On Oxford (part xiii: Conclusion)

It took a while, but I have finally recovered from the writing load of my term at Oxford. I loved it, and it was incredibly rewarding, but it got to the point where I had done so much writing that the thought of doing any more, even replying to e-mails, seemed like a strain. Fortunately, such states of fatigue rarely last too long for me. I have returned to a state where I want to do nothing but write and now have difficulty finding time for it. Such is life I suppose.

The last few weeks at Oxford seemed fairly uneventful. That is not to say that there was nothing happening--everyone was doing a lot, but it was all bookwork: researching and writing the last papers. Much of my time was spent in libraries during the day, then I would spend the evening working. There was a rhythm to it, and each day had its own interests, but they all seemed to run together after a while. The last week was probably the toughest I have ever had academically. I have never researched and thought about a topic as in depth as I did for my long essay on Samuel Beckett's Endgame. I was one of the last people in our house to finish, but fortunately, it was not because I had been lazy, but because I had filled my time with as much work as possible. I loved the topic, I believed in my argument, and I wanted to do them justice. I think I did.

Once that final paper was turned in, there was such an amazing flood of renewed life in our house. We could finally all unwind and spend time together without feeling like we were neglecting homework. It was great. I finally made it back to the Ashmolean Museum and checked out their fine art--some very impressive pieces. I started playing outside more: frisbee, soccer, badminton, and even some wrestling. It was terrific. I wish that state could have gone on longer.

For some people it did, of course. At our debriefing on the last Friday, the head of the program told us about the eruption of the Eyjafjallojokul volcano which had closed British airspace. Most of the people in the program were to be stranded in Oxford for the next week. By sheer providence, my friend Eric and I had made plans to travel to the continent by bus and in continent by train, so we did not have to cancel our plans.

Saying goodbye was strange. Strange and difficult. I still don't know that I have processed it.

After a final meal of fish and chips in London, Eric and I boarded our overnight bus and set out for Paris. What we did not realize was that our bus was not going through the tunnel to France, but was stopping in Dover to board a ferry and cross the channel. Exciting as this was, it meant we had to get off the bus where we had been sleeping (or trying to). This made for a rough night, but waking up in Paris was worth it.

What one must understand about Eric and I is that we are both pretty laid back fellows. What one must understand about our trip is that we had done next to no planning. We knew where we were staying every night and how we were getting from city to city, but that was it. Thus, most of our sightseeing ended up being whims of the moment. This was how, on our first day, we stumbled upon the Bastille monument, Notre Dame, the Louvre (including the Mona Lisa), and the Eiffel Tower. I had been sceptical of the Eiffel Tower for a long time, but we saw it at sunset, and it certainly lived up to the hype.

The next morning, we walked into the lobby of the hostel and saw several of our friends from Oxford. We had originally been planning to share most of our travels with them, but they had bought plane tickets and could not arrange all the changes in transportation, and so this was our only day with them. We tried to make the most of it, visiting the Moulin Rouge and Sacre Cours before buying baguettes and cheese and having a picnic in Luxembourg Park, where we learned that you are not allowed to sit on the grass. After lunch, we saw the Pompadour, a very odd building, and visited lots of famous dead people in Perre Lachaise. After this, Eric and I found our way to the train station to say goodbye to France and begin our overnight journey to Rome.

Waking up in Rome was about as mystical as waking up in Paris. We checked into our hostel and then began to explore the ancient part of the city. It was surreal to come over the crest of a hill and see the Coliseum waiting for us. The structure was just incredible. From there we went to the palatine hill and the Roman forum. The ruins were just incredible. There is something about ruins that just captivates me. That is a big part of why I like capricci paintings so much.

Our next day was spent at the Vatican, where we got to stand in St. Peter's square and here the Pope himself address the people assembled there. We didn't understand the Italian, but it was cool to see His Holiness. We left early to stay ahead of the crowd and visited the Musei Vaticani, one of the largest museums in the world, and also home to The School of Athens and The Sistine Chapel. It was incredible. We spent hours there and we only saw one wing of the museum. On our way back to see St. Peter's we stopped at a gelateria a friend had recommended called The Old Bridge and

Oh

my

goodness

There is no way to put into words how good gelato is. It is everything ice cream ought to be. After that we visited the basilica. If Notre Dame was the most imposing church I had ever seen and Sacre Coeur the most elegant, then St. Peter's is by far the most magnificent. There was more gold and marble than I could begin to comprehend. It was overwhelming. I must have taken more than 200 pictures just of that building. The Vatican had exhausted most of our day, but we had time to find a nice cafe and buy paninis...panini's conveniently named after American movie stars. Eric got a Sylvester Stallone, and I got a George Clooney.

Our next day started with a quest to visit a gallery which happened to be closed: huge bummer. However, this gave us time to visit the zoo: a very fun little experience. And while we were there, we saw signs for the National Museum of Modern Art. That museum was easily the best surprise of our trip for me. We spent several hours there, and I now have a list of dozens of artists and works of art to research. They also had an incredibly fascinating exhibit on 1970's avant garde feminist art--mostly photography, but also featuring some videos, drawings, paintings and sculptures. After this, we visited the Piazza del Poppolo, in the vicinity of which we found a charming Italian restaurant where we decided to splurge on a hearty meal. The bruschetta was absolutely incredible, my pesto was remarkably creamy, and the espresso surpassed even the French coffee. Such a meal.

Our next and final day in Rome was dedicated mostly to plazas and fountains. They are all over the city, and most of them were designed by Bernini. The man practically built Rome. In the midst of all of these, we found the Pantheon. It is unfathomable to think that the Pantheon has been standing for almost two millennia, and while it is smaller in scale than St. Peter's, it's furnishings have just as much splendour. While enjoying a fine lunch in The Miscellenea, we made plans to work our way back toward the Vatican (and by way of the Vatican, to The Old Bridge). On our way, we got to walk along the Tiber until we reached the Castel de Sant Angelo, a building which has served as a mausoleum, as a papal palace, and as a medieval fortification. After this, we got our last gelato and realized that we still had an hour before we needed to head toward the airport, so we filled this time by tracking down the Church of St. Peter in Chains featuring, as its namesake, the supposed chains which held Peter in the story from Acts 12. However, the church is more famous for housing Michelangelo's Moses. Seeing both this sculpture and La Pieta while in Rome were fantastic honours.

It was all downhill from there. We caught our flight to London Heathrow, spent the night in the airport, then caught our eight hour flight to Chicago.

Home.

I still feel somewhat like a visitor and not like someone who lives here, but I am home.