Oxford

We arrived in Oxford two days ago by train from London. My oh so intelligent mother was invited here to give a speech on Reading Comprehension, which is why we came to England in the first place. Oxford is the oldest University in the world, not to mention one of the most famous and distinguished . Simply walking around the on the old cobble stone streets, and passing by the walls of countless years of history, you somehow instantly feel smarter, simply by being here. As we sat around a very long table last night for dinner (30 chairs long), in a dining hall that was lit by candles (think Harry Potter), with an enormous oil portrait of the original President of Oxford hanging on the 70 foot wall near the head of the table (imagine a very tall serious looking man in long black grim reaperesque cape with a staff and a red barrette),  it was agreed by all that our IQ’s had undoubtly increased even over the time from our first course to dessert!

The beauty of this place is of course all of the history and ornate buildings, but more than that it is how there is still an air of old time academia even in the present modern age. There are old bikes everywhere, no one walks around with a cell phone attached to their ear, old leather messenger bags and brief cases outnumber back packs. People carrying books tucked under the arm are more common than those with computers. It’s refreshing to see that such a historic place has managed to hold on to its roots and traditions despite the rapidly increasing modern world just outside (regretfully, I type this from a Starbucks on the outskirts of campus…it was the free WI-FI that sucked me in against my will!).

Because of my mother’s connections to the University here, we have been very lucky to get quite an intimate view of Oxford, one that you would never get if you were simply a visitor here. We have been put up in “guest professor housing” which is located right on campus in the St. John’s college (one of 30 colleges all comprising the U of Oxford). St. John’s college is 451 years old, which makes for a very magical and medieval setting. To get from building to building you pass though very narrow archways that lead to open courtyards with yards manicured beyond perfection. I am led to believe that even their gardeners and landscapers are graduates of Oxford. How else could they attain such perfection?!

Similarly to London there is an overwhelming international flare to the place. Foreign languages almost outnumber English. As I sat at a café reading yesterday I was surrounded by a group of three loud Frenchmen on my left, and four giggling German girls on my right. The person I ordered my Coffee from was Scottish, the man who brought it was Indian. The bartender who gave me water was South African, and his friend who sat at the bar was from Israel. If you count me in the mix as American, we have seven different nationalities represented in the short span of five minutes!

Tomorrow morning we will get up before the sun to return to Heathrow Airport and hop a plane to Florence. With any luck, I will next be writing from the terrace of our Tuscan villa, over looking the rolling hills dotted with Cyprus trees and endless rows of grape vines. With even more luck, there will be a glass of red wine in my hand and fresh pasta in my belly!