(Dublin) 7/22 – 7/24 2011

“He had that curious love of green which in individuals is always the sign of a subtle artistic temperament and in nations is said to denote a laxity if not a decadence of morals.” -Oscar Wilde. I found the previous quote in a book of Wilde’s epigrams that I bought on the street in the Temple Bar district of Dublin. Wilde is an Oxford alumni, I couldn’t resist.

Being in Ireland was like a foreign dose of Southern Hospitality. The Irish were welcoming, jovial, entertaining, accommodating, and best of all, sarcastic. There accents aren’t puffed up with vanity like most British ones, but rather endearing and funny. Even our cab driver from the ferry station was quick to crack jokes, making fun of us ignorant Americans, but also tell us our best bet on where to go and where to get cheap beer/food and see the best sights. He dropped us off with a genuine, “I hope you enjoy your stay here in Ireland.” We almost wanted to tip him, ha.

I felt like death on the trains at 7am Friday, but it wore off by the time we were on the ferry and I felt pretty well the rest of the weekend, with the exception of a sore throat and sore/puffy eye Friday evening. We passed through Wales on the trains and the scenery was mostly green with a lot of farm animals grazing and brick houses that looked antiquated but not shabby. On the ferry we could see the mountains in the distant fog over the North Sea. We stayed at Kinlay house. My first experience with a hostel was a brilliant one. The place was tailored to my age group, and right when we arrived a creepy older man was being pinned against the door by several employees, effectively blocking the entrance and exit. He had been caught stealing a bag, after being spotted the week before stealing a wallet and the workers were quick to detain him at the urgent requests of the victim. He put up a little fight, bickering here and there, until the police came and rested his scummy ass. Quite an arrival for us. My room consisted of a small open space and six bunk beds. The decor of the place held a red theme, but had several cartoonish/comic depictions of drunken, bawdy Irishmen getting drunk with sheep, frogs, various birds, and infants. The Irish don’t discriminate.

The food in Dublin was outrageously expensive, most supper meals were in the 15-20 euro range, and lunch hovering just above 10.

The Temple Bar district was picturesque, somewhat derelict, but had a seasoned feel to it that reminded me of a graffiti laden Camden Town. People, especially edgy, gothic-types, bustled about in droves and the pubs/eateries were always packed. I liked the feel of the place, it is very inviting and there is something there for everyone.

We went to the Brazen Head, the oldest pub in Ireland, which was a cool spot with a similar feel to most pubs in Oxford. However, the bartender made some rude remarks to some in our group, so we left. Without paying.

After everyone else had retired for the evening, either having to wake up early the next day or having not paced themselves well for an Irish pub scene (that cider is a rough potion), me and my friend went to a place called GoGherity’s (spelling?) and we were entertained by some older Irish men that knew enough about the southern states to constantly bring attention to our affinity for the word “yeehaw.” They did not let my friend leave their company without a few kisses on the cheek, fortunately I didn’t suffer the same fate. Upstairs, I Irish jig/square danced with a group of kind old ladies. They could really move for there age, and one could easily tell they were not without practice. The live Irish music was endlessly enjoyable and upbeat. Made want to throw my elbows all over the place.

Saturday we went to the Guinness factory (an interesting side note was that in my email, on a computer in the hostel, every word except “Guinness” was underscored as misspelled, including “Ireland”) that was surprisingly massive and reminiscent of a museum. At the top was a gravity bar with all glass panel windows and a sweeping view of Dublin, all the way to the mountains on the outskirts. We got a complementary pint of Guinness and learned all about the brewing process (I managed to snag a few of the barley grains they use for fermentation) and which parts of one’s tongue taste which aspects of the quick Guinness flavor.

The weather was beautiful the whole time, sunny as could be with a little cloud cover and a slight breeze to ease the sun on our backs and heads. A friend of a friend who was studying in the area said that this weekend was the nicest weather they had had since they arrived in June.

We spent a lot of time hanging out in the common rooms and and one time had a grumpy woman come out and reprimand us for a lengthy period of time because she had work the next morning. I can’t think of many, if any, dignified professions that would warrant staying in a hostel. Curious.

Woke up this morning at 6:45 to vacate the hostel and to bid farewell to Dublin for a long time. I managed some good pictures and quite a few souvenirs, as well as memories and ticket stubs and so forth for scrap booking.

Exceeded my upload limit, go to nicholasfdub.wordpress.com for more pictures

7/21/2011

Breakfast, class, lunch. Business as usual. Read the text for “As You Like It” and am ready to see the performance tonight. Hopefully, this one won’t be as bad as the previous one seen in Oxford (not by myself, who experienced “delays” this past Monday and was unable to make it in favor of more time in Greece) allegedly was. After lunch, I booked tickets with a friend on an impulsive decision to head to Dublin. Maybe “short-notice” would be a better word. I imagine I won’t be back in Europe for sometime, and it would cost me some $1,500 dollars to fly out there from the US. The fact that we found an amazing deal (66 pounds for a train and ferry there and back, and 32 euros for a two-night stay in a decent hostel) definitely aided my decision in the affirmative. I hope Dublin is as beautiful as I’ve heard tell of. It will be awesome to visit the native country of one of my favorite poets, Seamus Heaney.

As for now, off to the Turf, a rather large bar that is like a series of houses and courtyards that connect to a really narrow back alley with only a small sign to indicate its presence. A pretty good “sign” if you ask me, must mean the merit of the place is based solely on clout and reputation, not advertisements, which are generally more misleading. Should be a good time, I’ve only walked through it once to scope it out, but I’ve heard it’s good fun. I like how it is deceptively large and well kept. After the Turf, dinner and then the play. After that, going to a place called Camera with good drink specials that is supposedly more European than the places I have been to so far… whatever that means.

The play tonight was very enjoyable, as were the festivities to follow. Here’s a few pictures. Leaving for Dublin tomorrow. This time I’ll bring my camera and all the accessories.

7/20/2011

Left after lunch to head to Stratford around 1. We visited Shakespeare’s wife, Anne Hathaway’s, estate. It looked a lot like all of the other buildings we have seen in the area related to Shakespeare, except for it was situated on a farm. The gardens were beautiful, as usual. There were smaller-bred ginger pigs, horses, goats, swans, cows, and chickens. Pretty cool, especially considering it was more condensed than I had imagined a normal farm would be. Everything was more accessible. The original house, which dates back to the 15 hundreds, has sense been restored. We were told by a tour guide that (I forget how long ago, but I remember it not being too recent) an old worker had a man who was in love with her and he set fire to part of the building while she was at work in some sort of attempted revenge. As it turns out, the reconstruction made the building a lot larger and the woman ended up marrying this crazy arsonist, only to be divorced some years later.

We went to a fancy restaurant that was tucked away down an alley near the Swan theatre. The food was comparatively cheap and excellent. After dinner we saw Cardenio (Shakespeare’s “lost play” which is pretty much widely excepted not to be Shakespeare’s work in its entirety). The Royal Shakespeare Company, though with different actors for this production, delivered one of the best I have seen so far. The acting never seemed to sag in any discernible aspects and the actors were energetic and excitable (but not too much so) as a whole. Some people, as I learned from the reviews and the subsequent discussions, were offended by the trivial manner in which the directors treated rape in the play. I – perhaps because I wasn’t feeling particularly observant after a huge meal and little sleep the night before – in my typical way, took it as a grain of salt. I don’t think any director of a company as prestigious as the RSC would intentionally make light of such a serious topic (which occurs, arguably, twice in the play). The play is a romance comedy, and I think the humorous components that underscored the entire play were not, at least intentionally, egregious.

We got in from Stratford around midnight, and my neck still hurt from trying to sleep on the bus, even though I brought my pillow.

7/19/2011

Had an amazing breakfast and lunch today. After class Armitage showed us to a sepulchre underneath the library, as musty and creepy as could be. In one of the cells that was barred off, if one were to take a picture, the flash would briefly illuminate a winged statue and it was possibly one of the creepiest things I have ever seen outside of a movie. But the place was interesting and obviously contained a lot of history. Literally.

Say the final HP at last, took a stroll before hand. In British theatres there are about thirty minutes of advertisements before the previews. The audience cheered uproariously when Mrs. Weasley zapped Bellatrix, it was quite amusing. Definitely a good movie, relatively speaking. Makes me want to read the books again.

Went for a run along the river afterwards, saw the boating teams practicing as well as the old and new boat houses from each of the different colleges. There were meadows and old-school stone bridges all around, as well as ducks and swans. Definitely an awesome place for an afternoon/evening jog.

About 8:30, I think UNC had about 20 students in the Buttery, as well as some FSU students. It was packed and difficult to find a seat but a lot of fun. One FSU student approached Armitage, a rather cheeky fellow, and asked why he has such a poignant distaste for FSU students. Armitage answered in his usual sarcastic manner, citing evidence from years past (this is his 44th year doing the program).

Purple Turtle tonight, no karaoke because the DJ “wasn’t well.” We still made a night of it, and coming back in we ran into that same cheeky FSU student just inside the turn-style. Luckily our teacher’s assistant was there chatting with the other TA to “referee” the bout. Somehow we got on the subject of how Armitage was a “male-chauvinist ass hole” and I decided I had to stick up for the good ol’ prof. I managed to really get under this guy’s skin, taking on a sardonic, lawyer-esque tone (he is in the FSU law school, which is ranked some 20 places below UNC’s – we didn’t fail to note that when he made fun of us for “studying our Shakespeare”). He told us how Armitage had rudely disregarded a girl in his program when she asked him where the buffet table was. I told him that a gentlemen over 80 years of age most likely had not heard it, that the question was a rather silly one considering the table is the largest, tallest one at the focal point of the dining hall with all of the food displayed, and that he could not make such an accusatory statement having only met the guy once and that over-applying one incident as indicative to a person’s behavior as a whole is a novice mistake. We also made sure to tell him that someone so much older most likely had archaic viewpoints because they were raised in a different generation entirely.

After a verbal altercation lasting nearly 30 minutes, the guy got in my friend Will’s face, called us all bitches (including the TA’s! Good show!), told Will he had no chance in life, told me that I maybe do, then stormed off in anger reminiscent of a child-like tantrum after the TA’s had finally stopped their laughing at him, which spanned the entire duration of the confrontation. His excuse for not punching Will in the face was that he intended to be a lawyer and that he knew the repercussions well. I told him that his intended career path should help him avoid the repercussions.

No wonder Armitage has made several unflattering remarks about the “lesser breed” of FSU students. Some people can’t take a joke though, school spirit anyone?

Definitely an interesting way to conclude the night. Should be more interesting seeing him in the Buttery or at breakfast/lunch for the remainder of the trip.

Greece (Athens and Mykonos) 7/14 – 7/18 2011

Time to begin the daunting task of explicating my trip to Greece. I feel like this will be an exercise in futility, but I’ll try.

For starters, I left my memory card at Oxford, but my friend let me borrow hers so I’ll post pictures when she uploads them.

My first night, we stayed in Athens at my friend’s aunt’s house. We arrived from the airport near midnight, but his aunt brought out about eight different plates with various types of Greek food – some lasagne looking stuff, sliced tomatoes and vinegar, spinach and feta pastries, etc. We woke up at 5:00AM to catch a bus to our ferry for Mykonos at 7:30.

Our villa in Mykonos was situated way up in a hill overlooking downtown. We had a pool and a lounge, I couldn’t believe the deal we got on it. Taxis and buses weren’t as bad as I had anticipated, so we made our way out a lot, and both days we were there we went to Paradise Beach, which can only be described as MTV real world hot places times 1,000. There were thousands of people and a luau type set up. One side of the beach had thatched umbrellas and chairs while the other side had an overhanging bar where people were dancing on tables in crowds so thick that people were getting knocked off the tables.

We left Paradise Beach once the sun started to go down and went back to our villa to shower and such. At night we visited downtown Mykonos and stayed there until well after the sun came up. The Mediterranean is basically sapphire tones at dawn. Stray dogs (german shepherds??) and cats and little gypsy kids were running around in dense crowds of people, poor things could put a damper on anyone’s party, trying to peddle glow sticks or take your wallet out of your pocket under the guise of a much-needed embrace. Aged anywhere from 5-8, they will be banging on buckets like drums or come up to you and hug your neck like they love you desperately then hook a glow stick to your arm and demand your money. My friend refused because she was out of cash and a tiny kid told her to shove it up her ass in an obscure pseudo-Greek gypsy dialect. Our fluent speaker could barely make out what they were saying.

Probably ate about 20 gyros/pitas during my stay, could get them from all sorts of little mom and pops places in Mykonos for just over 2 euros. Everything is so much fresher too. I’m going to do some research and learn how to make a mean gyro once I get back to the states – the tzatziki sauce is killer.

As I type this I have this indispensible sense of anxiety because I feel like everything I put down in underwhelming and almost an insult to the trip itself. The buildings, the views, the mountains, the water, the people, the beach, the walks, the sun, everything, was amazing. Even my pictures will be of little homage to the splendor of Greece and its islands.

Just before I left for the airport to head back to Heathrow, we visited the Parthenon. I was the maddest I have been in a while because my Pin number that I have used for five years would not work for me to make any withdrawals (even though I paid extra money to fedex a new, uncanceled debit card to Europe) and I phone Wachovia three times, using expensive international minutes, and visited a bank in Athens but to no avail. So there I was, no money for a train to the airport, or the eight extra euros I was supposed to have (ended up sneaking through) in order to take the longer train to the airport, and no means of withdrawing any because the lady wouldn’t dislose my Pin to me over the phone, even after several expensive minutes of verification. I was also pissed because I would like to eat in Oxford. Fortunately, my dad would contact a family member that works at Wachovia and get me a new pin, but only once I had starved my way all the way back to London and then finally to Oxford some 8 hours after Athens. It didn’t help that I couldn’t buy as many souvenirs as I wanted to, and I couldn’t pay Vasili back for the 180 Euros he spent on the Villa and Ferry for me.

But, the Parthenon was probably the only thing that could have cooled me off at that point, and the view of the city from up there stifled my rage, at least temporarily (it didn’t help that it cost 12 euros [that I couldn't withdraw] instead of 6 because I didn’t have my student ID, which got pickpocketed along with my license and SS card and money and functional debit cards). The city is sprawled about in the expansive mountain basins and valleys below and everything is packed so tightly. It goes on until it fades into the horizon, or into the hazy blue of the distant Mediterranean, which, from that far away, mixes subtly with the similar blueish hues of the humid Athens skies. The Parthenon itself, despite the refurbishment efforts (cranes, scaffolding and so forth), was beyond impressive. Aside from the architectural genius and phenomenon of ancient civilizations, I wonder how they managed to lug all of that marble up to the top of that mountain.

We met a lot of Australians, who turned out to be just as outgoing and easy to get along with as the national stereotype would suggest. Learned a lot of interesting slang, most of which is too explicit for this blog or just doesn’t make much sense.

I learned the hard way that in some European countries people throw their toilet paper in the trash can, because the water pressure is not suitable for flushing down clumps of disolvable paper.

On my way to the airport, I met a guy who really inspired me. He was Asian, probably about my age and in very high spirits. At first he seemed utterly clueless, and he asked me how to get to the airport, even though he was already on the train that’s terminal destination was the airport. I struck up a conversation with him to find out that he was travelling alone, all over Europe, and had also had his wallet stolen, right out of his bookbag. Immediately I could relate, but I also found out that his passport was taken too, and he had to miss his flight to Milan and was currently heading to the airport to buy another ticket because they wouldn’t allow him to leave or move his flight without his passport. Empathy ran deep and he and I parted ways with a smile and an awkward handshake. I felt pretty sheepish for being as pissed as I was, still fuming over my debit card.

The quote of the trip was overheard getting off the ferry.

Meat headed guy with a very fake tan: “So she asked me what I do for a living.”

Equally guidoed friend: “What’d you tell her?”

Meat headed guy with a very fake tan: “Situps.”

My apologies for the hastiness of this blog, I’ve gotten little sleep the past few days, but I wanted to get it all out while it was somewhat fresh.

7/13/2011

Visited Shakespeare’s hometown and place of retirement today, Stratford-upon-Avon. We went to several different sites, including the house he was born in, the house he retired to, and the house that he left to his daughter. The entire place is essentially a Shakespeare’s-from-here tourist trap (half of the streets and shops are in his namesake), but it was chill enough.

We took a coach, and on the way there Armitage had the driver take the “scenic route,” as opposed to the highway so that we could see the countryside on our way. Watching the rolling verdure as we passed, I was so enraptured that I forgot to pull out my camera. After our guided tours we had a picnic lunch in the gardens by the archaeological site next to Shakespeare’s daughter’s old house. Apparently her husband was a well-respected physician, and after Shakespeare met him, the portrayal of doctors in Shakespeare’s plays was much more favorable.

The town was very antiquated, some of the buildings, having been only slightly refurbished, still retained their 16th and 17th century integrity. The river Avon was nice as well; there were swans everywhere and ducks and ducklings, though toward the evening the banks became chilly.

After lunch we had a few hours to kill before the production at 7:15, during which time we wandered around the town and stopped in a couple of places. Before the play we grabbed some food and a couple pints. We had intended to go rowing, but somewhere along the way misread the map or headed to the wrong body of water and ended up on the complete opposite side of town.

The Swan theatre had a very contemporary feel, the inside was full or shiny surfaces and neutral colors, a lot of grays and blacks. The outside was mostly glass and brick. We saw the Royal Shakespeare Company’s production of Macbeth. The RSC is one of the world’s most famous (if not the most famous) travelling companies, and the show they put on lived up to this. The acting left some to be wanted, but the directing was spectacular, as well as the set.

Though some of the witch scenes were cut out, the decision to use children – the lights were dimmed as they were lowered slowly onto the stage from the roof, hanging for a few minutes as if from the gallows (but really from a harness) – as the weird sisters was eerie and ethereal. While the audience was still recoiling from the creaking, slow-swinging, morbid display, the children began to twitch, kicking their legs, and breaking out into a shrill, hauntingly harmonious chant.

During the banquet scene, Banquo’s ghost comes onto the stage to sit in Macbeth’s chair, the tangible personification of Macbeth’s guilt-ridden hallucinations, and just before the intermission, Banquo stabs Macbeth, who throws blood all over the stage in a gurgling fit. This deviation from the text, I would imagine, was done to emphasize the tragic state of Macbeth’s delusions. Armitage remarked, “I haven’t had a drop of alcohol all day, and I was wondering, what production am I seeing!?” Then jokingly, as if to clear suspicion, “There are many days that I do not have a single drop of alcohol.”

The production redeemed itself when after the intermission they re-enacted the scene without Banquo’s ghost, to better illustrate the perspective of the guests who would have been unable to see the ghost that was haunting Macbeth.

Slept pretty much the entire way back. This morning I borrowed my buddy’s razor to do the finishing touches on my original fu-man-chu/modified neckbeard that I’m starting to take a lot of pride in, and he said, upon handing me the razor and shaving cream, “For the love of God, please don’t shave anything but your face with this.” Fitting last words…

Found a pretty…hilarious article online. http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-14135523   I like this guy. He’s well aware of the implications. Where do you draw the line?

Catching a bus at 12:30 to Heathrow. I leave for Athens at 4:30. Should be in Greece about 10:00PM their time. Not taking my computer – will blog when I return on the 18th.

yeah

a copy of shakespeare’s first folio

wow

little harry potter novelty shop

swan theatre

shakespeare’s royal notary ring

sweet london panorama, made of thick paper

cut-section small scale model of the globe

7/12/2011

Breakfast was a buffet today. There were huge hashbrown triangles, scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, sausage, cereals, oats, croissants, bagels, etc. Pigged out a bit. In class we read every single one of Shakespeare’s sonnets, taking turns through all 154. We were outside in the gardens though with insects and yellow-jackets landing on us and so forth to distract us. That helped. Lunch was spectacular once again. Vegetable soup, course 1. Course 2: some rice and beef with a sultry, salmon-colored Asian sauce, peppers, baby corn, and beans. Desert: some tiramisu type gig, chocolate cheesecake on top of a graham cracker and strawberries with a raspberry frosting on the side. I’m normally not a fan of such, but this wasn’t as rich as I had expected and it was subtly delicious.

After I let me food settle, we visited Christ’s Church, the place where the dining hall in Hogwarts was filmed. The place was massive, with ramparts and spires that seemed to never end. There were vast stretches of grass within the walls and the inside was as exquisitely elaborate as anything I could’ve imagined. Even the notches and corners and the columns had intricately carved, smooth figures just jutting out for no practical purpose whatsoever, strictly aesthetic. The stone working was impeccable, as was the furniture, the upholstery, the lights. Everything wooden had a polished, lacquered look to it and the cathedral smelled like flowers. We couldn’t figure out how – there were only a few sets with flowers in them, not enough to make the entire place smell like spring.

Afterwards we went to Blackwell’s, the world-famous book store with five stories and a basement that has three miles of shelving. It also has an art and poster store connected to it, and an eatery on the first floor (different from the ground floor, essentially the second floor, that’s just how they do it over here). On the way I picked up some cool trinkets from an ethnic lady pushing around a cart/display.

Once at Blackwell’s I picked up some Oscar Wilde short stories and indulged myself for a bit. I’ll have to go back; there was too much to take in at once, and that says a lot for a book store after all of the museums, cathedrals and theatres I’ve been to lately.

The weather has been a lot more pleasant than my first impression had me believe. Most of the time the temp stays in the 60s and 70s with a good breeze and when the sun is out it provides a nice contrast: warm sun on your back and the occasional wind to take the edge off. Good running conditions, makes it a little harder to work up a sweat.

As for later, reading Macbeth for the production tomorrow in Stratford-upon-Avon (where old Bill Shakespeare himself was born and bred). I want to say its the Royal Shakespeare Company (arguably the most famous classical theatre troupe in the world) that’s putting it on, too. I’ll do some running as well, maybe some other exercising, we’ll see how I feel. I’m still undecided on going out.

Christ’s church

outside the grounds

cool looking “grotesque”

recognize this from any big films?

the grounds

if you come to the bear with a tie they haven’t seen, they clip it and put it up on display. old tradition apparently

the covered market

7/11/2011

Had my first in-house St. Edmund hall breakfast experience today. We are seated in a large dining hall where the students convene at 8:30 to be served either a “hot breakfast” or a “continental breakfast.” I went with the formal, a plate of eggs, beans, bacon and sausage as well as a large rack of toast for everyone. There is juice provided for us, milk, and water if we ask. The waitresses are friendly and helpful, not begrudged like most at restaurants (who don’t get tipped, thus have less incentive).

In class we toured the library, which dates back to either the 13th or 14th century. It is beautiful and archaic, and smells like one might imagine an old, stone library to: like aged wooden shelves and yellowed pages, somewhat pungent and musty. The smell itself made me feel smarter. There were law records from years back and books of all sorts.

For lunch we were treated to a three course meal. The first course, a carrot and orange based soup with bread for dipping. Second course: Barbecue chicken, tender white and juicy on the inside, peeled away in succulent strands just under my fork and the barbecue sauce had a little kick to it. Potato cubes that were literally as soft as mashed potatoes, with a hollandaise sort of sauce over them and then some steamed zucchini. Bread to wipe it clean. Third course: key lime pie with a sugar cookie. I didn’t even need to eat supper.

After lunch we went to The Eagle and Child, finally. It seemed small as first, almost cramped, but once you pass the bar the place continues going back for a long stretch. Further back the rooms become sun rooms with glass panels for roofing. We had a pint there then went to Royal Oak, another bar just up to street a ways, hung out for a bit and decided we would come back for trivia. We made our way back to the Buttery, where I saw, from the window, Armitage wrenching away at a wine bottle in his bedroom by his window sill. He seemed to be taking great pains so I walked outside and called to him, “Professor, a little early to be taking to the vino?” “You’d do the same if you’d had the day I’ve had,” said he. Oh the hard life of living in St. Edmund, no reviews to grade that night, no obligations I can imagine, other than managing to pry that damned cork from the bottle neck.

From the Buttery we returned to Royal Oak and got blasted in trivia. We came in second-to-last place, trailing the leading team by some 12 points. Had we not missed one of the questions in the bonus section, we would have been in the top five I’d imagine. Obscure British politics and pop-culture icons wasn’t our “cup of tea.”

Afterwards we went to a place called The Crown, which was awesome, sort of like the Bob’s of Oxford: you enter from the street into a courtyard type setting surrounded by the backs of buildings; there’s a lot of room to move around in the outdoor space, almost like a large veranda. Really chill, a good place to socialize.

Lastly we went to the Purple Turtle where I couldn’t get in because I don’t quite look 18 with a full fumanchu neckbeard. The doorman was very polite, however. So I obligingly power walked back to St Edmund (not too far) and grabbed my passport that I don’t like taking out with me (the street value on those things is pretty high) but there was no cover and on my way back I ran into some other friends from the program who were headed in. They decided to join me and we all headed there and everything went smoothly (the doorman, recognizing me, jokingly said they don’t accept American passports). After a while we walked back and everyone decided it’d be a good idea to order the greasiest things on the menu from this parked street vendor. We were just shooting the breeze on the side walk when here comes our TA meandering down the road. He joined in our conversation and all was well. I slept like a rock last night.

the lib

the crown at sundown

7/10/2011

I’ve been doing a little more research on what I blogged for yesterday’s post, another argument in favor of having socio-economic reforms for functional merit and diversity is this:

A liberal education should strive to ”prepare the university community and the state for full participation in the global society of the 21st century… It seeks to foster the understanding of and respect for cultural differences necessary for an enlightened and educated citizenry.” Which makes sense, there is a lot that people coming from different backgrounds can learn from each other. I would say the most important thing to take away from such mixed relationships is empathy. If one can understand and genuinely feel for the situation of another, especially very different ones in terms of social stratification, it can help foster a deep-seeded respect for people from vastly different walks of life.

As I read further, I came across the concept of “confirmative action,” the article’s namesake, which read as follows: “To produce the “enlightened” citizenry anticipated by its mission statement and the “powerful force” for development and discovery that a mix of students helps create, Georgia needs to move beyond the marginal use of affirmative action and make what I call “confirmative action” central to its entire admissions process. By framing diversity as simply about preferences for persons of color, the current controversy over affirmative action fails to examine how the conventional “merit-based” criteria that we assume to be fair systematically exclude poor and working-class people of every racial group, including whites. Such criteria also fail to predict the most important elements of merit in a multiracial democracy: who will contribute to the society as a whole after graduation.” Interesting stuff.

“By contrast, the process of confirmative action ties diversity to the admissions criteria for all students, whatever their race, gender, or ethnic background — including people of color, working-class whites, and even children of privilege. Linking diversity to merit, it confirms the public character and democratic missions of higher-education institutions. Diversity becomes relevant not only to the college’s admissions process but also to its students’ educational experiences and to what its graduates contribute as leaders in our democratic polity.” The only thing is here, though it sounds awesome in theory, is exactly how do they implement this without meeting an arbitrary quota? And how do you tie diversity into an admissions process while putting a blind to the very demographics that make one different and constitute a diverse student body? My best guess is by aiming for socio-economic diversity. I think this could appease most sides of the argument, since such criteria would generally benefit the minorities.

I do agree with the notion that diversity, especially of a socio-economic nature, is important for people to learn about the struggles of different classes in order to become better-suited to contribute to a melting pot society. I also think cultural diversity in academia is beneficial, especially for people who have never had the luxury of traveling with their parents when they were younger, i.e. your less-wealthy students. So in a way, diversity benefits the very people that such measures intend to help, what’s not to like about that?

Another interesting tidbit: “Research by Howard Gardner, a professor of cognition and education at Harvard University, shows that the ability to work collaboratively and to learn from diverse perspectives constitutes a kind of emotional intelligence that can also be learned and that is highly correlated with career advancement and leadership, but is not measured by numerical scores on aptitude tests. The current timed paper-and-pencil tests do not tell us how someone will function in situations where a range of intelligences — including personality factors such as drive, motivation, creativity, and problem-solving skills — are relevant.”

“High test scores that count so much in admissions decisions do not measure attributes of leadership. To the contrary, the Harvard study reported that low SAT scores and a blue-collar background were the two factors that correlated with financial and career satisfaction as well as community leadership.”  !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

For my conservative haters out there: “The Texas Legislature adopted the [elimination of aptitude test priority in admissions because it tended to favor not only certain racial, but class distinctions] plan with the support of several conservative white lawmakers. They realized that changes were necessary to give their own constituents access to a valuable public resource — taxpayer-subsidized higher education. Gov. George W. Bush signed the plan, which has now been in effect for almost three years. The result? The grade-point average of freshman students admitted under the 10-percent plan is higher, for every racial group, than it was when SAT scores dominated admissions criteria.”

And lastly, this coming from a law professor at Harvard, “If we can move away from the contested terrain of affirmative action, on the margin of the admissions process, we can begin to rethink how colleges and universities admit and educate everyone.” I gotta say, I like her ideas about “confirmative” action.

I’ll stop now. I find this article very compelling, there’s a bit that I disagree with, but there’s definitely some good stuff. Here’s a link to the article. http://www.minerscanary.org/mainart/highered.shtml

Last night, I had resigned myself to read and fall asleep after eating a huge meal that completely changed my thoughts on going out, when all of a sudden I saw Armitage, along with most of the kids from the program, in the Buttery having a few drinks.

It wasn’t long before I had changed my mind. I ended up getting a pitcher of home-made Pimm’s (a Firefly-esque drink) with fruit floating around in it and mint leaves garnishing the top. I managed to convince Armitage to let me pour a little bit in his personally engraved tankard that he has kept exclusively for him at the Buttery. I was very impressed with the concoction, I could actually taste the cucumbers and it wasn’t exceedingly rich.

Our group went to a place called King’s Arms, instead of the Eagle and Child (more colloquially known as “The Bird and the Babe”) because we had a late start and the former was open a bit later. The college scene we found there was a refreshing welcome, we even ran into some people from NCSU.

[Which reminds me, I forgot to tell of my encounter with a man wearing a Duke shirt on the train to Oxford. He was attempting to drag his luggage through the gates that open when you present your ticket. The doors are unforgiving (to keep people from tailgating) and shut rather quickly. His bag got caught on the other side and he couldn't lift it because it was snagged. I went up to him and said, I'm from UNC, I normally don't help your kind. He smiled, thanked me, and then said, "Go Heels!" I hope the bitter taste of those words still linger on his Dukey lips.]

Once the place closed down at twelve, the only other places open were at least 7 pounds to get in and had lines thronging down the street. We decided to come back to St. Edmunds and we hung out in my room and listened to music, talked about our favorite musicians, writers, politicians, etc. It was nice.

This morning went to church at a place called St. Mary’s, not sure exactly what denomination, but it was still pleasant. Very traditional and authentic and the inside was elaborate, as one might expect from an old-school church in a place like Oxford. The organ and the singing/chanting was like something out of a Dracula movie, eerily shrill, but fitting (much unlike my Baptist experiences, either way I prefer the smaller group discussion and discipleship myself). The message was a let down; it was very brief, less than twenty minutes, and more like a lecture on global politics, about how everything is unsustainable now because people are trying to live like Americans. What was worse is that he concluded with, “and next Sunday, I’m going to talk about how this pertains to our religion.” Ahh, the ol’ cliff-hanger. Too bad I’ll be in Greece next weekend.

After church, we went and ate lunch, and I’ve been hanging out ever since, reading, blogging, working on articles, and the like. Just soaking up the place. I plan on doing some reading in the courtyard, maybe going to dinner, definitely scouting out the punting situation, going on a walk, and hearing about how my friend’s travels to Edinborough went (they just got in today).

“get thee to the Buttery!” this place is literally at the bottom of the stairs leading up to my room

peeps from the program

home-made Pimm’s

scottish egg, basically a hard boiled egg peeled and ensconced in stuffing. too bad i have a conditioned taste aversion to those things after dyeing too many one easter during my more formative years. it looked delicious, at least from the outside

king’s arms downstairs, there was this kid that looked just like my previous roommate from this program. he can be seen wearing a cub’s shirt. a few girls pretended to pose while i snapped a shot of him to show my friend

he told us he would like to “get this to go, please”

the spiral staircase leading to the pulpit was crazy

oldest coffee house in england

after church lunch

7/9/2011

I have been slack on my bloggery. Oxford has usurped my attention for a little while.

Yesterday evening our group went on a 3 hour tour courtesy of Armitage. He had a lot to say about his alma mater and the surrounding area, as he does with most things – but since he sounds like David Attenborough it makes whatever he says enjoyable. His deadpan delivery of random hilarious anecdotes and sarcastic quips helps a bit, too.  Delivery does take over half the battle from substance I suppose.

As we “sauntered” about the town, he told us all about the architecture and historical significance of each of the buildings. The architecture here ranges from neo-classical with its emphasis on symmetry to Victorian with some gothic elements. There’s even a walkway/bridge that mimics one in Italy. He showed us a few of the local “watering holes,” places to grab drinks and hang out. There are many here that have been around for ages, and one in particular I want to visit is “The Eagle and child” where Tolkien and CS Lewis used to meet weekly for drinks and to discuss otherworldly things. There are several museums here I intend to visit, one currently has an exhibit for Hercules and Alexander the Great.

There are also world famous book stores, rivers to go “punting” in (or paddle boating, which I am especially looking forward to), covered markets, all sorts of eateries (including the self-proclaimed first place to ever sell coffee, conveniently located right on Queen’s Ln and High St on the back side of one of the exterior walls of St. Edmund’s hall on the other side from where we stay), botanical gardens, and all sorts of souvenir shops. Can’t forget the inevitable McDonald’s, KFC, and Burger King.

A cool sight we saw was the site where three martyrs of distinction were burned at the stake in the middle of Broad street on Mary Tudor’s orders. There is actually a cross in the middle of the street at the exact spot and then a commemorative plaque on the side of a building off to the side.

Probably my favorite part of the trip thus far is “The Buttery,” a tiny pub that is literally built into St. Edmund hall, right at the base of the staircase that leads to my bedroom. It’s just a small wooden parlor, and is only open until 10:30 (when the bartender grudgingly rings his bell that tells everyone to shove off), but I can already tell it will be the place where everyone meets to coordinate plans for the night since we all live in our own rooms now and can’t make plans as easily in person. Positively the best rendezvous spot I could imagine. Where else has a built-in pub right next to the courtyard of their 13th century quarters?

Today I basically became a recluse, worked on an article for several hours, did some callisthenics intermittently, went for a run, and ate at Queen’s Lane, it was pretty good stuff, I must say but nothing particularly stood out other than the icecream. They fancy themselves artists of Swiss icecream spheres.

There is a place to go punting very nearby, pretty stoked on that. Took an evening walk with a few people and ended up going into the botanical garden that is in honor of the people who invented penicillin! It was awesome, never have I seen such geometrically exquisite hedges.

the gem of all my pictures on this trip

is it that serious?

the buttery at a glance

Food for thought: There have been countless studies that prove that establishment racism exists. So to the extent that affirmative action can be strictly socio-economic, based simply on how impoverished one is growing up and the limited opportunities one may have had, whether white or black or whatever, how do we account for the overwhelming amount of studies showing that when two identical resumes are sent in for the same position, one with a black name, one with a white name, that the odds in favor of the whiter-sounding name receiving the first call for the job are staggering. Is the onus on the black community to change these perceptions? Many people act a certain way because they are predisposed by their upbringing to think that society owes them something or looks down upon them, and that places the chip on the embittered shoulder. Can they be blamed? Its easy to see that racism and classism still exist and are self perpetuating – one group has been conditioned to believe that another group is prejudiced toward them, so that inclines the self-perceived (or correctly perceived) disenfranchised group to act disdainfully toward the other group, even if certain members of either group are the least racist people you could ever know. The availability heuristic of unsavory racist incidents would support this (things such as slavery, the civil rights movement, Rodney King, come to mind much more easily than non-racist events, no?). In that vein, I think it is unfair for institutions to hold all black people accountable for the unflattering way in which the hip-hop community and the inner-city mentality represent blacks as a whole. Not all black people buy into that, and someone named Jamarcus could be way more ambitious, cultured, and articulate than someone named, say, Philip. Then again, someone named Jamarcus hypothetically could have been brought up in a mansion in a family that is well-traveled and sophisticated who made him take courses on etiquette, piano lessons, and sent him to a prestigious private boarding school in his formative years, while Philip lived in a lower middle class neighborhood somewhere in rural NC, went to a bare-minimum public school, and never had the financial means to leave the country and see the world.

On another note, is it racist to assume someone with all the necessary credentials for a mathematics intensive executive position  named Bubbla Cletis McIntyre  from West Virginia or Alabama to be less-suitable than someone named Okinishi Yamasuki with comparable credentials? Furthermore, is it racist to assume that Asians are normally harder working than Americans?

Is it OK to profile people who look to be of middle eastern descent, that could hypothetically be 2nd or 3rd generation individuals who avidly practice Catholicism and attend mass every week and have a massive American flag billowing in their yard, on air planes because nearly 100% of attempted air-line terrorist attacks have been attributed to people from their native land? Normally, more “formative” looking males are suspect to random searches as well, is that profiling? A petite Japanese women could just as easily have the soles of her shoes lined with c4.

Is it unfair to a white male to lose his enrolment spot in the University he has dreamed about since he was a child to an equally qualified black female simply because diversity is more progressive and there are quotas to be met or because the young lady happened to be from a less prosperous family? Its not the white student’s fault that he was born into a more favorable situation, is he being punished for something beyond his control? But then again, does it speak more to the merit of the black girl that she was able to achieve similar qualifications given fewer financial or instructional opportunities? To what degree can socio-economic factors be accurately assessed and fairly applied? All situations are unique and it would be impossible to micromanage everyone’s affairs and fairly determine what opportunities people may have had. People can have benefactors, or the luxury of a passionate and brilliant teacher who takes certain students under their wing and offers guidance.

Politics can never have one side, nor two. I wish it were possible to see the whole gamut.

Sorry I got off topic, these issues have just been weighing heavily on my mind lately for some reason. I guess being abroad sort of makes me realize more poignantly how fortunate I am, and I often wonder with chagrin if I could have ever made it to where I am now coming from an equally loving  family in a more stringent situation that just didn’t have the means to help me out or provide a similar upbringing.