Last Week

I spent last week in Brecon, Wales at Alexanderstone Manor:

It might have been the best vacation I've ever had.  I'll write more about it, but here are a few photos to start.

My roommate Sonya and I below our bedroom window (second story), saying goodbye to the manor just before leaving.

And here's the view from that window:

And the view from the top of a nearby hill:

Happy!

St. Nicholas and GPA's

Every Monday night at 7:10 I ride my bike down to Keble College for choir practice.  We sing in this room:

Our concert is this coming Monday, and we're performing the work of St. Nicholas by Benjamin Britten, a twentieth-century British composer.

I never knew that St. Nicholas had such an interesting life:  We sing about swimming in bathtubs, pickled children, jeering sailors, sacks of corn, blinding lightning...

Choir practice is also a good time to meet British folk.  Last Monday during break I was chatting with a girl about the British college system versus the American system.  I learned that they don't really have grades.  I asked, "Do you even know what a GPA is?"  "Well, sort of," she said tentatively, "mostly just from watching films."  (I guess American movies are useful for many reasons.)

Pancake Day

Yesterday was Ash Wednesday.  And the day before was Shrove Tuesday... or, as they call it here, Pancake Day.

I had never heard of Shrove Tuesday or Pancake Day, only Mardi Gras, which I have never understood very well.  But I had no trouble figuring out how to celebrate Pancake Day.  Our church small group had a big pancake dinner.  We were told to Bring Your Own Pancakes, pre-made, which was new to me also, but I managed to transport my stack of pancakes on a bike without damaging them, even though they got cold by the time I arrived.

British pancakes are different.  The first time we made them (from a mix), we were concerned that they kept turning out flat (literally).  Eventually we realized that  British pancakes are supposed to be flat and squishy and dense, more like crepes:

And, like most things, they come in small quantities.  One of the mixes in the store had a serving size of 2.  Only 2 pancakes?  There's a reason we get groceries several times a week.

I decided I like Pancake Day.  Mom and Peter, let's celebrate this next year!

Thing 1 and Thing 2

Roommates!

I have two of them while I'm here:

One goes to school in Georgia, and the other in California.  I'm smack in the middle:  Dordt College, Iowa.  I was pleased that they both knew where Iowa was.

Here's Sonya, from St. Louis:

She almost always has this same sweet smile on her face.  She likes singing, reading Shakespeare out loud dramatically, sturdy walking boots, and scarves.  We met by chance in the noisy Heathrow airport the day we arrived.  She came up and said, "Um, are you by chance going to Oxford?"  "Yes!  You are too?"  "Yes -- I'm Sonya."  "Oo-hhh -- I think you're my roommate!"  She gave me a big hug.

And this is Meredith (Mere), from Oregon, looking deceptively scholarly in this photo:

She likes hedgehog socks, making tea for people, and biking fast down hills.  She is determined to make me cultured (mainly by playing Frank Sinatra music and making me watch Lord of the Rings).  She reminds me of my sister (she calls me names like "Punk," talks to me in odd voices at odd hours, threatens to curl my hair and take other liberties, and makes me proofread her papers).  She is perceptive and endearing and companionable.

...And here's the three of us together, out for Mere's birthday dinner at the Eagle and Child:

Strop & Squash

strop:  temper tantrum, sulk, mood

I learned this British term on Sunday in church.  I was confused because the energetic lady up front kept using this word.  (She was telling the story about King Ahab and Naboth's vineyard to the children.)   "King Ahab was in the most terrible strop," "King Ahab threw such a dreadful strop that he buried his head in his pillow," etc.  I deduced that strop must mean something like tantrum, a definition I confirmed via Urban Dictionary Online when I got home.

So far I have not had much trouble picking up British accents, but during the sermon I did look up suddenly when the pastor said, "And then Pizza denied Christ."  (Oh -- he said Peter, not pizza.)

After the service a friendly lady introduced me to her young son: "And this is my son Sohm."

"Pardon?"

"S-oh-m."

Puzzled face.

"S-A-M."

"Oh, S-a-m!" (this with my crisp Wis-can-sin pronunciation)

She smirked visibly, then caught herself, and apologized.

I was affable.  "It's all right.  Even the other Americans I'm staying with make fun of my accent."  I attempted the British version of Sam but she just laughed outright.

I couldn't help grinning whenever we sang a hard a in the songs, especially when they were American songs I knew.  "He has r-aw-nsomed me," etc.  What a delight to sing familiar songs and fellowship with these kindhearted people.

I noticed this friendly invite in the bulletin:  "Tea/coffee/squash are served in the lounge after each morning service."  Squash?  I envisioned orange mush in little paper bowls.  Katie clarified:  "No, not squash like pumpkin.  It's a really strong fruit concentrate.  You have to mix it water or it'll hurt your throat.  Katina almost drank it straight by accident last week."

I was curious about this strange and dangerous fruit drink but unfortunately it was gone by the time I made my way to the counter.  Next week, then.

Being touristy (London)

Two weeks ago our student group went to London for the day.  I enjoyed the sightseeing for the most part. But I'd decided not to blog or Facebook about it because all my friends were, and because I do not usually get excited about cities or about being a tourist.

But, I've changed my mind and decided that being touristy for a day in London was worth it.  We went to many places that I don't remember anymore, but these are the ones I do:

National Gallery of Art:  Art galleries are one of the things I do genuinely appreciate about big cities.

Tower of London:  Here are two young girls being all smiley at a place where many sad and gruesome things happened for centuries.  Ironic.

Buckingham Palace:  Claustrophobically crowded, but I liked hearing the band.

Tower Bridge:  I don't know why I liked this, but I did.  It looked like a fairy tale.

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St. Paul's Cathedral:  Yes, I really like big churches and their Evensong services.  We even managed to get seats up by the choir for the service and were specially welcomed in the announcements.  St. Paul's made the beautiful Christ Church in Oxford seem puny (!)

Picture-taking was strictly forbidden on the inside, and it didn't occur to me to break the rules.  But the interior was glorious, as far as man-made things go.

The whole day was chilly and damp.  By the end, the phone booths started to look more and more inviting:

Eventually we rode home in one of these:

I had forgotten that these are exciting until my sister asked me, "Do you get to ride in one of those cool double-decker buses?"  Yes -- and she was even more impressed when I informed her that they have Wi-Fi and restrooms!

Just being in London gave me a sense of the city that I value more than visiting its specific sites.  This week I read The Secret Agent by Joseph Conrad, set in nineteenth-century London.  It kept mentioning the weather -  "grey, dreary, damp, foggy, misty, gloomy, wet, soggy, etc."  Each time Conrad moaned about the weather, I remembered trekking through London streets and laughed and thought, "Yes!  That is what it's really like."  Here's an excerpt:

"The panes streamed with rain, and the short street he looked down into lay wet and empty...It was a very trying day, choked in raw fog to begin with, and now drowned in cold rain.  The flickering, blurred flames of gas-lamps seemed to be dissolving in a watery atmosphere.  And the lofty pretensions of a mankind oppressed by the miserable indignities of the weather appeared as a colossal and hopeless vanity.  'Horrible, horrible!' thought the Assistant Commissioner to himself, with his face near the window-pane.  'We have been having this sort of thing now for ten days; no, a fortnight - a fortnight.'"

Cheery, isn't it?

Really, though, London is better than that.  The parts I saw were beautiful, clean, historic, and impressive.  I wouldn't want to live there, but I enjoyed it for a day.

So -- that is London, through Nebraskan eyes.

on the way to class

Even though Oxford is a city, it has little bits of country mixed into it.  So, even though I live in town, this is what I see every morning when I walk/bike from my house to class:

This meadow has cattle wandering around in it during the summer.  There's a cattle grate on each end of it to keep them from getting out.

And here's the woodsy part that fringes the pasture:

And the friendly horse from the adjoining farm:

And the bridge over the creek on the other side of the pasture:

I wish I had taken these photos, but all credit goes to Austin, a fellow student in the program and a diligent photographer.  My fingers are usually too cold and stiff to stop for picture-taking on days like this.  He kindly said I could share his with you.