Reflections on Oxbridge

Over three weeks ago, I crossed the Atlantic for the first time. Nine days later - after touring London with a resolve (almost) undaunted by jet lag - I commenced a month long academic program at Oxford University. I have been here for nineteen nights and will remain for seven more. This drastic deviation from my usual, languid summers at Pasley Island was formulated last September - when I essentially decided to compact half of my bucket into one month. “Oxbridge,” as the program is dubbed, allows students from all over the world to board at a prestigious college and study a subject of their choice. I opted - naturally - for creative writing and literature. Each comprises of a medley of lectures, workshops, field trips, and group discussions - all spearheaded by passionate, and adept teachers. Although a good chunk of the day consists of these two classes, we also have ample free time to tour the city and “socialize.” Luckily for me, England not only boasts nonpareil tea, but also a rich, literary history. Already, I have seen more landmarks than ever in my fifteen years - George Eliot grave, Keats house, the Bodelian library, Shakespeare’s globe theatre, and Highclere castle are among some of the highlights. Likewise, this program has also propelled me very far away of my comfort zone - which is generally perceived as being rather small. Some of the substantial hurdles include routine socializing, sharing my stories with some fifteen strangers, and spending over a week away from home. Much more impressive then four measly nights ams Keats Camp - which, incidentally, is a mere five minute boat ride to Pasley. Definitely not on the other side of the globe.

Speaking of Pasley, loosing one month usually devoted to precious island time has been a true sacrifice. It sounds ludicrous to elect two, languid months at a island about twenty minutes away from home over Oxford - but there is something almost sacred about our summers there, which I can even deem to be the pinnacle of each year. However, even if I do not end up enjoying my time here - and continue covertly counting down the days ( seven left) - it will indubitably be a experience. One, also, I am not likely to forgot - and, even now when face timing everyone back home, or composing letters to my grandmother, makes a good story.

Here is a general run through of my day:

7:20: I wake after a somewhat decent sleep and prepare for breakfast - ensuring, even beyond my book, or peppermints (two utter neccisties), I bring my lanyard when I leave the room. I am currently housed in what is called “the island,” which is a cluster of buildings separated by a rather sketchy alleyway from the college. To enter, one needs to unlock a archaic-looking gate with a card worn around their necks. My individual stairway - essentially a apartment building - also requires yet another key to open. The first night her, neither my key, nor anyones elses, worked, and, after much deliberation, one girl had to climb through a open window - very unfortunate, particularly since most were jet lagged . Finally, after venturing up three flights of extremely steep and narrow stairs, I must then unlock my room door with a separate key. As evident, it is quite the process, and I have to remember to bring everything with me when I leave.

7:45: Breakfast in a beautiful, Harry Potter style hall - generally, I am among the first one there and thus have easy access to my habitual toast, tea, orange juice, and cereal. After a second cup of Earl Grey (with milk and sugar,) I depart at 8:15 and return to my room. Depending on the day, I either journal, read, compose letters, or attempt to catch a few minutes of sleep before my major class begins.

9:00: Creative writing commences. Every couple of days or so, we focus on one, key theme - exploring (so far) character development, descriptions, the root of inspiration, dystopian, and sci-fi. Each afternoon, we are assigned a corresponding short story to write and read out loud the next morning, where we then receive some feedback. This takes about an hour, and then, from 10 to 12, we have a medley of class discussions, field trips, and the occasional guest speaker. Already, our class has frequented the Tolkien exhibit, botanic gardens, and natural history museum.

12:00. Lunch. Here, students are expected to fend for themselves, and attempt to unearth a “buddy” to venture into town with. There are a vast array of different restaurants one can choose one - including some very English looking cafes - but the majority of kids opt, inexplicably, for spots such as Five Guys, or McDonalds. After enduring these restaurants - along with more adventurous cuisine such as ramen and Lebenese meals that, for a picky eater, are very difficult to muster - I have now found a group that populates places more along the lines of Pret a Manger, a cafe mainly frequented for it’s inexpensiveness. My diet, thus, consists of chocolate croissants, tea, overpriced chocolate milkshakes, and tomato soup.

1:30: Every second day, we have our minors; a second, less intensive course. I chose “Literature and the Fantastic” which hones in on C.S Lewis, Lewis Carol, J.R.R Tolkein, Phillip Pullmen and other Oxford writers - all of whom oddly opted for the same genre - fantasy. These lessons, although shorter, have the same aspects as our majors. We also read out loud fragments from novels, create our own monsters and heroes, as while as drink lots of tea at various picturesque cafes.

3:30: This program gives students ample freedom to explore the city, or merely do our “own thing.” Though, to visit town, we always need to be accompanied by a friend. Very difficult when, like me, one wants to buy a jug of milk at the grocery store, or have high tea. Fortunately, activities - such as punting, or guest lecturers - are also organized for all those interested, enabling me to immerse myself in Oxford culture. Along with reading on a solitary bench in the the second quad, I also divide my time between completing homework, doing laundry, and face timing everyone back home. During Sunday, or days without minors, we have more time to, for example, play volleyball in Christ Church Meadows, or venture to the Covered Market.

6:00: Dinner kicks of with a extremely long line - and usually consists of some questionable vegetables, meat, potatoes, yorkshire pudding, lukewarm water, and (fortunately) plain pasta. This is a relatively uneventful twenty minutes, and, besides remembering to check in, is pretty straightforward. Afterwards, I head out for a coveted chocolate milkshake at G&D’s, or merely sit in the third quad, pretending to socialize. After a mug of Green Tea, or perhaps a quick excursion along the river, I typically sit in the JCR waiting for check in.

9:00: Following the second sign in, I head to my room to firstly read, then FaceTime home, where images of Pasley inflict nostalgia before bed. Lights out occurs last eleven, though I am typically sleeping before then. And with that, my day ends

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