Cadbury World: a real life Wonkaland

It all started with some fresh avocados.

One night, over a feast of fajitas and homemade guacamole at Julias (it's not easy to find good avocados in Ox, but Julia had found some lovely ones in London and invited us over to celebrate), someone mentioned that Cadbury World, the headquarters of Cadbury chocolate and real life Wonka-esque wonderland, was only about an hour up the road.

Obviously, we had to go.

So last Sunday, Julia, Liz, Ellie and I all piled into Ellie's car and headed north to Birmingham.


The company should really think about hiring these two as their chocolate-showcasing Vanna White types.


They took us on a rather ghostly tour of Cadbury's history...

And gave us delicious free melted chocolate with our choice of mix-ins (if we only knew how much free chocolate lay in store...)

Then it was a bizarre trip back to the Mayan jungle, where European settlers "discovered"(/stole) cacao.

The entire tour of Cadbury was filled with strange but fun things (we may have just enjoyed it because they kept plying us with free chocolate), including interesting artwork:

Then we got in a disneyland-y ride around chocolate bean town...kind of trippy.

And saw a GIANT, 8 stone chocolate egg.

Liz got cast in chocolate--

We were perplexed by Cadbury's sexy bunny...

And Julia modeled the Cadbury robes.

All in all, it was an unfailingly odd, yet equally delightful afternoon. Lots of free chocolate, lots of Willy Wonka comparisons, and above all, lots of laughter and a much needed break from school work. Pure imagination, indeed.

Roman (/Maltese) Holiday

With Hilary term drawn to a close, it was high time to get out of town for a bit of a break. Liz and I headed south to Malta and then Rome for a few days each.

After a very early morning, and full day of planes trains and automobiles travel (train to Bristol, flew Bristol-->Malta, funny old bus from airport-->Valetta, Taxi from Valetta-->Sliema), we arrived at our hostel/guest house, which was by far the nicest hostel I've ever seen. I'm not sure how we stumbled upon it though, as we were the youngest guests by about fifty years. Seriously, when we walked into breakfast the first monring, there wasn't a head in the room that wasn't either bald or gray. ...and they all turned to stare at us. But it was a lovely place, and the breakfast every morning was giant, delicious, and free.

The first night, we headed out to the water , and found a cute little restaurant with delicious food.

To which Liz became immediately attached.




The next day we jumped on an open-top tour bus, and were taken around the south side of the island. Our first stop was the great harbor in Valetta, where we saw some beautiful gardens and gorgeous views of the water.

Then after some walking tours of the surrounding cities, we went to the Tarxien temples, which are apparently the oldest free-standing structures in Europe (or something like that). Here's the bottom half of the "fat lady" statues--though we learned that archaeologists believe that the statue was top half man, bottom half woman, and made to pray for fertility.

Post-temples, the bus took us to Marsaxlokk, a wee charming fishing village on the south side of the island. We stopped there for lunch, and to check out the adorable fishing boats.

The rest of the bus tour was lots of fun--we went to a place called the blue grotto, a series of caves in the side of the island that we got to check out on a teeny tiny boat (we tried to forget that they found giant sharks near this part of the island whilst on the boat), and then we drove back to Sliema by way of some beautiful coastal towns.

Day 3 in Malta we did the north tour with the same bus company, which took us first to a catholic church where a WWII bomb fell through the roof, but didn't go off. Here's the roof, now patched (and that I think rather looks like an eyeball).

The rest of the north tour took us through some craft villages, to the old capital city of Mdina, where we had lunch, and then through the Maltese countryside and north coast. Both days it was just lovely to sit on the top of the bus, feel the (crazy, hair do-destroying) breeze, and soak up the sun while we saw the sights.

Our final night malta we returned to the restaurant from night 1. I got soup that came with...

A CUP of bacon. And with that, Malta will always have a special place in my heart.



Okay, so then it was on to Roma, la cita eterna.

Day 1 we checked into a (still nice, but not as baller as Malta's) hostel, headed to the Spanish Steps, the Piazza del Popolo, down a main shopping street, passed by the Pantheon (which was closed for some reason), had dinner in the Piazza Navona overlooking the Fountain of Four Rivers (and our maitre d' plied us with free prosecco), and then wandered home, where we came across...

The Trevi fountain! We knew, of course, that we'd find it eventually, but it was such a wonderful surprise to just stumble upon it. Claud took a picture with it (and so did we, many, many times over). I think Liz and I both fell in love with the fountain that night, as we returned each night we were in the city.


Day 2, Saturday, was Vatican day! This was 17 years of Catholic education in the making for me, and Liz was curious to see what all the fuss (/intrigue/controversy/scandal) was about...I was glad to play tourguide for all of those purposes. We also got a real tourguide to take us through the Vatican museum & sistine chapel.

(St. Peter's, with the pope's balcony in the middle...we know you're in there....)



Claud took a forbidden photo inside the sistine chapel--here he is with Michelangelo's Last Judgement behind him.

After our foray into Popeland, we wandered down to the Castel St Angelo, got some (surprisingly terrible) pizza from a street vendor, and made some new friends...

On Sunday, we went to a MASSIVE fleamarket in southwest Rome, which was packed, but thankfully not with tourists (whom we came to despise even though we counted among them). Found lots of pretty beads, which we strung into neckalces (and felt very accomplished indeed).

Then for lunch, we headed to the Colosseum.

We sat literally across the street and basked in its ancient glory. Couldn't really head in, though, because the Rome marathon was happening that day and finished in that very spot.


But we came back on Monday to do it properly!

We also checked out the Palatine Hill, the Imperial Fora and the Roman Forum, all of which were impressive in their preserved-ruins state.

So, when in Rome...

We ate loads of Italian food (that was not quite as amazing as we'd hoped), saw the sights (which were definitely as amazing as we'd hoped) and did as the Romans did, crossing the streets whilst dodging vespas, and saying things like ciao, bella (okay, that was mostly me).

Sad to go (though exhausted from our Roman adventures), Liz and I boarded our RyanAir flight and bid arrivederci to bella Italia...

(And loved flying over the Alps. We tried to convince the pilot to stop and ski, but were unsuccessful).

So for the past week I've been home and trying to get my work together, with mixed results. The theory essay is so close to being submittable quality, but the options paper leaves a lot to be desired (namely, a complete and coherent options paper). Very little else has been happening, though some Kellogg friends and I made a weekend journey to Cadbury world (post to follow). Otherwise, it's been working and daydreaming of PARIS...I leave in two days!

Hilary term wrap-up

Hilary term is officiallly OVER!

--pause for celebratory dancing--

I don't know how it happened. One minute it was January and I was immersed a West Wing marathon demonstrating near-hibernatory habits and then suddenly it was March and the second of three terms had passed.

Overall, term went well. Though I didn't love the Women and Politics course as much as I'd hoped I would. It was less about women and politics in the realm of practice and way more focused on feminist interventions into liberal-democratic theory. I know theory is important, but after a point I get frustrated with philosophical debates and criticizing nuances in argument and want to talk about the reality of how things work. Also, I spent so much time hunting down readings in Oxfords hundred gazillion (that is an exact figure) libraries and writing essays for the tutorials, none of which were graded or count toward my degree, that I didn't really get to work on anything that will determine if I find myself on the other side of these nine months with a Masters or not.

BUT, lots of fun things happened, too:
--the aforementioned hibernation/marathon (really, how fantastic is it to have an excuse to wear flannel pajamas and do nothing but watch DVDs and sleep for ten days? thank you, student life.)
--the heroes and villains bop; Shirley's and my belated birthday at the Big Bang
--attending debates at the Union and heckling the pompous, ridiculous little boys with Julia and Liz
--Wednesday afternoon support group sessions with my fabulous, brilliant Women's Studies classmates.
--the opening of the Kellogg bar & hanging out there with college pals
--Pancake night at 7 Bradmore (see picture below) with toppings including honey, jam, syrup, nuts...yum.
--Informal dinners at Kellogg, including the one when WS friends came along; then having lunch at St. Cross and their epic salad bar two days later.
--Visits from home and traveling with visitors, including Gil's and my trip to London/Ox/Manchester and Duane, Becky's and my trip to Dublin/Ox/Stonehenge/Bath/London
--Helping to plan and then run the Women's Liberation Movement @ 40 conference with the phenomenal organizing committee: our fearless leader, Louise, and then Andie, Whitney, Liz, Suzie, Karen, Debbie, and Berna.

And lots more. Below are pictures from this past weekend's Moulin Rouge Bop

This board reminded me of those light up boards we used to have as kids, where you'd put the pegs in the holes and then switch on the light and have it light up your design....anyone?



Here are Michael, Julia and Liz ready to go to the Moulin Rouge bop--


I turned off my camera's flash and it looked like a heat sensor photo...


Julia and I had fun peering over the fan. Good thing there was one on hand because the dance floor got pretty hot. And stinky, actually. We had to evacuate.



A bit of housemate love--


Okay, and a few photos just to wrap up the rest of the term.


Master chef Julia making pancakes on Pancake day/shrove tuesday/mardi gras


Ah, and here's another "sometimes in Oxford moment" from this term--

Sometimes in Oxford, you walk around a corner and find

A judge in a wig on his cell phone. Natch.

Also--less hilariously and somewhat more concerningly--sometimes in Oxford, you stumble upon the modern Jesus army. Really? Have we really not learned that war/military imagery is probably not the best to pair with religious purposes? Armies kill people and destroy homes and devastate nations...do you really want to couple those connotations with your jesus mission? Seriously, people.

(above 2 photos courtesy of Julia)


Anyway--this term I did a lot of working, a bit less sleeping, a lot of creeping....



And while I fear my face too often looked something like this---


At least I haven't emerged like this--

Yet.


What's up next: term "break", a phrase used loosely because there's just as much if not more to do in the next 5 or 6 weeks than over this past term. I will be finishing my theory essay (6,000 words, 25ish pages?), researching, writing and revising my women and politics paper (10,000 words, 40ish pages?) and trying to make serious headway on the dissertation research, outlining and preliminary writing.

Fun things happening over "break": tomorrow my friend Liz and I are headed to Malta for three days, then Rome for four. Then after a few frantic weeks of doing schoolwork, Gil and I are headed to France for 10 days, staying in Paris and hopefully taking a few day trips to Giverny and Mont Saint Michel.

And in the 16 hours between me and my departure lays a massive binder of 120+ articles about Sarah Palin that need to be read, coded, and entered into a database, then sent to my supervisor for review. So... peace out and ciao, bellas.

Feminism and sexism: both alive and living in Oxford.

This past Friday and Saturday was the Women's Liberation Movement at 40 conference held at Ruskin College in Oxford. It commemorated the 40th anniversary of the original conference held at Ruskin in 1970, which was central in the British women's liberation movement.

I'd been helping with the conference organizing since the fall, though I wasn't especially helpful in the beginning phases when we most needed to identify UK feminist networks that'd be instrumental in pulling the event together. As we gained momentum and got closer to the date, though, I was able to help with logistics and the clerical/admin sort of stuff. Helping to plan it was a fantastic opportunity for me, both in terms of getting to see what goes into organizing a conference and in learning about the history of feminist efforts in Britain...and in working with the conference's phenomenal coordinator, Louise, as well as the rest of the planning team, folks from Ruskin and also from my course. This has been the one thing I've put any significant time and effort into outside of my work, and it's been well worth it.

A number of women who were present at the original conference came to our event, along with women who have been active in feminist politics over the years, as well as a handful of younger women/third wavers/whatever descriptive term you prefer. Mostly the conference team was running around for the full two days registering delegates, directing people to their rooms, helping out with the technology in presentations, checking on refreshments, clearing up spaces, rearranging chair configurations, etc, but we did get to sit in on some of the sessions and keynotes. I got to chair the session on contemporary feminist organizing, which I really enjoyed.

One area where I was left sort of uneasy, though, was the current state of things and the future of feminism. Though there was a fantastic keynote speech on the new generation of feminists, throughout the conference I picked up on a lot of skepticism from the participants about what younger women are doing now, and whether young feminists even really exist. The last part is always a bit disheartening for me--when I'm physically present in a room with women older than me, who can see me and people my age there, but then question our existence or commitment to action. I guess it's fair enough in some ways--a lot of women my age don't identify with feminism for reasons both legitimate and totally ridiculous--but to sort of dismiss those of us who do have a sense of feminist identity and connection to a movement is just really sad. As disappointing as those sentiments are, I have a lot of faith in third wavers--I have only to look at my friends from social justice circles and women's studies at Michigan, or to have conversations with my brilliant coursemates here, or to spend an evening with the conference planning team to know that feminist action might look different than it did in 1970, but it's still alive and badass.

Oh, and Louise got some fab feedback about our work on the conference in an email that she shared with us and made at least a few of us a bit teary:

"Thanks again to all of you who were involved in bringing about the wlm40conference. It was not simply very informative but very energizing (and for me at times moving). You are true successors of the women who organised the 1970 event at Ruskin."

(This is Una Versal-Suffrage, the knit suffragette that was donated to our conference. We had participants submit names for her, then drew one from the box. She is rad. )

On Saturday night after the conference was over, I went to the Moulin Rouge bop at Green Templeton college. It did feel really strange to go from something about women's liberation and empowerment to an event that struck me as a thinly veiled ruse to get girls to show up scantily clad and guys to ogle them, but my friends and I though a free bop at the end of term was a good opportunity for release, so we donned some feathers and headed over. For most of the night we were having a good time flailing around and singing along to lady gaga and beyonce, but then things took a turn for the worse. My friends and I were sitting outside to cool down (and get out of the serious STANK that the bop had developed) when two guys came up to one of us and started an interaction that can't really be described as anything other than sexual harassment.

One of them started touching my friend and wouldn't stop, and when she told him repeatedly to stop, the other guy started going on about the way that she was dressed and how dumb she was, etc. They wouldn't go away, and guy one just wouldn't stop touching her. Seeing that they wouldn't go away, I too got in their faces and told guy one to keep his hands to himself unless he wanted them broken, and guy two that no one was interested in his jackass opinions. Things escalated to the point that it was really just best to leave, since guy one, with his scary glazed drunk eyes and smirk was getting creepier by the minute.

That five minute encounter has been replaying in my mind for the past couple days. I am livid. It's infuriating that men feel entitled to approach and harass women; that they feel entitled to stay even when it's been repeatedly made clear that they are not welcome; that they may encroach on someone's person; that they justify doing these things by how someone is dressed; that we were displaced by their refusal to leave; that our fun was disrupted by their drunken advances. Granted, I didn't love the theme of the bop, and I think it's better to have bops like Kellogg's that haven't been obviously sexual or gendered (the 80's bop, heroes and villains). But even if every woman in the Moulin Rouge bop was dressed like a prostitute (which, p.s., was not the case), men, YOU DO NOT GET TO TREAT US LIKE PROSTITUTES (and then there's a whole other conversation about our ideas about how we treat prostitutes). What is it about costumes or clothes that is really so troublesome (I suspect it's not actually troublesome, and that it's just used as an excuse for skeezy men to do as they please)? You wouldn't confess your sins to a man in a priest costume; nor would you ask someone in a borrowed doctor's coat to remove your appendix.

That night was just one of many manifestations of sexism I've encountered in my time here. It's everywhere--in the lack of institutional support for our program, in the derision I get from customs agents, non-women's studies professors, and even many fellow students when I tell them what I'm studying, in the asinine comments and attidudes from the pretentious, arrogant, privileged little white boys debating at the union, at the bops and house parties, during one of which a male student started to demonstrate his bondage paraphrenalia on a female student despite her obvious discomfort, lack of consent, and moments of protest.

I don't really know where I'm going with this. It's so obvious to me that both sexism and feminism are still around....but there are definitely moments when I'm concerned about which one will have the last word. The movement continues, and sometimes it's wonderful and inspiring and I feel a strong sense of a history and continued presence of collective sisterhood in action...and sometimes it seems like the assholes of the world are winning. I guess we learn from the past, get creative when we need to, get aggressive when we need to (in my mental replays of Saturday night I've created an ending where I break some bones and make boys cry), and live to fight another day.

Becky and Duane's visit, part II

Sadly, Becky and Duane are a few days gone from the UK, but the second half of their trip remains to be reported.

Tuesday morning we dragged Duane out of bed (er, floor) at the crack of dawn and caught the train to Salisbury, where we jumped on the tour bus that goes to stonehenge. Actually there were three different trains we had to catch to Salisbury, and this is what happened on most of them:

Yeeees, sleeeeep. I'll be watching you....

And we finally arrived at Stonehenge, which is essentially a pile of rocks that no one can explain in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by some sheep:

But still a pretty cool pile of rocks that no one can explain. They realllly can't explain it, though. That's probably 85% of the content of the 30 minute audioguide tour--various ways of saying that the origins and purposes of stonehenge are mysterious.

Aside from being cool to see in person, Stonehenge was also an excellent photoshoot location.

Duane jumped for joy.

Claud came along on the trip, as well...

Duane was taking photos, per usual. This is how he looked for the majority of the trip.

And Duane and Becky took a page out of Claud's book. His pose IS inspirational.

Back in Salisbury, we had a hurried but amazing lunch at a Thai restaurant. Seriously, Becky's lunch came in a PINEAPPLE. And there were carrot flowers.

There was also a teapot that I really should've stolen. But we were too busy running to catch our train 12 minutes after our lunch came...

The train took us to Bath, where we saw Bath Abbey--

And, of course, the ancient Roman baths, which had been hidde for thousands of years underneath someone's house. I'm not really sure how that happens...

Duane and Becky took senior pictures at the Roman Baths---

And visited the Jane Austen museum...

On Wednesday I showed them around Oxford, and Duane took most of the pictures. I did take them to Christ Church, the college where the Harry Potter dining hall scenes were filmed.

I kind of go to school at Hogwarts...

Wednesday night we went to a guest night at Kellogg, where we enjoyed the food (and free wine) and they met some of my college friends.

Thursday I accompanied them to London town, where we found their baller hostel near Hyde Park, then walked through Kensington Gardens...

Clapping my hands by the Peter Pan statue. I believe in fairies.

We spent the rest of the day at the British museum, where we saw the Rosetta Stone, a bunch of mummies, hoards of french schoolchildren, and easter island statues. Then a quick trip down to Big Ben/Trafalgar square, and I was on my way back home.

It was so good to have friends from home here. I don't know if it's made me more or less homesick, as right around this time last term I was headed home for Christmas, and it's still all of March, April, May and June until I'm back in the mitten once more, but good nonetheless.

There'll probably be a term-end post later this week, then next week I'm off to Rome and Malta in search of sun and warmth.

Until next time, from all of us here to all of you there---

A cheery farewell.