Romance and BRomance (Malta and Copenhagen)

These past two weekends were both lovely, but couldn't have been more opposite in pretty much every way. The company, climate, colors, and other alliterative things were all completely antithetical, so this blog post will probably have more ups and downs than an episode of reality television.

(Oh, and in between these two bookend weekends happened to be a take-home quantitative methods examination that took up pretty much every minute of the three days I did spend in Oxford last week, so forgive me again for the tardiness of this post)

So, back to the fun stuff. Joe and I decided some time ago that a much better alternative to throwing away money on Christmas and Valentine's Day presents was to pool our resources and throw it all away on a weekend trip to a warmer climate in the middle of term...hence Malta! I know it's a rather obscure destination, so don't be embarrassed if you've never heard of it. You see, it's right here (next to that big red arrow):

and it's a country composed of two small islands that have been conquered and reconquered by so many civilizations seeking strategic naval advantages over the course of history that they've developed a rich and colorful culture. It also doesn't hurt that it's just about as close to the Equator as you can get on cheap Ryanair flights and that its recent accession to the EU has brought an explosion of investment and growth to the place!

So anyway, a typically early (3:45 am) bus ride to the airport and a three hour flight was all it took to emerge into bright Mediterranean sunlight and temperatures of almost 70 degrees. I have only felt like kissing the ground a few times in my life, and the first steps out of the airport was definitely in the top five among them. Although the bus ride to our apartment was long, bumpy, and (almost) uncomfortably warm, we spent the whole time glued to the window, taking in the palm trees and cacti, as well as the many building clustered tightly and scenically around hills down to the water.

We could barely make ourselves stay in the apartment long enough to drop off our things before we set out to walk and explore. We stopped to take several pictures, and had time to see churches, climb ruins of old forts, and even eat "pastizzi" (traditional Maltese phyllo pastry filled with ricotta cheese) before the setting sun brought English memories back to light and convinced us that it was time for our Valentine's Day dinner. We found a little restaurant with huge windows over one of the harbors, and had a candlelit dinner that tasted even better because it was cheaper than any other we'd had in our European travels.

After dinner, I had promised Joe that his other Valentine's Day present would be to binge watch the new season of House of Cards, so we spent a large chunk of the night watching the continued nefariousness of Frank Underwood and friends.

The next morning, we'd decided to do a bit of an atypical tour of the island. First, we took a bus about 10 kilometers to Fort Rinella, a British 19th century bastion that boasted the largest gun in the world (100 tons) at the beginning of World War I. I indulged Joe's love for British history for several hours, and even took a picture of the big guns (and the cannon, too!):

Afterward, rather than getting back on the bus, we took off jogging and wound our way through the streets to Valletta, one of the other waterfront fortresses/cities we wanted to explore. With a few inadvertent detours, it was about 5 miles, and we were both ready for a good hearty lunch before walking the winding streets and ducking in and out of old churches and museums. We stayed there pretty much all afternoon, and snapped a photo together before sitting down to watch the sun set over the island.

Then we got dinner and headed back home to watch more House of Cards and crash. The next day, we'd planned to go to Mdina, one of the oldest areas of the island perched on top of a tall central hill. It's called "The Silent City", and it really does seem that the narrow streets eat up all sound, so we strolled in silence for some time, enjoying the sun and the little nooks and crannies we discovered:

Fun fact about Mdina: it's also one of the sites where Paul was held in prison on his way to stand trial to Rome. They now charge a ridiculous entrance fee for what is essentially a cellar, but we still went by it to say that we'd seen it.

Right around the time we were getting hungry for lunch, we found a restaurant built into the city walls, with probably the most gorgeous views I've ever enjoyed while eating a sandwich. Even with my camera's panorama setting, I don't think it really does the scene justice.

We lazed our way through lunch and coffee, both basking in the direct sunlight for the first time in months. Unfortunately, my skin has gotten much less resilient to such basking over the course of my time in grey, rainy England, and by the end of the meal, I could feel my shoulders practically sizzling. Although it was definitely painful the next day, I can honestly say that I've never been more excited about a sunburn in my entire life...I've never had occasion to be!

We tried in vain to find a bus to take us back to Sliema, the city where we were staying and also where I'd booked Joe's surprise Valentine's gift: a Thai massage at a place on the beach. Due to the problems of public transport, however, we showed up late, and his hour-long surprise was cut in half. Considering I can never fool him and he hadn't figured out what this particular surprise was, I still chalked it up as a victory, and used the extra money we'd saved to buy us dinner at a pizza place overlooking the harbor, where we watched the last sun we'd see in a while set.

The next morning, we headed off to the airport, and then landed all too soon back in soupy British fog and temperatures hovering in the high 30's. All week though, even in the midst of my crazy exam work, I could still feel the Maltese sun on my shoulders...that is, until they started peeling and itching incessantly :)

Due to a combination of unpacking, repacking, examtaking, and attending meetings and class, my three days in Oxford sped by at seemingly the same speed as the three hours of sleep I snagged on Thursday before dragging myself out of bed for another early morning bus (2 am this time). As I mentioned above, my next trip was a sharp contrast to the romantic Mediterranean getaway: I was off to Copenhagen, the chilly Scandanavian haven of expensive food and Nordic history, with Joe and 4 of our other guy friends. Needless to say, we made a funny picture walking around:

Although, on a related note, I would like to point out that we probably wouldn't have any photographic evidence of our endeavors had it not been for me constantly snapping funny pictures of us walking around!

We arrived in Copenhagen late morning, and found our way to our hostel, where we all took some good naps to muster the energy needed to strike off and walk around the city. Along the way, we passed Rosenborg Castle:

the botanical gardens (not shown because nothing blooms in February), and more than one Danish bakery, where we all ate some delicious pastries. One of the guys tried to keep a straight face while ordering a "Danish" from the bewildered Danish woman working the counter, but eventually broke into laughter and we all ordered winerbroden, which are basically cinnamon buns made with phyllo pastry.

We finally found our way to Nyhavn (Danish for "new harbor"), one of the most famously scenic areas of Copenhagen, and the pushoff site for a boat tour, which we promptly jumped on. After we'd finished the hourlong boatride that was pretty but mostly inaudible due to ridiculously loud engine noise, I snapped a photo of the very Dutch-looking canal before we headed back on the long walk to a restaurant we'd heard about near our hostel.

Kate's Joint, as it was called, ended up having a delicious Indian buffet for a price that was dirt cheap by Danish standards (and passable by ours). Although I didn't eat an inordinate amount, the men on the trip certainly did, and I'd venture that we lost the restaurant money on the deal. After the walking and the huge dinner, we were all more than happy to head back to the hostel and absolutely pass out from exhaustion.

The next morning, we woke up early to go for a run, and then showered before venturing back out into the city to take part in a free walking tour. Despite being jarred by both the cold temperatures and the revelation that the tour would take three hours, we weathered both adversities for an hour and a half, and did learn and see many things. For example, the oldest street in Copenhagen is young by European standards (1795), due to a series of fires that razed the entire city three times in the 18th century.

The new knowledge had no way of keeping us warm, however, so we eventually peeled off to huddle over coffee and tea at a cafe before getting crepes for a late lunch. We then wandered through the National Museum of Denmark and a nearby art gallery before getting dinner at a kabob shop and having a camp-style night of playing cards and listening to music....I'm completely serious; you can't make this stuff up. After copious amounts of rummy, BS, and Presidents, we once again curled up in our hostel bunkbeds.

The next morning, four of us had decided to venture outside of the rather small city center of Copenhagen. It's only 30 minutes by train to Helsingor, the site of Kronborg Castle...better known as Elsinore in Shakespeare's "Hamlet", and arguably the most famous representation of Denmark. The trip through the countryside was gorgeous, and we arrived at a beautiful little town by the sea, with the castle forming the last protrusion towards Sweden

Although it was far too expensive for us as poor grad students to actually go into the castle, we walked all around the outside and peeked into the chapel before making a lap of the town and winding up back in the train station to head back to the capital.

Once back in Copenhagen, we walked quickly through the area known as Christiania, which is a free, self-governed commune known for a very alternative lifestyle and some awesome graffiti:

Satisfied that every item had been crossed off our Copenhagen bucket lists, we strolled all the way back across the city to the hostel, bringing our total walking for the day up to 11 miles, by Chris's pedometer. Hungry, cold, and tired, we all rewarded ourselves with another trip to the Indian buffet (despite the waiters' looks of dread at the recognition of our crew) and then gathered our things so that we could sleep in as late as possible before heading to the airport again in the morning.

The trip home was uneventful, and we were back in Oxford by mid-afternoon...just in time for a post-travel nap. You know, I've always loved to be on the move, to go and see new places, but I have to admit that I'm actually excited to spend the next few weeks only in Oxford to relax and actually take my time on schoolwork. That's not to say that my adventures these past few weeks weren't amazing; they were. Then again, they were also exhausting! And I've really missed seeing all of my friend here in the UK. So I'm looking forward to a more low-key lifestyle.

Then again, that sappiness could be due to the fact that this week has been relatively warm and sunny...don't quote me on that if the British rain comes back to stay!

Miss New Buda(pest)

whirlwind(ˈwəːlwɪnd/)noun: this past weekend in Budapest, in which I enjoyed great friends, lots of sights, and a medically worrisome volume of cheese. 

Here at Oxford, we're somewhat constrained in our travels, even given the greater flexibility of the British university schedule. That's not to say that we don't travel at all; just that we have to be careful in selecting places we can go, see, and conquer in only 3 day chunks of time over a weekend (with the exception of the long spring break, which will be addressed later on). 

As such, different groups of people occasionally gel around a common city and date and try to pack as much as possible into only a few days, and this past weekend was one such occurrence. 

 

Joe and I left later than the two other small groups with whom we'd rented an apartment, because I had a class I couldn't skip on Friday morning. The only flight late enough was out of the dreaded London Stansted airport, which requires a 4 hour marathon bus ride on top of any flight time and then transport from the arrival airport to destination accommodations, so to make a very long travel story short, I will only say that our 1:30 pm departure time from Oxford landed us at the doorstep of an historic apartment building in the foggy heart of Pest at about midnight Hungarian time.

As usual, our VRBO apartment didn't disappoint. There were seven of us, so we'd found a three bedroom place with two bathrooms and the option for a cot (which turned out to be a huge pop-up double bed), but were pleasantly surprised when we showed up to find fifteen-foot ceilings and large windows. Tired as we were, we still stayed up for a while to hear how much fun the earlier groups had been having, and what Hungarian cuisine they'd already inhaled, before we quickly sketched out plans for the next morning and flopped into bed. 

In our breakfast wanderings toward the bridge linking Pest to Buda (fun fact: they used to be separate cities, one on each side of the Danube, and the modern name is literally the two old cities' smashed together), we found a place called Cafe Jubilee that turned out to have a strangely British Victorian vibe about it, but also some of the largest and most delicious omelettes I've ever had. We then walked one of the three long bridges across the river, and stopped on the other side to take some pictures with the Parliament, which is the third largest government building in the world, in the background:

We then trekked up the hill to Fisherman's Bastion, a strategic lookout over the entire city with a large cathedral and beautiful views. Strangely, the foggy, grey day made Budapest seem even more beautiful, and more than a bit spooky and Gothic in a strange, central European way that felt perfectly right. 

We tried to tour the cathedral, but were prevented by a Hungarian wedding, so I only got a few photos of the outside of the church before we took a detour to the National Marzipan Museum.

That's right. National Marzipan Museum! For only about a pound, we could see all sorts of things made out of sugar, honey, and egg whites, including (but not limited to): the Hungarian Parliament, a lifesized figure of a former Hungarian queen, scenes from Snow White, Harry Potter, and other movies, an inexplicable cactus landscape, a map of Europe, and even (drum roll please) a wedding cake over 2 meters tall! For scale:

It was one of those weird and bizarre experiences in which I was unsure whether the existence of the museum or our attendance at it was actually more ridiculous, but I had a blast nonetheless...and we all got to use the bathroom for free, which is quite rare in this part of the world.

After our more hokey detour, we headed back onto the beaten tourist path by walking down to the grounds of Buda Castle, which has ruins from older settlements utilizing the strategic setting on the large hill, and further beautiful lookouts and fun statues of historic figures. Probably my favorite picture of the whole group was taken there, with the whole city in the background:

and I also got some great shots of the opposite side of the riverbank, with the creepy/Gothic/vampire feeling further enhanced by a fun setting I found on my camera:

We were then getting tired of walking and the omelettes were wearing off, so we walked down the hill and grabbed a cab back to the area near our apartment, where we'd heard there was a Hungarian food and drink festival going on. And man, was there! We feasted on a lunch of mulled wine, fried potatoes, cheese, and different breads, and the non-pescatarians in my group sampled more types of sausage than they could finish.









Although we were feeling decidedly sluggish after the carb and cheese-heavy lunch, we'd decided earlier to spend the afternoon at the famous baths on the other side of the city. I don't have any pictures, because I was afraid of offending any other bath-goers not keen on the idea of being bathing suit-clad in the background of my pictures, but the baths were lovely, built a vaguely Romanesque style and consisting of a maze-like network of different temperature pools interspersed with saunas, showers, and massage chambers. We spent a full two hours exploring them and dipping in different pools, and I went in the hottest sauna I've ever seen (80 degrees Celsius!!) before we were sufficiently relaxed and prune-y and had to shower off so we could move on to our next event.

My other friend Rachel had been looking up various venues for wine-tasting, and stumbled upon one that received the most positive reviews by far of any wine tasting in the city. It was located down in the catacombs under the Budapest Hilton, a setting dating back to the days when it was a monastery, and we quickly realized why it was so highly rated. Not only was it cozy, intimate, and very cheap, but our host was amazing, and the selection of wines was unique, completely Hungarian, and delicious! After the walking, baths, and wine, we were all completely relaxed, and spent over two hours talking and tasting and laughing. At the end, our host even let us sample some Hungarian palinka, which is a schnapps-like fruit liquor served in these interesting glasses:

When we finally mustered up the energy to leave, we cabbed to one of the many kebab stands and feasted on schwarma (and falafel, in my case) for a good and cheap dinner. We spent a few hours at a "ruin pub", a Hungarian phenomenon in which an old building is barely restored and then filled with thousands of random objects, making for a fun experience both in exploring and talking with friends. When our eyelids started to really droop, we made the short walk home and then a pact to sleep in the next morning before venturing back out.






Three of our friends had to leave the next day, so only Joe, Miles, Rachel, and I were left to explore. Our "lie-in", as the Brits would say, went a bit overboard, and we didn't end up leaving the apartment until after 11. We first struck out looking for brunch, and ended up at a bakery where I ate a cinnamon roll that was literally the largest I'd ever seen. We then walked over to the Parliament, intending to take a tour, and realized we'd have to follow along with a French one, or wait an hour for the English iteration. Given my high school experience and Miles's time in France (and most importantly, our impatience), we decided to go for it, and I was so glad that we did. Not only is the Parliament large and intricate on the outside; the entire interior is gilded and worked and decorated and painted in every possible nook and cranny. To give you an idea, here's the grand entrance staircase:

Surprisingly, we were able to understand most of the hour-long tour (or at least, I think we did), and enjoyed even the unintelligible parts....gorgeous architecture is fairly universal!



We all wanted to work out and then have a bit of a siesta, so we headed back to the apartment and did some yoga before changing back into our warm clothes and venturing out to walk around a bit before dinner. We'd noticed the night before that Budapest was lovely in the dark, with all of its bridges and beautiful buildings lit up and visible from the river. We explored Margaret's Island, a large one in the middle of the Danube that gave us lovely views of both sides, and then walked back to take more pictures on the other side of the main bridge. There were many, but these are undoubtedly my favorites:

We ate dinner at a small cafe I'd found online and picked on somewhat of a limb, but it turned out to be absolutely delicious. I had a combination of goat cheese and zucchini made into almost a latke that's apparently very traditional Hungarian, and most of the others went for goulash and other hearty meat dishes.




Rachel, who's normally very good with finding activities (and previously had been more than vindicated with the wine tasting find), had booked us to do a puzzle house, which I was initially very confused/hesitant about, but willing to try. These puzzle houses are apparently very popular in Hungary, and range from rooms with puzzles to full-on games that require solving riddles and discovering keys in order to escape from a house. I was initially worried that we'd somehow volunteered ourselves for a "Saw"-like experience, but my fears were completely unfounded. The one we had stumbled upon turned out to be more of the latter type of puzzle house, but it took us a full five minutes of our allotted hour to realize that we were supposed to start the moment we entered. We were all a bit confused at first, but then we ended up getting very into the entire game, searching through rooms for stamps, keys, and clues that let us find more keys to open locks that contained even more keys! I can't even describe the intricate process of moving through the rooms, but by the end of the hour, we were having a blast and actually hugely disappointed when we didn't completely finish in the time given. I can't fully describe it, but suffice it to say that if you ever find yourself in Hungary, you should get a group together and try one out.

We then decided that a lazy night at home was in order to round out our leisurely day, and watched several episodes of the show "Arrested Development" before falling into bed for our last night.

Rachel and Miles left early in the morning, but since Joe and I had a later flight, we decided to go see St. Stephen's Basilica, the one last item remaining on my Hungarian bucket list. It's a beautiful and very opulent church, done in the Orthodox style, with many a dome and mosaic, and a lovely square out in front:

When our necks were sore from craning to look at even more gold and colored tile, we wandered back out into the street and walked up the riverbank toward our apartment, looking for the one very last thing I'd wanted to see. It looks very innocuous, and if you were walking along and unaware of what to look for, you may well miss it completely:

It's called the "Shoes on the Danube Promenade", and is a solemn and beautiful monument to Hungarian Jews killed during WWII. The sixty pairs of iron shoes are meant to commemorate a group of people that were being harbored in the Swiss embassy, until it was stormed by a death squad and they were brought down to the river and shot, their bodies left to float away in the Danube. I'd never heard of the incident before my trip to Hungary and had only stumbled across the description of the monument in some peripheral reading, but going to see it, I was struck by its power. In the middle of a pretty frivolous weekend of eating and sightseeing, it was jarring but probably necessary to be brought back to earth and remember the darker side of Hungarian history. Although it's definitely not a happy addendum, I wanted to add it here so that you could get an idea of the full experience of Budapest, at least as I saw it.

After a heavy ending, we only had time to gather our things and head to the airport, for another travel marathon that put us back in Oxford by midnight once more.

This week is a crazy one, since I'm jetting off again on Friday to head to Malta for another travel weekend. Next week's entry should hopefully include some sun and sand, but I can at the very least promise a break in the Oxford monotony!

The (Dizzying) Swing of Things

So, I've now been back in Oxford for almost three weeks, meaning that the days are already starting to slip by increasingly rapidly and equally inexplicably.

Many of us here joke about the Oxford time warp, which is a strange and mystical phenomenon in which we never seem to be very busy with school and yet also never have enough time to finish all of our schoolwork. I always feel like I look at the date and give a start, confused as to why it's so late in the game. But then, every time I think about what I've actually been doing over that time period, it makes far too much sense.

To give an illustration of what I mean, I'll give an actual play-by-play of my day this past Friday. Now, keep in mind that I tend toward hyperbole, so this is an extreme example of a day that felt particularly busy, even in the scale of my time here.  But I think you'll understand what I mean. Ready? Deep breath? GO!

10 am: house viewing with my roommates for next year (house was horrible, by the way)
11 am: Mandarin-speaking lunch with friends from my program
12:30 pm: Meeting at Rhodes House about the marquee for the Ball in May
2 pm: Class at the China Centre
3 pm: house viewing (lovely, but expensive)
3:30 pm:house viewing (unsanitary and creepy old place)
4 pm: Psychology experiment
5 pm: American Sign Language class
6 pm: Meeting about RSSAF consultancy project
7 pm: Dinner at Joe's
9 pm: Nina's birthday party

Now do you see why I just give y'all an overview of the highlights of any given period?! If I went into all of that detail regularly, your eyes would glaze over and you'd probably never return to this page out of PTSD-like feelings of revulsion.

That's not to say that it wasn't a lovely day! Granted, it was the coldest and rainiest day we've had since I've been back, and I spent far too much time on my bike, but I got to see a lot of friends and accomplish a lot of things (except any useful schoolwork). I just want to propose a hypothesis about the genesis of the Oxford time warp: random extracurricular activities slowly pull at the threads of all the time you want to use to accomplish things, and then your whole schedule is left in shambles.

That said, there have been several highlights over the last week, so I'll zoom out from the micro level and give you the more fun and much quicker version of events.

On Saturday of first week, St. Antony's College had their traditional Aussie Bop (cheekily nomered "The Bop Down Under"). Since I know several Australian Rhodies, and almost a quarter of my program is from Oceania's largest island, I was, as they say, rather "keen" to make an appearance. Through a stroke of luck, one of my friends was able to locate a long string of mini Australian flags for my costume, and I wrapped myself up in it and made an appearance. It was a great night of accents and funny costumes (my favorite being "shrimp on the barbie", when a friend of mine printed out a picture of the doll and taped prawns to it), good dancing, and late night food truck eating. I always tell people that I never get more excited traveling than when I can find Australians, Canadians, or Germans, since they are almost always friendly and down to have adventures. Needless to say, this bop reaffirmed my faith in the nation at large, and reminded me how cool it is to have such amazingly diverse friends...even if they still can't teach me how to properly mimic an Australian accent.

In stark contrast to the international flavor of that bop is this weekend's festivities, which were heavily American. Friday was, as mentioned above, a party for our friend Nina, who was my roommate in DC when all of this craziness began. Since she wanted to have a large group over, Joe and Evan offered up their apartment for the party, but with the strong caveat that we would have to devise ways to appease the French neighbor downstairs who has previously called the cops whenever more than 20 people were in the apartment. Her main complaints were that people wearing shoes sounded like "an elephant stampede" above her head and that people made too much noise in the stairwell, so Nina brought some recruits over early and we plastered the entire building with signs. "QUIET!" banners in the stairs and "SHOES OFF NOW!" inside the apartment proved effective, and a good thing it was! We ended up having a turnout of at least 100 people (did I mention that Nina's extraordinary and extraordinarily well-liked?), and I only captured part of the crowd when I tried to go all paparazzi on her thank you speech to everyone:

The best spot to take pictures all night was in front of the American flag that we've hung prominently in Joe's common room....I'd also like to point out that he's ordered multiple others after the fact. Here's me with the birthday girl (to the right of me) and her two friends from Harvard:

Tonight, to make things even more Amerrrrrican, we're hosting a Super Bowl party. Now, keep in mind that Oxford is 5 hours ahead of EST. People are going to begin arriving around 9, and I believe that the kickoff is at 11:30. There won't be much sleeping getting done before my 10 am class, but it will be worth it! To increase the home-y vibe, we have people getting pizza and wings, the boys are making ribs, and I'm cooking pepper poppers and making other inherently American dips and snacks. As expats, we have to find a way to stay connected!

Now, I'm off to try to get as much homework done as possible, because I'll be in Budapest, Hungary all weekend. I'll actually be traveling every weekend in February (Malta for Valentine's Day and Copenhagen the weekend afterward), so stay tuned for some exotic pictures and tales of obscure European countries :)

Christmas Break in Ten Minutes or Less

Oh hey there! Long time no see! Which, by the way, is a translation of a common Chinese saying, in case you were wondering.

So, it's been quite a while since I've written here, mostly because I was busy taking over Portugal with my friends, driving around the southeastern United States, and then frantically trying to get my life together in time to apply to programs for next year, get back to the UK, take an exam, make it to France for the weekend, and then come back to Oxford and start classes.

If that one sentence exhausts you, imagine how tiring it would be for me to try to walk you through it step by step. Honestly, just thinking about writing it all makes me want to take a nap. I don't even know where to start, so I'll just kick it off with this anecdote:

In a college writing class, a professor gave a strange assignment. She asked her students to write the shortest story possible, but also incorporate religion, mystery, and sex into the story. Only one story in the class got an A, and it was as follows. "Oh God, I'm pregnant. I wonder who did it?"

So, moral of that story is that sometimes, less truly is more. For example, take the case of having a lot of work to do, a lot of blogging to catch up on, and a lot of social obligations that frankly sound more fun than agonizing over a computer for hours (no offense). If you're feeling put off by the lower word count, consider the thousands of proverbial words added by the copious amounts of pictures included below.

Ready, set, GO. 

First up, Portugal. We were in Faro for three days enjoying sun, beach, and lots of Moorish architecture and tile, and then we made it to Lisbon for egg tarts, castles, and the eerie realization that the hills and long bridge across the bay were eerily reminiscent of San Francisco. The only thing stranger than that was the "Bone Chapel", a small church made up entirely of cement and the remains of almost 1,300 former monks.

Then it was off to Switzerland for a night to switch airplanes and retrace my path across the Pond for a quick weekend in DC. I went to the Rhodes military dinner with Joe and our friends, saw the people who made this summer a blast, and then spent a glorious two weeks at home relaxing and doing nothing more mentally strenuous than eating and going to spin class. In a whirlwind long weekend, I visited Joe's family in Tennesee, saw my best friend Reagan and her boyfriend at a mountain house in NC, and then swung through Charlotte for New Years' Eve with my other best friend, Kelly. I then had a week to frantically apply for programs for next year and pack to head back to the UK, but I did take some time out to enjoy my sister's awesome Christmas present of a private painting class with all of the Woodlee women.

I got back to Oxford with three days to finish studying for my first exam at the big, scary, Harry Potter-esque Exam Schools. Ironically, my overwhelming concern with the carnations, sub fusc, candidate numbers, and other arcane Oxford traditions displaced my worry with the test itself, and once I was finished I had a nice weekend in France to look forward to. There was good wine, beautiful scenery, delicious food, great friends, and a bedroom formerly inhabited by Sting to boot, so it was an amazing weekend (albeit short on sleep).

So there you have it! Despite my constant lamentations about my natural verbosity, I just gave you six weeks in less than ten minutes. If it took you longer, read it again at a faster clip! :)

Teaser for this term: there will be trips to Budapest, Malta, and various parts of the United Kingdom, friends coming to visit, and more of the general Oxford ridiculousness. So y'all come back, now.

Escape from Oxford

My first term ended not with a bang, but a whimper. At least, until I departed grey, soggy England and got to experience fun, food, architecture, and good friends!

Then again, I’m probably getting ahead of myself. It would be better to first relate the (surprise, surprise) archaic, confusing, and generally stress-inducing procedures required to turn in my term paper. You see, all evaluated work at Oxford goes not through one’s department –that would be far too easy- but through the Exam Schools, a large and intimidating institution probably older than time. In order to turn in one paper, I had to print six different things, and have them categorized, stapled, enveloped, signed, and numbered in varying places. So stressed was I that I would somehow ruin it all and therefore fail my course (hey, I never said it was a legitimate stress) that I set myself a deadline of finishing the assignment a full three days before I was leaving Oxford, to allow for at least that many tries in actually getting the thing across the heavy wooden desk at the Exam Schools.

After a momentary panic that I was expected to turn my paper in wearing full subfusc, aka Harry Potter costume, I calmed my breathing and followed another blessedly plainclothed student up to the desk, filled out the requisite paperwork, and clutched the receipt proving I’d turned my assignment in with a death grip until I could get back to my room and take a photo to upload onto my computer in case something terrible happened. Then, telling myself I’d done more than my due diligence, I planned how to spend my last two days of my first term in Oxford with no academic obligations besides attendance in class.

After some rumination, I settled on spending the next day baking, both to enjoy leisurely cooking on my own schedule and to supply my friends with goodies to get them through their respective term papers, presentations, and exams. All Thursday after class, I listened to Christmas music and danced around the kitchen, making pecan pie, rice krispie treats, oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, and apple cobbler. I was rather tired by the end of it all, but it was totally worth it to see my friends dig in (Chris the Marine ate literally the entire pecan pie by himself and two Italians who’d never had Rice Krispie Treats tucked in like they were manna from heaven).

I regretted my post facto procrastination on Friday, however, when I was left running all of my end of term errands on the same day. On top of finishing packing, I had to go transfer money, exchange pounds for euro, Christmas shop, meet an undergrad for coffee, work on my consulting project, go to class and ASL, and have a meeting for Rhodes Ball planning. I did take some time out of the day to attend a very special service at Rhodes House, in memoriam of Nelson Mandela. The great South African leader lent his name to the Rhodes Trust in the early 2000’s, and a new scholarship program that sends students from South Africa to the United States for undergraduate education was started in his name. In addition, there are 9 South African Rhodes Scholars selected every year, so it was touching to hear those students and others talk about the impact Madiba has had on their lives and countries.

Somehow, I got everything finished in time, and was able to go enjoy the final Meet n Mingle of Michaelmas Term for a while. I specify only a while, because I had to get to bed early to try to get at least some sleep before getting up to catch a 3:45 am bus.

No, folks, that was not a typo. My friend Rachel Kolb and I had booked a ridiculously cheap flight to head to Faro, Portugal, to meet the other Rachel, Joe, and Kit for a weekend of Portuguese sun and relaxation. The funny thing about cheap flights, however, is that they tend to be cheap for a reason. In this case, the low price came from the fact the plane departed at 7 from London Luton, an airport on the other side of London from Oxford and a full two hour bus ride away. Therefore, I was dragging myself out of bed at 3 am and cursing budget airlines as I walked through the rain to the bus on Saturday morning. Luckily, both Rachels made it to the bus and got a little more sleep before we had to go through security and get breakfast at the airport.

Things were running smoothly until we got onto the aircraft, and then came to a screeching halt. In the space of a two-hour delay, I learned more about British air traffic control than I’d ever wished to know. You see, all of the London airports (Heathrow, Gatwick, Stansted, and Luton) are controlled by one central command. Because the control center uses such massive bandwidth to get flights in and out of all the airports during the day, it’s controlled by software that reduces frequencies at night to give the servers a break, and then revamps to full capacity in the mornings. Unfortunately, this particular morning was the one that some software glitch caused the revamping to fail and stay failed. In practice, this meant that the command center was struggling to get all of the flights out of all of the airports with only about 50% of their capacity available…in other words, every. Single. Flight. Was late!

Two girls starved for Vitamin D by British weather waited on bated breath for two hours, until we finally started to taxi out and could breathe again. I slept for most of the flight, and I woke up to stretches of teal and turquoise water and sun that made me blink with its brightness. When I got off the plane, the first thing I saw when my eyes adjusted was Rachel (who’s from New Mexico) doing a happy dance on the runway, arms wide and face upturned to the sun rays. When I stepped off the stairs, I had to join her for a brief moment before we abashedly looked at the disapproving Europeans and walked away with only big smiles to evidence our joy at the warmth and sunshine.

Despite our absolute lack of Portuguese language skills, we were easily able to get a taxi and find our way to the large church that served as the landmark for the house we’d rented. Then it only took minimal squinting at the map to navigate to the house, where I saw Joe sitting on the rooftop balcony and could easily flag him down to let us in. Rachel and I had originally intended to take a nap when we arrived, but the sun and excitement had rejuvenated us, so we walked around the city all afternoon instead, taking pictures, scoping out places for dinner, and stopping for coffee in outdoor cafes any time we felt our energy waning. When the sun finished setting over the marina, we headed back home to collect the studious members of our household and head to dinner.

We'd scouted out a tiny fish restaurant near the marina, which looked like it had delicious (and judging by the case out front, definitely fresh) fish dishes for reasonable prices, and everyone voted for enjoying some local seafood our first night in Portugal. And man, we weren't disappointed! I ordered the mackerel, and when it came, it looked like this:

and was just as delicious as the picture looks. All for only 10 Euros! The food was so good and the woman who owned the restaurant so nice that we decided to make our way back the next night. 

First, though, we needed to SLEEP. Rachel and I had been up for almost 18 straight hours by the time we finished eating, and we were more than happy to head straight home and crash. A fringe benefit of going to sleep at 10 pm was having a nice early wake up time naturally, which allowed me to cook a full breakfast and head out in search of coffee before everyone else had really started to move around. There was a moment of hilarity when I tried to ask for coffee "to go" at the cafes in town; apparently that is not something that normally happens in Portugal. Unsure of whether American or British English would be more useful, I walked in and out of three places asking, "To go? Taking away? Drink at home?!" before finally finding a woman who understood and gave me the coffees -in smoothie cups- with a smile. 

Rachel and I headed back into the city, charting another vector to the old Moorish quarter for our explorations. Faro is in the Algarve region of Portugal, and is pretty much the southernmost tip. It's a small city of less than 100,000 people, but has the distinction of being the historical seat of the Moorish empire in the area, which means there are beautiful old winding streets, walls, and gorgeous tile everywhere you look. We took many pictures over the course of our time there, and I can't include them all, but here are a few of the highlights: 

Around lunchtime, we headed back to the house to collect Joe and Rachel number three, who'd agreed to accompany us to the beach in order to have a little change of scenery for studying. Faro is bordered by a lot of small, sandy islands, and you can get a ferry out to spend a full or half day on the sand. Being a Carolina girl, I was ecstatic for the beach, and it did not disappoint. Although the 60 degree weather wasn't optimal for tanning, just looking for shells and basking in the sun made England feel millions of miles away. We stayed until the sun set, and took some more pictures, but I thought I'd include my favorite, of the three Rachels all together:

 Just to give you a full idea of the scenery, and how adorable my boyfriend Joe is, here are a few more:

With the sun setting came a 15 degree drop in temperature, so we hustled back to the relative safety of the last ferry leaving for the mainland. Back in Faro, we returned to our fish restaurant, where the woman greeted us enthusiastically and with just as much delicious food as the night before. Then we spent the night relaxing at home with the housemates, who were planning on leaving early the next morning to head back to Oxford and take the exam they'd been studying for all weekend.

Luckily, we had two Canadian friends, Laura and Joanne, who were coming into town that night to round out our little travel group. Although they'd originally intended to be in Faro the day before, the continuing problems from the air traffic control malfunction had canceled their flights, and we only heard that they'd arrived in Faro when we got back from dinner. They were exhausted after their frustrating travel experience, so we arranged to meet them at their hotel the next morning and encouraged them to rest up for a long day.

We'd already booked another apartment in Lisbon for the next night, so Rachel and I brainstormed which of Faro's highlights we wanted to see with them in their half day in Faro. Since the city had turned out to be so small and walkable, it wasn't too difficult to circumambulate, see all the highlights, and also go to the two main cathedrals in town, which we'd been saving to do with the girls. While we were there, we got to experience one of the weirdest/creepiest/most fascinating feature of some Portuguese churches: cathedrals of bones. Yes, bones. Like actually human skeletons! Apparently, Igreja de Carmo, the cathedral near our house, used to be the site of a monastery and had an extensive graveyard. During the 19th century, they'd been forced to demolish it, and rather than moving all of the graves, they exhumed the bones of past monks and incorporated skulls and large bones from over over 1,295 skeletons into a building in the gardens of the church. It is a chilling, solemn, and strangely beautiful place, reinforced by the inscription over the door, which reads "stop here and think of this fate that will befall you". I didn't take too many pictures, but here's one that gives you an idea of the place:

Once we'd left the Bone Chapel, we'd had our fill of Faro sightseeing, and time was creeping closer to our 3 pm train. So we found a cafe in an open plaza flooded with sunlight and ate lunch outside, enjoying the rays and chattering until we walked to the train station and relaxed for the three hour ride to Lisbon. At the train station, we managed to have a hilarious and slightly anachronistic adventure involving payphones, of all things.

You see, we'd rented an apartment using a website called VRBO, which is super useful for students traveling on a budget. You basically rent uninhabited apartments or houses instead of staying in hostels or hotels, and it's possible to find great deals and also enjoy amenities like kitchens and balconies in most cities in Europe. You work directly with the owners or property managers, which is normally great, except when they do things like require you to call them when you get off the train in a city where you have no access to a working phone. None of us could remember the last time we'd actually used a payphone, and of course the ones in the train station were all in Portuguese. We couldn't figure out why the earpiece kept beeping angrily at us and refusing to dial the number, until we realized that (for some inexplicable reason) including the Lisbon area code caused the call to fail. After about ten minutes of looking like monkeys trying to use typewriters in a very public place, we got through to the property manager, who obligingly met us at the building and let us in the third story walkup. The stairs were narrow and dark, but once we emerged into the three bedroom apartment, we were greeted with high ceilings, big windows, and cute, modern furnishings. We rejoiced, unpacked, and used the free wifi to confirm with all families and friends that we'd arrived safely before heading off in search of dinner.

We weren't too far from a posh district of Lisbon, and found a great tapas restaurant where we snacked on fried manchego cheese, Portuguese "tortillas", some version of hash browns, beans and rice, and a delicious flan for dessert. We walked around peering in the windows of shops for a while, and then decided it prudent to head back to our warm apartment and snuggle up for the night, so as to get an early start the next day. We'd decided to walk for most of day, and so justified our morning breakfast of multiple pastries with all of the calories we'd undoubtedly be burning later on. And walk we did! We found our way down to the waterfront area, and followed the coastal road to the huge main square that marks the beginning of the historic districts of Lisbon.

We had pizza for lunch sitting out in the sun, and then wound our way up hills and steep stairs to the cathedral:

And then went to Caselo San Jorge, which is the old Moorish castle sitting on the hill above the city. It offered history, cool architecture, archaeological sites from still earlier times, and most importantly, absolutely beautiful views of Lisbon:

By the time we'd exhausted the castle, we'd also succeeded in exhausting ourselves, and headed back for a siesta before dinner. We'd decided to eat hamburgers (or veggie burgers, in my case) and then snuggle up to watch a Christmas movie that night, but our plan was partially foiled when we lost wifi in our apartment, so we ended up just laughing, chatting, and going to bed early...which was pretty much the recurring motif of my end of term travel, as it should be!

The next morning was a comedy of errors. We woke up and walked to the super market to find ingredients to cook breakfast, but the market was closed. Then we tried to throw together a makeshift meal from bread and fruit we had, and blew a fuse in our apartment...apparently, old Lisbon buildings don't allow for running a toaster and a hair dryer at the same time, which is less than optimal with four girls. We finally gave up and bought pastries again, and then hopped on a bus that was supposed to take us directly to Belem, another historic and beautiful area of the city that we'd planned to walk around. Somehow, we ended up riding a few stops too far, and then had to navigate mapless back to where we'd actually intended to go...only to find out that the old watch tower, which looked so commanding in the guidebooks, was actually quite a bit less imposing in real life:

We did end up sharing a good laugh and then food at a good restaurant for lunch nearby, although a lack of language skills on both sides of the counter led to me getting a chorizo sandwich instead of an egg one and therefore eating soup and bread for lunch instead of a hearty sandwich. We also walked through yet another glorious cathedral, and mosied our way back along the waterfront until it was time to catch a bus back to our apartment to collect the Rachels' stuff and head to the airport. RKolb was headed back to Oxford to regroup and repack to head home to New Mexico, and I was off to Zurich for my flight back to the United States. It was definitely a great weekend with some good friends, though! Here's my favorite picture of the four of us:

It may sound strange that I had to fly to Switzerland to in turn fly back to the US, but I can explain. You see, the impetus of this whole Portugal trip was a failure of another vacation. Joe and I had originally planned to spend a week in Switzerland at the end of term, and he was convinced (although I was not) that he'd be able to teach me to ski. So we'd gone as far as to book our flights back to the US from Switzerland instead of the UK, until the cruel announcement of a surprise exam ruined that plan. Luckily, I can say that Portugal was more than worth it in retrospect, which is further proof that things always somehow work out for the best.

The only downside to my readjustment of plans was that it now necessitated a late night flight to Zurich, a quick nap and shower at an airport hotel, and then an even quicker turnaround back to the international terminal for a 10 am flight to Atlanta and then to Washington DC. Every year there is a black tie dinner, or "dining out" in DC for all of the military Rhodes scholars and their dates, and I was going with Joe and taking the opportunity to visit friends in the city where I spent such a great summer. I was super excited, so the ten hour flight seemed to stretch out before me, only to be filled with movie watching, since I'd finished reading my book. We did land eventually, however, as planes tend to do. When I finally got through customs and the second round of security, I did what any good Southern girl returning from abroad would do....made a beeline for Chick Fil A. And man, did that chicken sandwich taste like freedom!

This post is long winded, even for me, so suffice it to say that my weekend in DC was a great one, with plenty of brunching, visiting friends, and schmoozing with older Rhodies. We even took the time to get a great picture of Joe, me, Kiley, and her boyfriend, Justin:

And at the end of it all, I caught a flight back to GSP and made it to my own bed by 11 pm last night. Now I'm off to enjoy my time back Stateside, and hopefully see some of you before I escape back to Oxford! I won't be taking time out of enjoying home to blog until I get back, so expect a synopsis in the New Year. Until then, Merry Christmas....or I guess now that I've lived in England, "Happy Christmas!"