The Candy Shop

It's Sunday night, although currently there's not distinction between the days of the week. I'm reasonably well settled in now, been grocery shopping, cooked my first meal, done my first load of laundry, walked enough of the Oxford city map to feel confident and most importantly, met both my tutors and been assigned my first batch of work. During a Wadham hosted welcome dinner one tutor brought along a couple books he thought his student might find of interest. As she held them out before her in rueful admiration, we crowded around for what the books represented: the first veritable Oxford homework (yes, we are excited about this!). I've found Oxford to be a candy shop of delights, both aesthetically and academically. For people interested in the exchange of ideas and who find learning riveting, not to mention history, this is a sweetshop galore. The hall of Wadham is older than our country. Getting our tutors' names was like Christmas morning, with rather cruel parents: the moment kept getting delayed!

I am an anglophile. Thus, I am delighted that it is entirely appropriate for me to have included "tea" in the title of this blog. We've had one afternoon tea at Wadham, a spread the likes of which will certainly spoil any but the lightest of dinners. While in London, my friend and I had cream tea in the conservatory of an ivy and brick hotel in a quiet area of Bloomsbury. The cream was the thickest I've ever seen it, much closer to the consistency of butter in actuality.

London. I've been there before, but not this late in the year, and we started the day at the Tower of London right by the river. I was right in my prediction: I am already freezing, and usually in twice the layers everyone else is wearing. I go to bed in fuzzy socks and a sweatshirt. The warmth of hot tea though is always a wonderful excuse to indulge.

London is unequivocally one of my favorite cities. I love its broad tree lined streets, row houses, and friendly squares as much as I do its narrow and quaint alleys, its bustle and quiet, the sheer history the lines the streets. We visited the British museum and the treasure room of the British Library, one of my favorite sites in London. I know, it's not on the list of the top attractions, but it does contain in its understated way manuscripts from the Beatles to Jane Austen, Virginia Woolf, Thomas Hardy, and early printings and rare editions of Bibles, even the Magna Carta. And it's free! Thank the lord for the free museums (the British museum has been free since 1753). Can you believe a single ride on the subway is 4 pounds? Luckily this seems to include as many transfers as one wishes since this past weekend was full of planned repair work that closed two entire lines and several stations, forcing me to play any number of connect the "dots".

Among our many adventures in cultural adaptation: blowing the fuse and knocking the lights out for the night in our apartment. I'm not sure why, since the girl had a universal appliance and a plug adapter... Well, it forced me to bed early (I was reading when the lights went out).

Finally, I have been pleasantly taken aback by the exceedingly warm welcome Wadham has extended towards us. Please don't mistake this for me thinking we would not receive one at all. Rather, everyone I have met or who has been introduced to the program so far has gone quite far out of their way, in my opinion, to make us feel not only welcome, but a genuine and valued part of the community. While I did not sit down beforehand to ponder our reception, I suppose my surprise indicates that in retrospect I expected to feel akin to an extraneous limb. So far, this is not at all the case.

Hello Visa

The past week has reinforced two things: 1), I stress out easily, and 2), I like to be in (some) control of the situation, thus why homework related stress does not mature into panic. I drove my family (and probably some friends) up the wall as I freaked out about my visa, now a sentence comfortably in the past tense. Since I traveled to Japan this summer, I had to apply upon my return which meant that my complete application was submitted exactly 4 weeks before my departure date. Theoretically this should not be a problem. I heard that other people on this program received theirs within one or two weeks, so for 2 weeks I was able to relax and only perk up slightly at the sound of delivery trucks on the street. When I did attempt to confirm my application's status I realized that they had not started processing it, and in fact it is actually impossible to talk to someone about it, either through email or on the phone. At this point I doubt whether it would be possible to speak to someone in person should you physically go to the consulate. It exists in a space out of the reach of modern technology (quite a feat nowadays) and surely carrier pigeons and smoke signals would be lost to the LA skyline.
In retrospect, I expended too much energy panicking, but in a position where I could do nothing about it, freaking out seemed to follow. However, they can move quickly when so necessary. They processed my application Saturday, issued the visa Monday, sent it Tuesday (a week before I was to leave) and I got it Wednesday, shiny and official.
Throughout the summer, people have been asking me if I was excited for Oxford, but the visa application made me look forward with apprehension, not anticipation. There was confusion over the process: the online application required a certain form which SLC said was unnecessary. It was unclear whether I needed to submit my old passport as well as my current one. The consulate in LA which I was obligated to go through had a backlog of applications dating from August because they are updating their IT system (whoopee). I met an old friend by chance who told me she got her passport the morning of her flight to Japan. A fellow SLC friend forgot to submit a passport photo with her application and the consulate sent it back two weeks before we had to go (and yet ironically, she got her visa before I did). Finally, albeit not chronologically so, the biomedtric exam was simply bizarre. In the back where the fingerprints are taken, no one talked. The man in charge of me mimed what he wanted me to do and pointed at signs with the appropriate instructions. Your fingers have to be limber and relaxed; mine were too stiff and so silently he tsked, shook his head, wagged his own fingers and shook his hands as though flinging off grungy dishwater.
However, I was productive in my stress! I sorted through piles and bags of old papers no longer necessary to keep. I couldn't escape the feeling though that several years down the road I will be doing the same again, this time with all my college notes and handouts.
Now I am almost packed, and yes, eagerly anticipating Oxford. It's difficult to fill the suitcases even though it really shouldn't be. After all, I've had to pack up and move across country twice a year for the past two years. This feels more drastic though, an exercise in haphazardly predicting the future following the formula "chilly for others means freezing for me."

An ugly truth

I thought about calling this a disclaimer, but why should I employ semantics to avoid the truth? Instead, this is a warning occasioned by my poor skills at regularly updating or responding. Until I condition myself to think of updating this blog as proper procrastination for the papers I should be writing, posts might be few on the ground. That being said though, I hope you'll continue to check periodically and enjoy my year with me.

Caitlin