an evening of fun for all. We began at Al Shami restaurant for a feast of Middle Eastern cuisine and I had difficulty in putting down my fork even after I had eaten well beyond my full. The presents came next alongside of the flakey, delicious sweets for which the culture is known, but it was the last part of the ritual for which I was completely unprepared--all of a sudden, all of the men got up and began clapping and singing along to the Arabic music in the background. And as the volume and clapping increased, the dancing began; at one point, they even picking up Abdullah and began carrying him around in a circle. Soon everyone had joined in, in wishing Abdullah a fantastic birthday; it was truly a memorable evening. Happy Birthday, my brother; I am richer for knowing you!

Back 2 London

Another Saturday was upon us, which, of course, meant another St. Clare's sponsored excursion: this time it was back to London for a day of art history. We spent the first half of the day at the Tate Modern Art Gallery, and while I have never fancied myself as a modern art enthusiast, the chance to see some of the famous works in person was too great to pass up. The Warhol's left me a bit flat and the two 'half tables' glued together to form one 'whole table' seemed as pointless as voting for a third party candidate in an American election, but I enjoyed seeing a Picasso for the first time and the Lichtenstein's were quite extraordinary--very large and vibrant, with each piece its own satire of modern culture--they alone were worth the outing.

We broke for lunch around 1:00 and grabbed a quick snack next to Covent Garden before heading to The National Gallery (above Trafalgar Square), the main reason I came along on this outing. I had taken an art history course, the year prior, and was informed by my former instructor that if I returned from England without seeing the 'Arnolfini Portrait,' by Van Eyck, I would no longer be in her good graces (you were right, Kathleen, the textures are incredible and I spent about a half an hour staring into the little painted mirror). It was also my first chance to see a Raphael, a Leonardo, a Rembrandt, a Caravaggio, a Monet, or a Botticelli in person, and I was not dissappointed in the least (particularly by the intense mood of Caravaggio's works), but it was the Van Gogh's that truely blew me away. I was absolutely enthralled with his 'Chair' and felt overtaken by a mesmorising calm as I looked onto 'A Wheatfield, with Cypresses.' The intesity of the blue hues painted in the clouds, the mountain and blended into the shrubbery left me in awe and I would not be lying if I told you that I could have spent all day staring at that one piece. This was my first experience with Van Gogh, and, as you will read in subsequent blog entries, it will not be my last. I was hooked.

Shakespeare in Stratford

One of my favorite classes this semester has unquestionably been my upper level Shakespeare course. The class consists of four students and the professor, Nick (B.A. York, M.A. Sorbonne, D.Phil Cambridge-wow!), is outstanding. Last Thursday he took us to Stratford (Shakespeare's hometown) to see Henry VI part II. He gave us a quick tour of the town--where Shakespeare was born, his house, his resting place, and some history about what his upbringing would have been like--then we headed to The Dirty Duck for some pre-theatre refreshments; the next stop: The Courtyard Theatre.

We had fantastic seats and the play was spectacular! I knew that it had gotten great reviews, but I was unprepared to be absolutely mesmerised throughout the entire play; this was, after all, Henry VI part II, quite possibly the driest of all Shakespearean plays. The cast was phenomenal with Margaret stealing the show (though I was truly blown away during Henry's big soliloquy) and the troupe held the audience's attention during the less than exciting moments by pulling people on stage and making them part of the act. At one point, they pulled a very nervous young man on stage and began rummaging through his bag. When encountering a copy of Richard III, the actor promptly claimed to have seen it, that it was shit, and ordered the poor student's head to be chopped off; I had difficulty regaining my composure until the scene ended. It was an evening that I will never forget.

Stonehenge and Bath

St. Clare's sponsored yet another trip for us (I really love this college); this time, to Stonehenge and Bath. I had heard that Stonehenge was overrated but I found (though it has become quite touristy) it to be a very spiritual place. The site was built some 6k years ago over a period of stages. The Sarsen stones (the larger stones) were quarried from the Marlborough Downs 19 miles away and the Bluestones (the smaller stones) are from the mystical Preseli Mountains of Wales, over 240 miles away; scholars are still in much debate as to how this feat was accomplished. As you can see from the second picture, the henge seems to have a strange effect upon gravity.
While Jane Austin fans will, no doubt, be familiar with the town of Bath, I am afraid I was quite oblivious to its existence prior to this trip. In the heart of the city lies the stone remains of an ancient Roman Bath dedicated to Minerva (the Roman goddess of wisdom [Gr.-Athena]). The spring which feeds the bath is a tepid 88 degrees (F) and no picture I could take would capture the hierophanic effect that the steam from the bath mixed with the echoing of the Minervan Priest's sermon can have--It was spectacular! The final stop of the bath is a water bar where you can sample a glass fresh from the spring. I must tell you that it was horrific (it was warm [obviously] and it tasted like someone had boiled an egg in it), but I couldn't justify not sampling it.

Toolin 'Round the Town

After a week of non-stop rain, the weather finally broke and the sun reappeared in the sky; we decided to explore the city. We meandered through a few brick allyways surrounded by towering stone structures and found ourselves confronted with Christ Church. The spectacle itself is quite awe-inspiring, but its prominence in the literary community is even more impressive. Not only were the dining scenes of Harry Potter filmed in the cathedral, but the characters and themes of Carrol's Alice in Wonderland were inspired by the stained glass and shrubbery within the building. We eventually ended up at Turf Tavern for some lunch. The Turf is known for their incredible ale selection and it seems to be a regular stop for world leaders. The queen, of course, has tipped a few Turf style and ex-president Clinton was once a regular. But I think my favorite story about the Turf is that the former prime minister of Australia actually set a world record for downing a yard in 11.5 seconds. While the girls opted for a more continental fare consisting of wine and salad, I decided to go native with a pint of Old Speckled Hen and some bangers and mash. I did not, however, attempt to break any records.

The Blackfriars Experience

While there are many reasons why I chose to study at St. Clare's, the highlight of my educational experience has been the Blackfriar's tutorial. There are six of us who have been awarded the opportunity to study at Oxford University. It is very challenging, but I am in constant amazement as to how much I am learning. Each week we are assigned to read somewhere between two to five hundred pages, write a 2500 word essay, then defend it for an hour, one on one, with our professor. We also have been granted access to the Bodleian Library, which houses every book ever published in the UK. The 'swearing in ceremony' is quite a ritual, occuring in a part of the library where Parliament was once held. I must say that it was a bit overwhelming, but I really enjoyed sitting in the thrown.
It is not all work and no play, however, the bottom photo is with my tutor, Fr. Peter, at the Hilary term dinner with the friars. It consisted of a six course meal and excellent conversation. We capped the evening at The King's Arms, an Oxford tradition.

A Bit About Hampden Manor

Hampden Manor is located just outside of Oxford's city limits in Old Kidlington, the oldest village in all of England (the name, Kidlington, comes from kid, meaning young lamb, and ling, meaning fish -- the town of lamb and fish). The manor has a long history, with parts of it built in the 12th century. As the title, manor, indicates, it was originally built to house a nobleman and his family, but it has been renovated into a number of flats that St. Clare's uses to house some of its students. There is a famous painting by William Yeames depicting a young boy being questioned as to his father's whereabouts during the Civil War that
is said to have been set in this very manor.

A Saturday in London

On the first weekend, St. Clare's chartered a bus and took us to London. We began the day at the British Museum. Some of the highlights were the Rosetta Stone (of course), the Ancient Athens wing, a fragment of the Stella from Hammurabi's Code, and the Terracotta Warriors exhibit. After the museum, we had some fish and chip and proceeded to take a walking tour of the area, spending a fair amount of time in Covent Garden. We saw Buckingham Palace, St. Steven's Tower (the home of Big Ben), and the London Eye.

Opening Ceremonies

The first few days were a bit of a whirlwind. After giving us a walking tour of the campus and the city center, St. Clare's kicked off the semester with a welcoming dinner at St. Hilda's College of Oxford. St. Hilda's is located on the banks of a tributary to the Thames and the greens are absolutely spectacular. I met my flatmates and a number of other international students at the college over wine and beef burgundy. We finished the evening at Eagle and Child, a favorite pub of both C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien. It was a wonderful way to begin my semester in Oxford.