One of the things few people mention about studying abroad is that, for the most part, it’s possible to tune out the fact that you’re actually abroad. This might not be true in more exotic locales like Guatemala, Timbuktu and Mars; however, it is definitely the case in Oxford. Some days, the biggest difference between here and Tampa is that there is a slightly different view out the window.
If you’ve been monitoring my increasingly frantic Facebook status changes, you know I had hoped to do some traveling recently. I don’t think my plan to go to London was quite equivalent to asking for the moon. I know people who insisted they were going to go backpacking through Europe every other weekend. We could not have been more wrong.
Due to Mother Nature’s violent uprising against human civilization, it wasn’t even possible to get to London this weekend. Hadrian’s Wall – built by the Roman Empire before they, too, got sick of the weather – proved to be five hours away by train, the situation such that my housemate and I would be paying 13 pounds per hour to become intimately acquainted with the British rail system.
I believe we ended up going to Krispy Kreme (conveniently located at Oxford Castle) instead. After having a donut and a drink of cheese, which had no doubt begun its life a short time earlier as milk, we decided to refocus our plans on Oxford. Our attempts to escape it had reached “Groundhog Day” proportions. At the time of this writing, I am still not certain whether there is actually a United Kingdom or if I have somehow stumbled onto the scene of a massive “Truman Show”-style conspiracy.
In search of adventure, danger and love, we retreated to the ever-helpful offices of the program that handles our study abroad experience. We had been informed early on that it would not do for us to sit in the library day in-day out and do our work. This came as a surprise, since it was what I had been doing for several years at the University of Tampa.
Resolved to make the most of the day or two left in our Oxford term, my friends and I set out.
We had been directed to a “bop” being held at New College (which is only about 650 years old). We passed under the huge stone walls of New College, built to repel invasions from uppity townsfolk, at around 10 p.m. I had never really understood why the relationship between the University and the city had been so contentious, with centuries of invasions, counter-invasions, riots, assassinations and all other manner of carnage.
Then I saw the “bop.”
The name is misleading since there were so many hundreds of people packed into such a small space that I don’t believe there was much room for any actual “bopping.” Granted, there was a pit, with a strobe light of some kind, where many students (mostly freshmen) were jerking spasmodically. Alcohol was flowing freely, though I have no idea of the quantity or price because, although I began with the intention of making my way across the room, I was soon propelled by the tectonic motion of the throng into a corner where I spent the rest of the evening.
Occasionally, someone would pass by dressed in full costume as a superhero. Having left my Superman cape at home, I was unable to participate. I’m still not certain whether these were particularly spirited students or they had just been tricked by upperclassmen. Part of the room had spontaneously broken out into the cha-cha just as I was leaving.
As my loyal readers know, I have done everything within my power to raise the profile of the United States in my adopted home. I’ve finally realized what the next step must be. Every once in a while, you hear of “sister cities” abroad which have been “twinned” with cities in the U.S. After seeing the New College “bop,” a spectacle repeated all over the colleges of Oxford that night, I am convinced that Oxford has found its “twin” in the U.S.: Ybor City.
This can only be good news for the University of Tampa, which can now begin referring to itself as the “Oxford of the South” with impunity. I recommend that plans for Residence Hall XXI-MMCXII be scrapped immediately in favor of an aggressive expansion plan on the Thames River. In exchange, Oxford should donate some of its legendary kebab vans so that I can continue my revolutionary new “Kebab Van Diet.”
Ladies and gentlemen, I swear to continue my thankless efforts to escape from Oxford. At the end of term, I have made plans to travel to Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Germany, France and Spain – though in practice, the gravity of Oxford is so intense that I may settle for visiting a sausage factory in Munich, and call it a day.
Because studying abroad is supposed to be one of the best experiences of your life – and I could really go for a sausage.