Midweek model/miniature madness

I love me some alliteration.

Last week, classmates Liz, Beth and Whitney and I ventured outside the increasingly small bounds of Oxford on a daytrip to Bourton-on-the-Water, a tiny village in the Cotswolds. We'd heard they have a model village within their village, and since everyone likes a bit of minature fun, we thought we'd use our free day to check it out. It is funny though, becaus apparently there are several model villages throughout Europe, which is sort of the opposite of how we do in the US with things like worlds largest ball of twine, etc.

I don't think this requires excessive narration, so we'll let the pictures and captions take you through it. As ever, full photos and comments on facebook.

Bourton-on-the-water, the "Venice of the Cotswolds"...because they have a river with some bridges.

Pretty river.

Pub food for lunch! Whitney, Liz and Beth are ready to dig in.

My food. I got a shrimp scampi, chips and peas. And a weird little salad-y garnish thing.

Part of the model village.

To be an accurate model, the model village needed a model village within it. And the model within the model needed a model. And the model within the model within the model...until your brain explodes.

Fearsome womonsters.

Big person, little bridge.

Super whitney, leaping rivers in a single bound. We obviously just turned the model village into our playground and stage for a photo shoot.

There was also this museum of miniatures, many of which were pretty pervy and at a kid's eye level. This one is of the old cuckold coming home Scotland to find his missus in bed with another. Who dove under the bed backwards? And with with the bottle of wine.

Creeeepy little dolls in the school yard setting.

it was a pretty straightforward trip. Good, clean (except for the minatures) tiny fun. It left us all jumping for joy:

London bridge is... not in london.

I went to London at last! Actually, it was last month, but I've just been too lazy to write an update about it.

The lovely Alison was in town for work, and since she'd already travelled across an ocean, it was the least I could do to make the short trip to London from the Ox. London is only about 60 miles from Oxford, but the trip--with the slow pace of Oxford's streets (the medieval design is obviously not car-friendly), the many stops the bus made, and the London traffic--took about two and a half hours.

The bus dropped me off near the hotel, but since I was working off of a relatively small google map and its shoddy directions (the google directions have proved highly unreliable since I've been in the UK, and I keep ending up in crazy places), I wandered around for nearly an hour before finding my hotel, oh, three blocks from where I started. I made the climb to the fourth floor (I keep finding myself living at the top of lots of stairs, which I'm taking as a universal push to get in shape), and found my room:


Aww yeah. I liked that it was about the size of a closet and every thing was pretty basic...but they made sure there was a tea kettle and cup in the room because we are in the UK, after all.

Shortly thereafter I grabbed a cab to the West End, where I'd booked a last minute ticket to see Avenue Q. The cabbie was chatty and hilarious, telling me about how his grandfather had been hairdresser to the stars in the days of old hollywood glamour. But then when he started telling me all kinds of other stories about how he knows all these famous people who do him favo(u)rs all the time, I became a bit dubious about the validity of his stories. But really, who cares?

Anyway: Avenue Q. It struck me as strange to see an American show set in brooklyn while I was in London, but you know, whatev. I knew all the music already and had seen several of the numbers on youtube videos, but I had a great time singing along and seeing the little bits of the story that didn't make it onto the internet.

The only other thing I have to say about that experience was that some of the actors' faux-American accents were WEIRD. One guy in particular had some hybrid of texan-brooklyn-minnesotan strangeness going on that was pretty distracting (and unlike anything I've ever heard before), and it made me wonder if that's what he hears when he listens to Americans speak. It was just funny because I really hate bad british accents done by americans, but I'd never heard bad (BAD BAD) american accents done by brits. Good to know it works both ways.

Outside the Gielgud theatre.

The next day I had most of the day to wander around town until I was supposed to meet Alison at 5. So I had breakfast at a cafe just around the corner from my hotel, then meandered through Kensington gardens and Kensington palace until I reached the other side, around Albert Hall and the Royal Albert Memorial.



In the gardens near Kensington Palace...maybe waiting for Prince Harry, who sometimes hangs out there? But let's not kid, folks: his brother is way yummier.


Part of the Albert Memorial... it might be nice to be important enough that the world commemorates your life with gold statues.


I made my way to the Museum of Natural History, where I chilled with the dinos, then headed to the Victoria and Albert (there he is again) museum, where I checked out an exhibit on fashion over the past few centuries. Realizing that a) my feet hurt, b) I still had several hours until I was supposed to meet Alison and c) I hadn't had enough musical theatre (because really, can you ever?), I high tailed it back to the West End & got last minute tickets to Oliver, which served as the very british antidote to the previous evening's very american show.



You are so not supposed to take photos inside the theatre. Too bad.

More west end. Hey, mj.



Then it was off to Harrod's at long last. After what seemed like an eternity wandering around the behemoth that is that store, Alison and I found each other and had high tea. It was good food and tea, and so, so nice to see a someone from home.


Fancy china

High tea happiness

We polished off about half the food before we could be bothered to snap a photo.

Annnd that was about it. I didn't see big ben or the london eye or parliament or anything like that because a) obnoxious touristy things are definitely not as fun to do alone and b) I expect that I will have visitors (so book your effin tickets) who'll want to do those things with me in the coming months. Headed to London next weekend, actually, for the Reclaim the Night rally there, and I think we'll go down early to check out some of the markets, etc, beforehand.

That's it for now. I started this nearly an hour ago thinking I'd do a couple quick updates because I'm so far behind. So next time, I'll be shorter-winded. I'll leave you with a rather apt message from the folks at Oliver:

xx,

Amanda

Halloqueen

It's november! This is madness. We're in week four now, which means we're mid-term already.

It was a fun Halloween weekend this year--on Friday we went to a pub called the Grapes, which was decorated for the holiday, and I watched Hocus Pocus, which, as you know, holds the official title of Best Halloween Movie of All Time. Do not dispute this.

Really though it was all about the main event: Halloqueen.

At various points in the year, different colleges within the university will sponsor "bops" (which elicits images of 1950's sock hops for me every time). And though apparently Halloween is not generally a big deal amongst the over 7 set in this country, students will take any opportunity to celebrate that they can. St. Antony's hosted the Halloqueen bop: an evening of fabulosity and dressing as a gender that you normally do not. Which generally meant fellas in dresses and women in facial hair, ties, etc.

(Like this. I deeply loved my handlebar moustache and am seriously considering keeping it--or at least busting it out every once in awhile.)

This event is simultaneously a dream come true, living nightmare and sociological field day for someone who does Women's Studies. And here follows my feminist deconstruction because I can't turn it off, people. I loved the possibilities for gender bending and taking on a new persona outside the usual, boring Sexy Whatever that has become the ubiquitous halloween costume for twentysomething women; however, the other side of the coin--and what was in large part the reality of the event--was that dressing in drag didn't so much break down the gender binary as reinforce it. Though some people really did get creative and genuinely dressed as some interesting version of another gender (our Kellogg and WS crew made pretty good men, and I saw a 6 foot Marie Antoinette in full regalia), by and large the guys just dressed as the Sexy Whatevers and girls dressed as Sexy Guys.

I know that Halloween costumes aren't usually done in a serious, social commentary-focused way, but the things we do in jest say a lot about our collective ideas and attitudes. In Women's Studies we talk a lot about how people "perform" gender in how they appear, talk and behave, and Halloqueen as essentially a night of gender performance a fascinating insight into people's perceptions of what it means to be a man or a woman. When everyone's focus was on groping the "girls" or looking hyperfeminine in a Britney Spears-porn star hybrid sort of way, it made my stomach churn. And what's so scary about a woman dressing and actually looking like a man? Why is it still an expectation--even at a party where you're supposed to dress as another gender--that women need to be sexy? Dressing as a man for five hours does not necessarily shake my identity as a woman. So why does it seem to be so scary for so many people? I mean, I think I know why. But I don't like it.

Okay, and my final point (for now): there wasn't a lot of room in this event for people outside the gender binary of man/woman. We were supposed to come as the "opposite" gender, constructing the understanding that there are only two and any genderqueer or transperson was left outside. I dislike exclusion, forcing people into limited categories, etc, so that element was just no good.

I really can't turn it off. But really, this evening was a loud, sequined, over-the-top and in-your-face reminder that there's still a lot of work to be done.

Okay, despite the problems, we had a lot of fun at Halloqueen with the cheesy music and dancing well into November 1st. I was glad to spend time with college and class friends, flail around (because in truth I don't know if you can call what I do "dancing"), and let off some steam. And that's all I've got, so I'll lead you out with a couple more pictures:

The women's studies crew goes guy for the evening.

Enjoying our facial hair. Beards are good for pondering life's complexities.

Matriculation

Oh, my goodness, y'all. I've been here almost a month. It feels like just yesterday that I was lugging suitcases up the stairs (which I have not fully acclimated to just yet), but two weeks of classes have already passed and October is pretty much over.

In the midst of the first month chaos, I've been somewhat remiss in posting--in part because there have been things to do with settling in, classes starting, and in part because I'm just lazy. But now I'll do a few catch-up posts.

Matriculation is one of Oxford's many and varied traditions (or oddities, depending on the lense through which you see them). Even though the first week of classes had already passed; even though most students had already been in town for at least two weeks, all new students had to matriculate in order to be an official member of the University. We put on our sub fusc (ie, academic dress): white shirts, dark skirts/pants, dark shoes, and, of course, the long flowing robes, and processed down to the Sheldonian theatre. It's all very Harry Potter, minus the wands and beans of every flavour.

(Me in my sub fusc, ready to go. Though no one tells you how to tie that silly black ribbon.)

But before anyone went to the official ceremony, we had tea and biscuits at the college, signed the official register, and the dean of degrees said a few words. Then we were on our way.

(Kellogg college teacups. They made residents of college housing get there 2 hours before everything else started so I needed to do something to occupy the time.)

(We have all sorts of deans and chancellors and other hierarchical and bureaucratic figures. I'm not sure a university would know what to do with itself without them.)

Once we finally got to our location, we shuffled inside found our seats. Everyone took photos although it was "forbidden". Then the vice-chancellor of the university processed in, took his place at the front, waved his hat around, said some things in latin, gave a speech, et voila, we were officially members of the University.

(Ready to go into the Sheldonian for the ceremony! Really, really ready to be done standing in the cold and wind--the batman cape, while fun, does not provide much warmth.)

(One of the few contraband inside photos)

We then came back to the college for some official photos, a light lunch and champagne, and just sort of milled around for awhile.

Suzie and Helen, fellow Kellogg Women's Studies-ers.

More Kellogg friends--the four of us to the right all live on the same floor of a college house.

Oh, and as always, full photos are available on facebook.

All in all, it was a great day. These things seem sort of silly, but truth be told it's good fun to dress up like that and be part of the pomp and cirumstance of the University. And really, all of these rituals and establishments are part of the allure Oxford, at least for me--and I'm happy to experience them as much as possible. Until we have to drink goat's blood or something.

Freshers' Week

In addition to the eight academic weeks of the term, Oxford's calendar includes an additional pre-term week: 0th week (called noughth week, not zero-eth, as I may or may not have been calling it in my head).

During the Michelmas (fall) term, 0th week is also Freshers' week, which is packed with activities akin to those of Welcome Week at home. Pub crawls at the old stomping grounds of C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkein, tea and cakes with the Junior Dean, rowing on the Isis--you know, the usual.

This week was kicked off by our Women's Studies induction on Monday morning. While inductions in the U.S. often carry connotations of secret, candelight ceremonies filled with clandestine rituals, I've gathered that here it's really more of an orientation. We went through the syllabus and then just had snacks and chatted for a while. I left our meeting really excited for the year: interesting material, good faculty and, as could be expected, fab classmates. I love love love Women's Studiers--who tend to be pretty brilliant, passionate, fierce, innovative people--and I am thrilled to be back among them.

The rest of the week was one getting-to-know-you activity after another: a college pub crawl, followed by some time at the St. Cross college bar's Bond night, complete with martinis shaken, not stirred, Bond music and even the odd tuxedo (pictures below); a foray with fellow Kelloggians to G& D's ice cream; and the Freshers' Fair, ohhhhh the Freshers' Fair.

(Me, outside G& D's. Let's be honest, friends, all I do these days is creep around this fabulous city)


(Photos from St. Cross: Nicole and Sam, Women's Studies pals; Bond, his tux and his martini; Women's Studies bud Laura and Roseanne)


For those of you from Michigan, Freshers' Fair is a lot like Festifall, except it happens within several rooms of the very, very old Examination Schools, where you're corralled from room to room in a way that feels a little bit like a funhouse at a carnival. I wove my way through the maze of booths hosted by the various Oxford clubs and societies ranging from Amnesty International to Brazilian Capoeira, from Banking and Finance to the Gilbert and Sullivan society and everything in between. I signed my name on far too many email lists, and will probably be getting information from these clubs well into middle age. I'm excited about several of them, including the Oxford University Women's Campaign; Democrats Abroad; Amnesty International; and Oxford Women in Politics.



(About a quarter of one of the dozen rooms of Freshers' Fair)

Another highlight of the week was my very first, proper British afternoon tea. My classmate Laura and I went to the Queen's Lane Coffee House, which claims to be the oldest coffee house in Europe (somehow I feel this is probably disputed by others). I had the Cream Tea, which included tea with scones, clotted cream and strawberry jam, and I think I'm hooked and looking forward to exploring other tea spots that Oxford has to offer.


(Not quite the Queen's tea, but I'll take it.)



I also stumbled upon a store at the Covered Market called Pie Minister, which sells small pies (a la Sweeney Todd, minus the human ingredients) and found some wonderful comfort food: a minty lamb pie over creamy mash, topped with peas and a red wine jus gravy. It was a wonderful moment, and now I'll share it with you:




This weekend I've mostly been lazing about. Last night I had a very romantic date with myself: I treated myself to a sumptuous, homecooked dinner and then took myself to the theatre. I told myself that I looked very nice, I held my hand, and had a meaningful conversation with myself about the highlights and lowlights of the play. I think this relationship is really going somewhere.

Today I went back to the Pitt Rivers museum & museum of natural history with college friends Narayan and Tinya. They hadn't been and I liked it the first time I went so I tagged along. Glad I did because I realized that in fact the Pitt Rivers museum, while sharing facilities with the museum of natural history, is actually its own entity. You step into the museum from the back of the other, and it's just kind of this dark expanse laid out before you. The layout of the collection seems a bit schizophrenic--there doesn't seem to be a particular logic in where everything's placed, so you turn around from the southwestern US hopi pottery to see shrunken heads from Africa; just across from the south american masks is a feather cape from Hawaii, and just around the corner are dolls and puppets from around the world. It's like stepping into the mind of a mad scientist--or at least her basement--and we spent the entire afternoon getting lost in its wonders.
Narayan took some great photos, some of which are posted below.



( I was happy to see my friend the evil bird again, and to introduce him to Tinya and Narayan)



(The frog gives us a rather rude hand gesture)



(I told you there were shrunken heads)


(Tinya and I look on in amazement)


All in all, a good noughth week. Tomorrow is my first day of classes as a graduate student, and I'm two parts excited to one part nervous that I've forgotten how to be a student. After class I'm meeting with my graduate supervisor, and then the first meeting of the women's campaign meets in the evening. Crossing my fingers for a good, full, first day.

xoxoxo
Amanda

Events and explorations...

Hello, friends. Updates: Yesterday I finished the bulk of my settling-in shopping with kitchen supplies: pots, pans, dishes, cups, cooking and eating utensils. The things I bought were pretty cheap, but I think they'll suffice for the purposes of one lone grad student.



This is the extent of my kitchen supplies. Dishes...fit for a five year old?

Our shared cookspace. And finally, the dining area.

Last night was our college's coming up dinner. For those unfamiliar with how Oxford works--it's a collegiate University, so it's made up of a collection of a few dozen colleges. Each student is a member of the University/an academic department and then also a college. Though academics are somehow connected through the colleges (I have yet to figure out exactly what that is), one of the primary functions of the colleges is to take care of student life related things--accomodations, social life, pastoral care, etc. So I am a member of Kellogg college, which is made up of only postgraduate students, the majority of whom are international students, and the focus of the college is heavily on nontraditional students, lifelong learning, etc in additional to traditional students and program(me)s. It's affiliated with the Kellogg foundation in the US.

Okay so that's explained...so the college has lots of social functions for us, including the coming-up/welcome dinner last night. We heard from the President, the Junior Dean, the Chancellor (I'm not really sure what her function is?) and the university-wide student welfare counselor, then had a lovely dinner and drinks. I met some very interesting fellow students, as well.




(Some of my housemates, Seung-Min and Shiira before the coming-up dinner)

Over the past few days, I've been exploring the city...day one I doubted whether I'd ever properly navigate its winding streets, but I think I've got down at least a few paths from my house to the city centre and then around the city centre and back, so that's not too bad for five days in.
Today I went to the University Parks, which are quite close to my house, and the Pitts Rivers Museum , which deals with natural history-ish things. I'll take you on a photo tour:

Welcome!

A human-sized nest, under construction. When it's finished, people will be able to go in and sit in it and there will be a journal for people to write their reflections. Weird but kind of awesome.

A view to the outside.... ....and the gates out.

There are lots more photos, which you can check out on facebook if you like.

The next stop after the Parks was the Pitt Rivers Museum.

(http://www.prm.ox.ac.uk/)

Here it is from the outside. Sort of an imposing structure, no?

This guy was my fave. He is obviously plotting something.

Wolverine! Looking up... ....and looking down.

Darwin 1. Darwin 2. Dude, are you NAPPING?

With my new BFF, Rupert.

Again, there are lots more photos on facebook.

After wandering about the museum, creeping and taking photos of myself with the exhibits, I headed out for more town exploration, which I'll cover in the next blog entry because that also merits a photo tour.

Having fun, but of course it will be more fun the more traveling 'round buddies I have...come visit!

Cheers,

Amanda