Week 6: Complete

Another week down. Another week of library study sessions, trying to get reading done for class, roving all about town, grabbing tea and lunch and dinner, meeting with faculty members, drafting up dissertation and final paper proposal ideas, hitting up different college halls, going to the pub, and generally realizing that the best thing about this place is its people. At the end of a long day of studying, when I feel as if I'm never going to get to the end of my reading list, or when I feel as if I'll never be able to articulate my ideas clearly in writing, I take a break and swap stories with new friends here, discover how much we have in common and also how many different experiences we have to share with each other, and leave feeling as if I've gotten a larger dose of perspective. I spend all day thinking about English literature; my friends think about topics ranging from history to physics to philosophy to international relations (and beyond). We're all whirling along through this crazy Oxford experience, and that shared student solidarity has been the highlight of each day, by far. I've only got two weeks left in the term and a lot of reading and writing to do, plus a big Thanksgiving dinner to organize for next week (I somehow wound up as the committee chair for the big day), but I'm still trying to take every moment for friendships, conversation, and shared reflections that I can. That's what makes life here so rich, and the rest of it isn't as worth stressing over as I'd sometimes like to think.

Other new experiences add their own liveliness, too; for instance, today I went to a BSL class session for Oxford's Disability Awareness Week, and felt completely turned around by all the new signs and all the differences (and even similarities) that BSL has compared to ASL. The signs for "what" and "where" are swapped in the two languages, for instance -- very confusing for this American girl! "Please" and "thank you" are also the same sign in BSL, and the BSL two-handed alphabet is of course very different from fingerspelling in ASL. A small group gathered in Oxford's Disability Advisory Service building to learn, and while practicing with the other students I kept itching to sign fluently to them in ASL, but had to put that knowledge aside and admit that I was just as new to BSL as they. I lacked any vocabulary, indeed lacked any semblance of language. This was a new and bewildering place for me, since I'm so used to signs flowing effortlessly off my hands, and I think it gave me an added measure of empathy for my friends who have put in the effort of learning ASL over the years. (I'm feeling added gratitude for those friends right now!) Keeping the vocabulary straight, trying foreign motions with my hands, and trying to piece together sentences and phrases with a language I barely knew was a challenging, stimulating experience.

Then I got to turn around this afternoon and, after coffee with an American friend who is learning ASL, headed to Rhodes House for another weekly signing session (yes, by that I mean ASL signing). Settling back into the familiarity of my sign language, I looked around the room at all the faces of the people who had turned up to learn, thought about how much they'd picked up already and how much intellectual curiosity it took for them to pursue this new language, and felt so very glad to know and be able to communicate with them. We signed for a while, then headed out to a Christmas festival taking place in Oxford this weekend (of course the Brits, not having Thanksgiving on the calendar, leap straight into the Christmas festivities as early as they can). As I said, the best part of this new place is the people, the moments of personal connection I'm finding here. The rest is just frosting on the cake.

Weekend Excursion to London and Wales

Quick post, since I've got a monster of a week ahead of me (and since the last three weeks of term are looking like a sprint down to the finish with classes, papers, lectures, weekend trips, and social events -- so goes it at Oxford). I somehow made it intact to the end of last week, then hopped on a bus and headed to London on Friday night to spend the weekend with a good friend from Stanford, Reagan. She was in my freshman dorm, was my roommate junior year, and also came to Oxford to study abroad the last time I was here through the Stanford program. She's also one of the kindest, most remarkable people I know, and I was thrilled when she decided to pursue a master's program at LSE this year when I was at Oxford. Reunion time in the UK! After some chatting at a pub on Friday night with some of her friends, we spent the night at her flat in London, and then made a trek out to Wales all day on Saturday.

Reagan and I took this exact same photo three years ago in London -- flashback Friday!

Lights dancing off the Thames at night

And, well, I can't say I understood any Welsh (and were the signs strange there with all the long, convoluted Welsh words with their numerous "w"s and "y"s!), but Reagan and I had a fun time wandering around Cardiff, visiting a castle, grabbing Welsh rarebit and sausage for lunch at a cozy cafe, and then stopping for cake later before boarding the bus back to London. I'd wanted to go to Wales for a while, and although we had joined a quick one-day bus trip and didn't have very much time to explore, the change of scenery (not to mention the company) was very welcome after a solid couple of weeks in Oxford.

Cardiff Castle

Just one example of Welsh-language oddities

On Sunday, Reagan and I got up and visited a few markets in London, then stopped at an Indian restaurant for lunch and some good conversation with her flatmates. An hour later, my face stuffed, I proceeded to hop over to Leicester Square to… stuff my face even more, since I'd been able to plan afternoon tea with some of my new deaf/signing/ASL friends in London. I got to meet a few more amazing American deaf ladies over the course of the afternoon, all of whom have found themselves in the UK for various reasons, and had a wonderful time talking (I mean signing!) about many different topics over tea and scones and sandwiches. Three and a half hours later, I couldn't believe how the time had flown, and had to head back on the tube to make the bus back to Oxford. As I started the trip back, I realized how positively happy this weekend of friend time (both new and old) had made me feel.

And that wasn't the end of it, either -- a friend of mine in Oxford had mentioned that she'd be cooking Mexican food with a larger group of Rhodies, so I naturally had to stop by once I got back. "Stopping by" turned into another two-hour conversation over yet more food and yet more dessert, which meant going to bed late, without having done any work the entire weekend, and with an early-morning rowing practice awaiting me at 6am this morning. Alas, c'est la vie. I'm feeling very fortunate to know and spend time with such wonderful people here. Now, back to locking myself in the library...

Just in Case There is Doubt About Whether I Do Schoolwork Here...

...fear not! Dissertation proposal due this weekend, plus an outline for my major end-of-the-term paper due next week. And that's without mentioning the piles of books I still need to read for both. The enjoyable part is that I got to spend most of today reading Jhumpa Lahiri's The Lowland (yes, for one of the aforementioned classes); I truly admire her style and always enjoy reading her prose, so it's a treat to get to do that for "assigned" schoolwork. Toni Morrison's Beloved is up next, and is also a book I've always held in high regard. I'm hoping to start it tonight, and the next few days will likely involve some combination of sitting in libraries, drinking tea, and trying to crank out some actual academic writing for the first time since I graduated from Stanford.

And just in time to flex those writing muscles, too, since I've also got to start thinking about which academic program I want to do next year, since I'm currently enrolled in a one-year MSt -- yikes! It seems like I've just arrived, but one can never stop thinking one step ahead for those kinds of things. Options currently include a DPhil in English or a second MSt degree in a different subject, but my thoughts on this issue change from day to day (sometimes from hour to hour) and I'll need to sit myself down and do some soul-searching about what I want to do. More on that later.

More to follow in a future post, too, about the structure of classes here (and their differences from in the US/at Stanford), but it's buckle-down time in Oxford. This eight-week term does get ridiculously short at times, and the time crunch is looming now that it's week five... gogogogogogo.

Remember, Remember

One of the strangest holidays in the UK, at least for this American, is Guy Fawkes Day.

Remember, remember!

The fifth of November

The gunpowder treason and plot,

I know of no reason

Why the gunpowder treason

Should ever be forgot...

And it still hasn't been forgot, indeed, judging by the droves of people who still turn out for fireworks and bonfires over the course of the week around November fifth. The actual Guy Fawkes holiday wasn't the only day for festivities; from Halloween and last Friday night (November 1) through last night (November 9), I saw no fewer than four fireworks displays around Oxford, with many other "pops" and "bangs" thrown in, indicating that yet more were taking place as I went about other activities. (The first time I was in my room and heard this telltale banging, I thought I was going mad because I couldn't figure out what the sound was, much less where it was coming from. Then I opened my window -- ah, mystery solved.) There were also several bonfires around town, the largest one being a charity bonfire last night in a large park by Headington, a short walk out of Oxford.

So, last night a few good friends and I headed over to watch the marquee Guy Fawkes fireworks display and bonfire. On the ninth of November rather than the fifth, but who's counting? To be honest, the fireworks display we'd had at St. John's last week had been a bit, erm, disappointing (think one small firework being ignited at a time, over the course of only around 10 minutes). An American friend and I spent much time afterwards bemoaning and joking about this diminished British version of fireworks, but last night we found ourselves far more satisfied -- the fireworks were spectacular, even if we had to stand around in the cold for half an hour waiting for the marshals to set them up or figure them out (or something), and immediately afterward the bonfire began to blaze. I'd been to this same event my last time at Oxford (as had another friend of mine who studied abroad with her university; our mutual/separate memories of our time abroad make for some good conversation), and admittedly it had been more impressive then, with a huge wooden effigy to set on fire in addition to the enormous stack of pallets. But by that time we were so cold that we just gazed at the gulping flames for a few minutes, got closer to see if we could feel the heat (it was radiating everywhere), took a few photos, and then skedaddled to, where else, a pub to warm up. I can't say I understand the reason for celebrating Guy Fawkes Day, even three years after I first celebrated it in the UK, but if it makes for some cozy nights and bonding experiences, all the better.

St. John's Murder Mystery Dinner

One of the things I've learned so far in Oxford is how to take the time to enjoy the wealth of social and exploratory opportunities here. I've gotten a lot of invitations to formal dinners, cocktail parties, lectures, teatimes, social outings, pub nights, and so forth. Part of that is simply part of this strange new Oxford lifestyle, and the way it hails back to nineteenth-century gentrified society, and part of it is simply, well, because I've made more of an effort to make myself available for these occasions. During my time at Stanford, I was very much the kind of person who would go out every once in a while, but who mostly disliked that kind of thing -- noisy parties, especially those involving alcohol and drinking games, weren't my idea of fun at all, and still aren't. I think the Oxford definition of revelry is slightly different, however, because even though people here do drink a lot, and do partake in the pub-hopping culture very often, the social landscape has more of a relaxed, conversational vibe despite its frequent formality of dress. (By which I mean, no frat parties and beer pong, for the most part.) Dressing up and unwinding with friends over a few glasses of wine or some good cider is much more in keeping with my definition of a good time -- and, because I've chosen to prioritize those kinds of social functions more here than I did during undergrad, I've gotten plenty of opportunities to do just that.

Which brings us to the latest week of social outings, which started with a few formal hall dinners and pub nights in the beginning and middle of the week, as well as one very fun night of cooking with a friend (and fellow Rhodie) from Stanford. I had quite a bit of academic work to do this week, including some reading and a presentation -- yes, I am doing schoolwork here and should post about that at some point -- but decided to stray from my usual M.O., let the academic anxiety go, and make time for friends throughout the week nonetheless. It may have meant a few less hours of sleep some nights, but was thoroughly enjoyable, and the fast-paced "Oxford buzz" that I've been feeling kept me going through the end of the week, which led to a special St. John's guest dinner last night. These dinners take place once or twice per term, are black-tie events, and involve copious drinks and a four-course meal served in the hall of the college. The theme was murder mystery, which promised a good time (but which ultimately did not materialize in its planned form, despite some swanky decorations, due to the less-than-clear directions on what either the "murder" or the "mystery" entailed). I tossed on my red dress after a Friday afternoon of studying (thanks again for the dress shopping help, Mom), went with some good friends I've made here, and enjoyed the 2+ hours of conversation by candlelight in the hall. (They were bright candles, and people were seated close enough to me and were considerate enough to sign as much as they knew how, so I surprised myself by how much I was able to engage. Having good people around helps.)

Course after course passed, and finally the evening culminated with us hitting up the end of the Rhodes House "meet and mingle" event in our dresses (and, for the guys, tuxes) and then going out to a pub with a crowd of people after. Needless to say, I stopped drinking after the dinnertime wine, which was quite enough for me... and got back and sprawled out on my bed at nearly 1am (late by my standards) after at least six or seven straight hours of socializing. Different from my usual fare, but in a good way!

Now, for a weekend of studying and working on this dissertation proposal, admittedly not without a few other fun things thrown in. More on that later.

Row, Row, Row Your Boat...

So, I got to Oxford thinking I wanted to try some new sport. It wasn't realistic to expect that I'd be able to make it out to ride more than every once in a while (and, indeed, I still have only made it out once during the last month that I've been here; more on that later, since I do miss the horses). And I'm also the sort of person who needs to be physically active in order to stay sane... what to make of that?

During my first few weeks at Oxford, then, I signed up for and tried out a bunch of different things. Fencing -- fun to try, but I couldn't see myself staying interested for that long. Beagling -- ditto, plus the time commitment of getting out of Oxford every single Saturday wasn't for me. Triathlon and pentathlon -- seriously, I considered both, but hate swimming and running so that was kind of a big problem. Cycling -- would still like to try it, provided that I can get my hands on a bike. Squash -- a friend has been teaching me, which has been fun despite my hilarious lack of coordination, but a casual session once a week with good company is enough for me. Football/soccer and running and so forth -- no way, forget it, especially with an old foot injury that would surely flare up within two or three days of doing those things. I have yet to try some other sports here, such as the walking club (which goes on hikes in various scenic places across the UK) and cricket and croquet. Rhodes House has its own cricket team in the spring, so I think I will be in for that when it comes!

And then there was also rowing, which I'd told myself I wasn't interested in. I'd tried it during my last time in Oxford, during my quarter of studying abroad through the Stanford program, and while I enjoyed it I also got pretty tired of the early mornings and freezing cold weather out on that river. Plus I'm essentially deaf out on the water, since I can't wear my hearing aid/cochlear implant (because of the submersion risk if the boat were to capsize), and need to rely on lipreading the coxswain in order to understand what's going on. That got tiring and stressful, and I told myself I wanted to stick to cozier sports that I felt more passionate about.

Until I started feeling like I needed more athletic structure in my life, after all, since I was getting very bored in the gym and couldn't muster the motivation to go out in the cold every morning to do something else on my own. And until I got an email from the St. John's College Boat Club, desperately seeking female rowers for one of their novice boats. A lot of my Rhodie friends have been rowing, and have enjoyed it as a way to meet people in their college, whereas I still feel like I haven't met as many people from St. John's as I would like.

So, all right. I emailed the boat club captains back, and this morning I found myself out in a boat once again, floating with oar in hand, and then stretching out my body and starting to row. It felt like returning to a past part of my life at Oxford, and under the sunrise and the mist and the swirling clouds in the sky I can't say even the cold was that unpleasant. I'm trying it for now to see how it goes, so stay tuned...

Americans Signing in the UK

A quick post to follow up on the last one: my ASL usage in the UK is indeed alive and well, also due in part to the opportunity to meet other deaf people, interpreters, and ASL users on this side of the pond. This isn't something I would have predicted even a few months ago, I have to say!

The very first time I applied to Oxford, for a Stanford overseas studies program three years ago during my junior year of college, I had one major trepidation hanging over my head whenever I considered my impending studies in the UK: how would I make my time at Oxford accessible? American Sign Language is, after all, very different from British Sign Language, and I'd become spoiled by excellent interpreters at Stanford (as well as in high school and back home in New Mexico, of course). How would I cope with a foreign country with foreign accents and where my preferred mode of access was scarce? I have to say the process was a little more difficult than I would have liked to start, but the Stanford in Oxford program did find a good interpreter agency based in London for my time abroad. They made provision for services, I came to Oxford and enjoyed working with the two interpreters I had that term, though I still needed to plan ahead for my classes and other events and wasn't able to request interpreters as quickly or easily as I had done at Stanford. And then I left. And don't think I realistically expected that I would be back anytime soon; chalk that one up to experience.

And then, two years later, when I applied for and got the Rhodes, I found out that more Oxford was in my future, indeed. Time for this whole ASL-in-the-UK thing again, except I felt much more prepared this time. What's more, my first time in Oxford had proven to me that it could be done, that American interpreters did exist on that side of the world. Over the summer, I was able to get back in touch with one of the interpreters I'd worked with my last time in Oxford; though he's not personally based in the UK anymore, his agency is still in London, and he still has a group of skilled interpreters working in the area. The Oxford Disability Advisory Service was glad to make contact with this agency, I daresay, since I suspect that getting an ASL interpreter wasn't something they had ever done before. Everything is set, they told me in September. So I sat and had to take their word for it. And I waited.

Fortunately, when I got to Oxford at the beginning of October, I showed up at the Welcome Day at Rhodes House and met the two primary interpreters I'll be working with this year, and liked both of them immediately. Since then, I've worked with a few other interpreters and have discovered that the overall interpreter-client relationship is different here than in the US. In short, we're all Americans, we're all expats, we're all part of a very small ASL-using group on this side of the world, and we rarely meet anyone who knows our language and, as a consequence, rarely have any chance to use it. (Okay, so signing Rhodes gatherings excluded, it is nice to have a conversation with someone who is fluent in sign. That's something I keep coming back to, over and over again, over the course of my life, even though I've generally become content with living in the hearing world.) We ASL users have to stick together, and so my interpreters introduced me to a group of other deaf Americans living in London and other parts of England.

A few of them I've only "met" digitally thus far, but earlier today we had our first gathering -- a group of them came up to visit me in Oxford. Sitting down with these deaf and signing Americans, chatting with them over cups of tea and bowls of soup, before heading out on a rambling tour of the city replete with even more conversations in sign, was the perfect way to spend my Sunday. Meeting other smart, talented, articulate deaf expats (some of whom are friends with some of my deaf friends back in the States) reminded me once again of how small the world is, and also reminded me of the importance of community and linguistic access. After grappling with international accents and new friends and classes and activities for the last few weeks (not to mention an entirely new culture and way of life here), it felt unbelievably reassuring to sit down, sign, and watch other people signing back. I grasped the motions of their hands and the expressions on their faces. No uncertain moments of introducing myself and saying, "Look, I'm deaf, and I'm reading your lips right now." No misunderstandings and endless queries for repetition. No missing the joke when the group conversation grew lively. A strong deaf community was something I never had at Stanford, though I did find a few deaf and signing friends around the Bay Area outside of the main Stanford campus. I'm smiling a little bit to realize that I may have tapped into a group of amazing deaf friends, interpreters, and ASL users in the very last place I might have expected -- thousands of miles away from home and the linguistic conventions that I enjoy. Here's to more of these expat gatherings (and signing sessions with hearing friends), and here's to recognizing the value and the understanding that a mutual language can provide.