An Added Dose of Perspective

This past week has been a little surreal, to say the least. But the good news is that I've now returned to classes, am gradually moving around more and feeling more "normal" (if still not 100%), and am continuing to feel grateful for the best friends a girl could ask for. Here's a quick update on it all:

I've been staying at an awesome Oxford friend's flat since arriving back from France last Sunday. I'll probably stay here a few more days, but seeing as I'm getting closer to my old self I'm hoping to return to my own room by the end of the week or the weekend. Last week, for the first time in a very long time, all I did was sit around and try to feel better. My body didn't want to do much more, and I felt utterly spoiled by all the friends who came by to bring me goodies and cook me dinner and chat with me on the couch for hours on end. I've rarely had such sociable days, and everyone's support was truly tremendous -- only a week later, on Saturday night, did I have the apartment to myself! If there's a silver lining to all this, it's that I've seen the best come out in many, many people, and have gotten to know several Rhodies and fellow Oxford people far better as a result.

Over the weekend, I finally made it out a few times (what, fresh air!), walking close by to visit with a friend who came up from London on Saturday and then attending part of the TEDx Oxford event that took place here on Sunday. It still felt like a good idea to stay off my feet, though, so each night I'd plop down on the couches back at the flat and make conversation for a few more hours and then go to bed. Sleep wasn't coming too easily the first few nights after the accident, but has since gotten better, as has my overall physical comfort level/balance/cognitive ability. As someone who's used to being very physically and mentally active, I'm not the best at sitting around feeling headachy and concussed and sore. Which made me wonder how classes were going to be this week.

I've made it out to two classes thus far, plus a doctor's appointment this morning that went well, and though I'm still not feeling completely normal I'm glad to be easing back into things. My two-hour seminar on J.M. Coetzee today was a bit of a struggle, and I'm pretty sure I don't remember any of my professor's comments from yesterday about periodicals and the magazine publishing industry, but at least I went. All this has given me a fresh appreciation for the things my body is usually able to do -- think, read, write, make constructive comments in class, rush all around Oxford with a backpack on all day, have energy to power through a full day's schedule, etc. I'm not able to do any of those things as well as usual right now, and I'm trying to cut myself some slack while being a bit more thoughtful about what similar frustrations must mean for other people. I also find myself wandering through my days with an added dose of big-picture perspective. Nothing like a serious accident scenario to make you reflect upon what's important and what's not. And, may I say again, I'm glad to have all the good things and good people in my life that I do right now.

Now that's enough thinking and writing for the moment. Back to eating, which is what I suspect I do best anyway...

A Week in a French Castle

First of all, I know many of you reading this blog have already heard about the stressful situation in which my trip to France ended. Rest assured, I am all right while writing this (and am back in Oxford with some of the most caring people I could ask for), but I'll get to that part later. Before then, let me recount what was otherwise a rather amazing week:

We left for the castle on Monday, flew from the London Stansted airport to Limoges (after spending over three hours stuck on a bus in Monday-morning London traffic feeling uncertain of whether we would actually make our flight), and then hopped in a rental car to head to Chateau Marouatte. Seven of us had made the trip together, though even more would join later in the week, and we absolutely squished ourselves and our bags into our car before winding through the picturesque French countryside for the two-hour drive. I had never rented a car in Europe before, only taken trains and public transportation; moreover, I had never traveled in France outside of Paris. So I really enjoyed seeing the different towns and villages that we drove through, all surrounded by gently rolling hills and gnarled trees and meadows. We crossed many cute bridges and canals, and parts of the scenery looked like they belonged in a storybook. (That would hold true for much of the trip.) At long last, and after stopping at the grocery store to pick up a ridiculous amount of food, we arrived at the castle -- and a castle it was indeed, high on a hill with towers and ramparts overlooking the valleys below. With many oooohs and ahhhhs we took our first tour of the rooms before settling our stuff into the bedrooms we would be sleeping in for the week. I somehow wound up with the master bedroom of the castle, which was huge, furnished in an 18th century gold-gilded style, and had a bed with room for at least four people. (I slept in that bed by myself that night and thought, no way am I ever going to have such nifty sleeping arrangements ever again.) We cooked dinner together, toasted each other with wine, played some chess and poker, and then I was off to bed.

Chateau Marouatte is a castle that dates back to the 13th or 14th century, though it has obviously been added to and restored since then, and I woke up on Tuesday morning marveling again at its decor and details, as well as at some of its larger architectural aspects like stone towers and ramparts and spires. We had a relaxing morning and cooked breakfast and did some reading before the sun came out after lunch and we headed out to take some photos, then drove to the nearest town for some more exploring (and more grocery shopping; feeding several dozen people in a castle requires a lot of food!). More people arrived late on Tuesday night, and we had dinner all ready for them, plus a lot of conversation and laughter. The group mainly consisted of Rhodes and Marshall scholars, as well as a few other friends of friends. There were around 15 Rhodies there total, seven or eight Marshalls, and assorted friends and awesome people joining us for the week. My own good friend from Stanford, Reagan, traveled out to be in the castle with us, and fit right into the group after dinner as we moved to the castle's "throne room" for more games and fun.

Wednesday we got up late, took our time in the morning, and then were off to see some prehistoric cave paintings in the area in southwestern France. Apparently the region is home to some of the best-preserved cave paintings that have been discovered in Europe, and some of these caves are still open to the public or for small private tours. More pretty French scenery abounded on the drive, and the cave we went to was hidden back in the crevice of a rock wall overlooking a valley that, in my opinion, looked appropriately prehistoric for what we were about to see. (By which I mean it was rough and rugged, with many outcroppings of stone and some open plains that I could imagine populated with bison or woolly mammoths. I wish I had been able to get photos.) Our guide, who spoke very accented French so that I got some of his remarks but by no means all, opened the locked door to the cave (closed because of vandalism that has happened in the area) and took us back down a passageway of mottled, coral-like rock walls lit by small dancing lights. We went back, back into the cave, and the air got much warmer than it was outside, rising to 60F with high humidity. Apparently this is normal for these sorts of caves, and has preserved the paintings over many thousands of years. We ducked under stalactites and weaved our way around rocks until we were deep, deep into the cave itself. The walls were around five or six feet apart, a little more in some places, and the crevice of the cave loomed straight up overhead. There, our guide stopped us, gathered us together in a little group, and showed us the first of our cave paintings. We saw bison head-to-head and tail-to-tail, horses running and prancing, and deer bounding up against the walls. The low light in the cave played with the surface of the rock we were looking at, and our guide explained how this three-dimensional effect created a heightened impression of depth and of art. He also pointed out the different engravings on the walls that accompanied each painting, the different colors, the elements of composition. I felt as if I had been transported into a distant past. When we walked out, forty-five minutes later, I was almost dazed to return to a time millennia later, and in the light no less. Again, I wish I had been able to get photographs.

Once out of the cave, we had no time to waste, since it was back to the castle for the night's entertainment: the Great Gatsby party that one of our castle compatriots had been promoting and planning for weeks. The group of us who had gone cave-exploring grabbed dinner on the way, got back to the castle, changed into dresses (or tuxes in the guys' case), and headed to the throne room to get the party rolling. And what a party it was. Wine, champagne, card games, pool, dance parties, music, and many shenanigans, all in formal attire in a castle in France. We were heady and carried away with the entire vibe of the night by the time the clock struck midnight, changing the date to January 16 -- my birthday. The group of castlegoers sat me down in the big throne, gathered together, and signed a very hilarious but also very sweet rendition of "Happy Birthday" before launching off to the night's next activity, solving the murder mystery whodunit that our own "Mr. Gatsby" had laid out for us. (The murder mystery question: who killed Mary Eaton, and why, and how? For those who don't know, Mary is our beloved Rhodes House registrar and one of the sweetest, kindest British ladies you will ever meet. Clearly solving her "murder" was of high importance.) I finally made it to bed very late, and then woke up later in the morning to continue the birthday festivities.

Which were great. This goes down as one of my most memorable birthdays -- spent in a castle in France with some incredible people. I had some annoyances to go through with submitting Oxford program applications in the morning, and with struggling with computer problems and castle internet, but once that part was done we all loaded up in the cars and drove to the small French city of Perigueux for my birthday dinner. A few of us got there in the late afternoon, grabbed crepes, and walked around ogling at churches and window chocolate displays and French goodies before everyone gathered at the restaurant for dinner. Afterwards, we headed back to the castle, where I was ready to go to bed -- except two friends managed to lure me out to the big throne room again to "say goodnight." Of course I got there and the party had started back up, with balloons filling the room and some big cards and surprise macarons and chocolates and a little tiara for me to wear. We celebrated some more, laughed at pictures from the previous night, played some games, and then it was really time for bed. What a birthday, indeed.

Friday morning we got up and prepared to go out wine tasting in Saint Emillion, a famous vineyard region near Bordeaux. Three cars headed out for the day, and we got to our first winery around midday, enjoyed the scenery and two good Grand Chu red wines, and then stopped in the town of Saint Emillion itself for a late lunch. After lunch we headed to our second winery of the day, tried two more reds, took photos, laughed, and got back in the cars to go back to the castle for dinner. It had been a wonderful day, accentuated by the blue skies and sun, and the vineyard region was stunning, miles of rolling hills with straight rows of grapes and lovely French chateaus and buildings. I settled back in for the ride with the five other people in the car -- and that's about the last thing I remember until a little while later.

It was truly unfortunate that such a great day (and great trip) should have ended in a crisis, but on the way back to the castle on that Friday night the car I was riding in had a severe accident involving a bus on one of the French roads. I won't post many details here, since I've disclosed them personally elsewhere, but with the seriousness of the crash we are very, very fortunate that nothing worse happened. I wound up with a concussion, some cuts that required stitches, and two fractured (but non-displaced) vertebrae, and had to stay in the hospital overnight. The other people in the car were mostly okay, with some more concussions and cuts all around. By far the worst outcome was for my friend Reagan, who suffered serious injuries and will be in the hospital for a while, though her long-term prognosis is good. For all of you reading this, please keep her especially in your thoughts and prayers. I'm very grateful nothing worse happened, and am also unspeakably grateful for the Rhodes friends who were able to be with me that night (and who have been with me during the days since). Their preparedness, competence, assurance, strength, selflessness, and grace under fire were truly astonishing.

Enough about that. I'm back in Oxford now, recovering at a friend's flat for a few days and missing class this week as I try to stay off my feet and rest my head and feel better, and have been thoroughly spoiled by the friends who have come to bring me food and keep me company. If nothing else, this entire experience has brought out the very best in some people I know and has shown me the remarkable friends I am fortunate enough to have. I'm hoping for a quick recovery for myself and for everyone.

But, all in all: Rhodes/Marshall castle trip 2014 was an amazing experience, even if our Gatsby theme may have been ill-chosen: as someone half-jokingly pointed out, Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby ends in a car wreck so we should have seen it coming. (I'm sorry if that came across as tasteless, which it probably was, but then I'm the one who has been joking about having no memory and about "feeling like I'd been hit by a bus" ever since Friday night. Humor is the best medicine?) Here's to more good friendships, some much-needed healing, and to continued safety in 2014. Thank you all for your support, thoughts, emails, messages, and prayers.

Off to France

Well, I spent most of break feeling guilty for not doing more schoolwork for Oxford, and then I got back here and cranked out two master's program applications. (Sometimes it really is better to take a few days completely to relax and then put your nose to the grindstone. Note to self, keep remembering this.) Still working on that DPhil app, but it's not due until next week so I'll keep grinding it out -- and, in the meantime, it's off to France tomorrow for the last week of break!

And this isn't just any trip to France. Back in November, one of the other Rhodies sent out a lengthy and impossibly imaginative email to the rest of us. He had an idea (people here, as I've noted, tend to have big ideas), and he wanted us all on board. Why not gather a large group and go find a castle in Europe and rent it together for the last week of winter break? I repeat, a castle. When else, after all, would we ever have the chance to do this?

It was an outlandish, ridiculous, wonderful idea, and a bunch of us gunned for it. So, a group of Rhodies (as well as some Marshall scholars and friends-of-friends and other people, around 25-30 total) will be headed to Chateau Marouatte, near Bordeaux in southwestern France, for a week. The chateau is a 14th-century castle near wine country, and activities for the week include wine tasting (of course), visiting some prehistoric cave paintings in southern France, exploring the castle grounds, and having banquet-hall parties and epic games of hide-and-go-seek. And my birthday. Which will probably be the most unusual, far-flung, fantastic birthday I've ever experienced with these travels and these friends (including my good friend Reagan from Stanford who will be coming along). I won't post any pictures here until I have my own!

Until the next post, may these noble knights and ladies march forth for yonder castle walls...

Back in Oxford!

I write this after having been reunited with the library in Oxford. Or one of them, at least, to kick off many more days spent in libraries and cafes this term… The immediate task at hand is to read a bit of Faulkner and work on DPhil and other program applications for next year, to make up for my laxness over the preceding few weeks of break. Back to that in a minute.

My travels across the pond went as smoothly as I could have asked (good karma after my rough travels back home?), I think because I managed to avoid the so-called "polar vortex" sweeping the Midwest and northeast United States by taking the southern route through Houston. I think I'm getting better at this jet lag thing, too, or at least the coffee and accumulated rest/sleep from the break has been on my side. Still, what was not reassuring was arriving back in Oxford to see how wet it is here! It's been raining in the UK since I left (big newsflash), and that has accumulated into a series of floods. Check out the link below:

http://www.airexperiences.co.uk/aerial-photography/uk-floods-oxford-water/

This is what Oxford currently looks like, or at least the land immediately surrounding Oxford. The river near Christ Church meadow is huge, swollen, and flooded, and on the bus driving in yesterday I saw that Magdalen's deer park is now a deer pond (they better have evacuated those deer, or at least given them snorkels). I talked to someone today who lives in Abingdon, on the outskirts of Oxford, whose house is on the brink of being flooded, and heard of a few other people whose basements have filled with water or who have had to evacuate elsewhere for a few days. Fortunately, the area immediately in central Oxford and around St. John's and my usual part of town has been wet but relatively normal! What a jolt from New Mexico, whose skies were cloudless and impeccably, gorgeously blue when I left. It has stopped raining here, though, or at least spits down from time to time but not every moment…

I've gotten to catch up with some friends already (though only after getting myself caffeinated) and have turned my energy to those program apps, or tried to. My current program is a one-year MSt degree in English literature, but the Rhodes scholarships will pay for at least two years of study at Oxford -- and essentially everyone stays for at least that long. (Some people seem never to leave!) I knew when I started here that I'd face the challenge of deciding what to do after the first degree for the subsequent year(s). I more or less have two options: continue my studies in English literature and stay for three(ish) more years to get a DPhil, the UK equivalent of a US PhD, or change fields and get a second one-year MSt in a different subject. Current candidates for subject include US history, education, and policy. Each option has a few pros and cons:

Getting a DPhil would be a logical continuation of my current studies, which I'm enjoying. It would be paid for, and would give me the chance to stay in Oxford for three more years rather than just one. I would be able to focus on researching my thesis and pursuing my interests and wouldn't take any further classes, and would have the time to write and read and think for myself. Which sounds amazing. But I do sometimes want to branch out from English literature. If I do go into academia in the future, to teach at an American university, I've often been told that it would be better for me to get an American PhD rather than a British DPhil. Furthermore, it is an additional investment of time, even if getting a doctorate sometimes sounds unbelievably attractive to me (and sometimes sounds like an academic soul-sucking monster). I wake up each morning, still, and think differently about all this.

On the other hand, getting another MSt would give me the aforementioned opportunity to branch out, and to do so within a structured, taught master's program. I could complement my current interests with a different disciplinary perspective, and read/study something besides English literature for a change. Well-roundedness! Breadth! Employing the language and viewpoint of a different set of insular academics! Getting a breather before going on to either a job somewhere or more grad school back in the US! But my interest in the prospective academic programs sometimes flags (depending on the day; other days it sharpens), or I feel pulled in different directions, or don't feel qualified. We'll see what happens.

So, that's where I stand. Application deadlines are in two weeks (a little earlier for me since I'll be applying through Rhodes), and my plan is to pin down a set of prospective programs, crank out some personal statements, and see what options surface by the end of the year. Then I'll decide. And then I will, of course, expect that the future will magically clear up and with it I'll have my 10-year -- no, my 20- or 30-year life plan in hand.

Onward; send any clarity-inducing thoughts my way!

Was Oxford a Dream? And Other Thoughts From This Side of the Pond

From this side of the pond, and from this side of the new year, Oxford feels like a dream. New Mexico is so fundamentally different from England, in everything from food (delicious and spicy) and weather (clear blue skies and sunny every day) to overall lifestyle and culture (cowboy boots, pickup trucks). It's been easy to feel like my whole experience there this past fall has retreated into the distance, like my return to the land of gloomy gray skies and centuries-old stone is not imminent.

But imminent it is. Ever since arriving home just about three weeks ago, I've spent time basking in everything New Mexico, everything I've missed while living overseas. A few good Stanford friends came to visit over the course of the break, which was a huge treat and admittedly made me miss the Farm more than I have since leaving in June. (Part of me still thinks I'm going back to Stanford for winter quarter, I think, and it throws my mind for a spin to realize that I've moved on to a new part of my life.) I've caught up with local friends and family and spent more time eating chile than I should. Getting back in riding shape, at least somewhat, has also been so, so good. And that Oxford reading I promised myself I'd do over the break? I've knocked off several novels from the contemporary fiction class I'll be taking during Hilary term, though I have yet to finish those DPhil and MSt applications looming over my head for later this month. All in all, I'm feeling rested and with that comes a sense of inertia, a sense of disbelief that my time at home could be nearly over, even while I've had time to anticipate the excitement that awaits me once I return overseas. Which I will, this coming Tuesday. A few more days in the Land of Enchantment, then back to Oxford for around five days, then on to the southwestern part of France for the week before classes resume on January 20. Break isn't quite over, but I'm approaching a new chapter of this journey. It's strange not knowing the next time I'll be home, but 2014 has so much to look forward to.

At some point in the upcoming travel whirlwind, I'd like to reflect on what Michaelmas term meant to me and what I'd like to do with my time at Oxford going forward, so stay tuned!

Among the things I've enjoyed at home -- and the things I will miss -- is this cute, fluffy face.