Why Can't I Feel My Toes?

My first serious winter campout as a Boy Scout (I believe it was January 2000) featured snow, wind, and a young scout (yours truly) who didn’t realize that only one pair of loose, thick socks will not keep one’s toes warm in temperatures so cold that your snot freezes before it has a chance to completely drip out of your nose. Combine this lack of basic survival knowledge with a pre-campout briefing during which the dangers of frostbite were emphasized, and you get a panic-stricken sixth-grader who runs to the scout leaders sobbing when his toes go numb after about an hour. Fortunately, after sitting next to the fire getting my toes vigorously rubbed by one of the leaders for about ten minutes, I promptly went to my tent and put on a pair of tight, wick-away socks under my thick ones, and my feet were fine from then on.

This story crossed my mind yesterday morning when my toes went numb as I was sitting in a boat in the middle of the Thames and wondering why I signed up to row crew. I quickly pacified myself with the thought that it was a beautiful morning (as you can see from the photo below, taken from right outside my college's boathouse – you can kind of make out the mist on the river) and I was rowing at Oxford, so I really didn’t have anything to complain about.

And I apologize once again to all my loyal readers for not having anything to say sooner. Life here has settled into a rhythm, where I get up at about 8:30, go to the library, work until 5:00 or so (with a liberal dose of procrastination thrown in), and then go off to an evening activity (including crew two nights a week) or do more work. It’s thrilling, to say the least. However, I will keep you all updated as more fun and fascinating stuff happens (and I’ll make more of an effort, I promise).

I'm Back!

So, it's been two-and-a-half weeks since I posted anything, and in that time I've done quite a bit, of which I'll now give you the highlights. I promise to be more diligent in updating this thing in the future; it's just that I've really been trying to settle into life here over the past couple weeks and with the workload, I haven't really had the time to write. Anyway, that said, here's what I've been up to:

LONDON

Last weekend I took a trip with my buddy Tom (whose blog on Grenada, Spain I highly recommend) to the beautiful city of London. In trying to picture England's capital, think New York traffic, but on the wrong side of the road, minus the skyscrapers and with a lot more limestone Victorian buildings. It was remarkable, to say the least, and the best part was, Tom and I got to see a huge chunk of the city because our hotel was about a three mile walk from anything. After an early dinner, we walked down to Piccadilly Circus (once again, Times Square without the...well, you get the idea) and, since it was seven o'clock, everything was naturally closed, so we settled on seeing a show (on a side note, it's amazing how early this country shuts down - all the stores close at six during the week and earlier on the weekends). We wandered into a random theater on the Circus, and, with our student ID's, got cheap fourth row seats to The Thirty-Nine Steps, a stage adaptation of the 1936 Alfred Hitchcock film/1915 John Buchan novel. A "quick-change" show, it featured four cast members, three of whom played multiple roles, often at the same time, and was a light-hearted way to spend the evening (for Rogers and Hammerstein fans, the female lead was the same actress who played Laurie in the 1999 adaptation of Oklahoma! starring Hugh Jackman...just a fun fact). It was fantastic, and if you can't make it to London, you can see it on Broadway, where it recently picked up a couple Tony Awards.

The other highlight of the London excursion was my first full English breakfast, eaten at a random corner restaurant that Tom noticed the night before while walking back to the hotel after the show. For those of you who aren't aware of the contents of such a meal, it consists of two "rashers" of bacon (slabs of what looks like pink fatty ham), two sausages, a fried egg, baked beans, and toast. The best part, I have to say, were the beans, although had I opted for black pudding that might have topped the list (not). It really made me feel like one of the locals, and the place we were in was indeed filled with construction workers, little old ladies in spandex and floral print shirts, and guys who looked like their job might have consisted of ripping holes in denim and applying copious amounts of hair gel. Like I said, a highlight.

MAGDALEN CHAPEL

Prior to leaving America, I was told by one of my professors that I had to attend one of the Evensong services at Magdalen (pronounced "Maudlin") Chapel, the church at the college of the same name (virtual tour here), and Wednesday night, I was sitting in my room with nothing to do. So, completely on a whim I figured, Hey, why not? and at quarter-til-six I walked up the street, over Magdalen Bridge and went to church.

I had a feeling I was in for a good time from the moment I got into the chapel. First of all, the sun was almost set and they didn't have any overhead lights on, so the place was dark. The only light came from candles in the middle bank of stalls (in Anglican churches the congregation sits facing each other in stalls, which are arranged in a row down the sides of the church), which it turned out were for the choir, and little bulbs over the long, bench-like podiums in front of each seat so that the congregation could read the order of service. Very cool.

At a few minutes before six the prelude began to play, and, looking at the order of service, I read, "All remain seated when the Choir enters. All then stand when the clock has struck." Sure enough, the choir came in, the prelude stopped right in the nick of time, and we all sat there in silence while the clock struck six times. After the sixth bell, everyone stood up and the service began.

Now, at this point I was thinking, This can't get any better, but, sure enough, it did, because the choir began singing. I didn't realize that the choir consisted of students from Magdalen College School, the boys boarding school down the street, which meant that seven-year-olds were singing the soprano and alto parts while older, high school aged guys sang the men's parts. I'd never heard an all-male choir before, and from the first chord they hit, I felt like I was in heaven, and I stayed there for thirty minutes.

Over the past four days I've tried to figure out what it was, whether the candle-lit ambience, the music, or the fact that I hadn't been to a church service that really moved me since, well, a while ago, but that half hour Wednesday was a truly profound spiritual experience. I think I can safely recommend it to anyone who wants to experience something cool in Oxford (it's open to the public), even if it doesn't move you like it did me.

CHAMPAGNE AND CHOCOLATES

I'd like to close with the event that I attended Friday night at my college known as "Champagne and Chocolates." It's based on really quite a simple concept: get dressed up, go into the chapel with 200 other people, and eat chocolate/get drunk on champagne until they run out. I got to wear black-tie for the first time since coming here, and standing there in a gothic building drinking champagne while wearing a shawl lapel tuxedo kiiiinda made me feel like James Bond. Adding to the festive atmosphere were multiple acts of drunken Public Displays of Affection (in none of which I partook, for the record), which seem to be considerably less taboo over here than in America. In addition, other Americans were running around snapping photos left and right, so naturally I happened to get caught in some candid shots, like the one above, taken with my friend Ally, another Holy Cross visiting student. All in all, it was a worthwhile evening, and one of the social highlights of the term thus far.

* * *

Well, that's all I've got for now, though I'll be sure to keep you updated as I continue my year abroad in Merry Olde England. Until next time, cheers.

Mr. Smith Goes to Hogwarts

Today I took a walk around Christ Church, the college where numerous scenes from the Harry Potter series have been filmed. I felt like a VIP since I got to use the "University Members Only" entrance to the college and got to walk around the quad in places where visitors aren't allowed, though this feeling was promptly cut short by the porter at that entrance. The man, dressed the in Christ Church porter's uniform of a navy blue overcoat and a bowler hat, seemed to be about 70, and thoroughly enjoyed giving me a long list of prohibitions, including "No pictures, no standing in the quad" and the (I think) sarcastic "No eating the grass, no fishing and no breathing." I stood there dumbfounded, seeing as I've never been quite sure how to respond to mocking without displaying behavior that merits further mockery. He finally left me alone, and I was free to walk around the quad, Christ Church Cathedral, and the Hogwarts Great Hall. I don't have any pictures of the quad (though there is a virtual tour here - just click in the center of the quad), but I can say that it was immaculately groomed, as it should be, considering no one is allowed to walk across it.

The cathedral was large and in charge, and has to be experienced to be appreciated. I also wasn't sure about photos in there, and the air of snobbery that seemed to permeate the place prevented me from meekly asking permission (though once again you can view the tour). Then there was the Great Hall. I've included these photos, which are taken from the end of the hall and the center, respectively. The front tables were all laid out for a reception (hence the video screen), and a sign at the entrance clearly stated that visitors were not allowed to sit at the tables. Like the cathedral, it kind of has to be experienced, but I will say that it made me wish I were a Christ Church student. As you can see, portraits of famous Christ Church patrons line the wood-paneled walls, and at the head of the hall there is a large portrait of Henry VIII, the king when the college was founded. It was cool, and very Oxfordish, to say the least.