If you know me at all, you know that my summer abroad program(me) at Oxford two years ago means pretty much the world to me. The friends I made there are some of my best and, unless senility hits early -- a possibility that seems all too threatening sometimes --, those summer's memories will be some of my most cherished forever and ever, amen.
So you can imagine the relative alacrity (gosh, that's a nice big word) with which I hopped on the next bus destined for the glorious city of Oxford. Manchester's International Society organizes trips to touristic areas throughout England every weekend and one of the first was to Oxford. And while I wouldn't have minded at all to go alone, I used my newfound influence over Aamna to drag her along. I say 'dragged along' but really, her presence was voluntary, I promise. Promise!
Come early Saturday morning, we stumbled out of bed at the ungodly hour of six, got ready, and walked out into the chilly air to the bus stop. Manchester's main road was absolutely empty, an unusual sight after the rush of Fresher's Week and the beginning of lectures. From there, we began the 3ish hour trip down south.
I'll skip over the invigorating hours of sheep-sightings, llama-farm-searching, past rolling green fields and little semi-detached English houses, straight to our arrival.
From the moment I saw signs pointing to Oxford, my face lit up in smiles and I sat up straight in my seat to press my nose to the window, gluing my eyes to the buildings blurring past. I was so, so excited.
It may sound silly, but Oxford is one of the few places I have felt entirely at home. The city has a hold on me that I will never be able to (nor do I ever want to) shake off. By the end of that short month
so many moons ago, I roamed those streets like they were my own with friends who were really, truly my soulmates. Leaving on the last day felt more like leaving home and my family than when I left Los Angeles this past September. I think it was the seemingly definite closure with which I left that city and my friends that summer that made the impact. Leaving LA was just a temporary goodbye, even though I knew a chapter in my life had most definitely ended and would never be the same. It's just different.
We parked in the bus lot by the ice skating rink that we had all skated in one Sunday (July 23, 2006 to be exact. No, I'm not that neurotic. I remember because it was my friend's birthday. I swear.) and the moment Aamna and I were out of the bus, we sped off towards the city -- my face bright with anticipation, Aamna's wary of my insanity.
It took a couple wrong turns, but once we found ourselves on a familiar street, I could navigate my way around the entire city. Mostly.
I had asked several of my Oxford friends to suggest things for me to do in the short time slot I had -- to relive memories, take pictures of favorite sites, etc. First stop was the beloved G&D's on St Aldate's, one of three local homemade ice cream parlors, home of the best ice cream you will ever have ever. And we were having it for breakfast. Since my psychology class had taken place just a bit down the narrow street, we used to go to G&D's every single day during our break for our daily dose of ice cream. When I say daily dose, I am not exaggerating. I ate ice cream every day for a month at around 10am. And then again later in the evening. Funnily enough, I think I lost weight that summer.
Back to the present. I practically skipped into G&D's, drinking in the most wonderful sense of familiarity before me. It was like a dream, being back there, in Oxford. Like I was having the most ridiculous case of deja vu and I was just stuck in the middle of it, while the world rushed around in another time. It was so weird and delightful all at the same time.
After snapping that picture, I walked up to the flavors, searching for my beloved banana. Sadly, there was none so instead I asked for a scoop of Oxford Blue on a cone and it was honestly the best thing I'd ever tasted in that moment. I don't know what it is that makes that ice cream -- specifically that flavor -- taste so good but it must have something to do with the amazingness that is Oxford itself.
Afterwards, we wandered around the city as far as possible. We went past the bridge to the quieter parts of town, where the new G&D's opened and we met a guy who works there and to whom we said 'cheech' and have dubbed Ben. Ben's a sweet guy.
He seemed only the slightest thrown by the appearance of who were possibly the two weirdest girls ever to walk through that door. We roamed the gorgeous Botanical Gardens, debating whether it was wise to attempt to punt, just us two. We decided against it because a) Aamna can't swim, b) we'd probably get raped by geese, and c) knowing us, we'd get tangled in some shrubbery down a tiny hidden away passage and get stuck in front of a massive sewage pipe, waiting in dread for someone to flush a toilet in the nearby flats. Believe me, it's happened before.
We strolled through Cornmarket, down to Christ Church, sat in the meadows,
walked up and down High Street several times
before turning to St Peter's College, where I stayed that summer. I was quite giddy with excitement as we got closer and closer, finally bursting as I stared up at the sandy stone walls of it's entrance. Unfortunately, visitors weren't allowed inside on the weekends but the kind porter allowed us into the immediate entry, in front of the grass that we are threateningly told to Please Keep Off on which we Always Always Sprinted Across.
We went over to Coffee Republic, back all the way to Carfax Fish & Chips which was closed, and tried to find the spot of our dearest kebab van. Most depressingly, there was construction going on at it's regular spot so I had no idea where it'd moved to. I'll find it again some day. Onward we went, around the Radcliffe Camera, the Bodlian (sp?), our Blackwell's, stopping for lunch at that little French cafe where the guy behind the counter said that I could be his third wife if I so chose. Into some shops to buy some souvenirs and into another to ask for directions to the Pitt Rivers museum.
'The what?'
'Pitt Rivers museum?'
*confusion* 'What sort of museum is it?'
*my turn to be confused* 'Uh.. a historical artifacts one?'
'Ohhhh, it's down that road...'
What? 'A historical artifacts museum?!' How does that differentiate it from any other museum? Sigh. Anyways.
Down the leafy, calm roads that lead to the University Parks and smaller museums and galleries. The Pitt Rivers rooms were closed due to construction (sigh) but we had fun going through the rest of the museum nonetheless. Then we wandered all the way back to the ice skating rink, round the outskirts of the city.
Mmmmm, Oxford. I was sad to leave it a second time but this ending had less definition. Now that I've gone there once more when I thought I'd never get to see it again, I feel the future is open to possibility more than it has been before. Who knows how that city is going to show up in my life again? Or rather how my life will lead me to show up there. It felt different going there after so long, in such different circumstances; it stood differently. I knew I unreasonably expected it to be exactly how I'd left it, frozen in time until I came back to press play. But I didn't mind so much that it wasn't. It was like meeting a friend I hadn't talked to in ages, only to find there were only glimpses in them that fit into my memory, but that we could still fit together as friends despite the time that had passed. It's the most perfect relationship with Home that I could ask for.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment