Re-Fresh

“I envy you going to Oxford. It is the most flower-like time of one's life. One sees the shadow of things in silver mirrors.” -Oscar Wilde

Yes, it’s true…in the tradition of all bad high school essays, I’ve started an entry off with a quote. At this point I’m sure you’re wondering why I would do such an awful thing so early in the year. Have I just gotten lazy, or have I completely lost all shreds of writing ability amassed over the summer? Maybe I can only perform in English when there’s no competition, say, when everyone’s speaking French. Maybe, ever since my author paper of 10th grade, I have developed a blind spot the exact size of one Irish/Victorian/homosexual author/poet/playwright/aesthete. To which I would reply: yes, probably…but if Oxford is going to lump me in with all the freshmen, I might as well act like one.

While I never anticipated (or desired) going through orientation again, it’s not unfitting. For all intents and purposes, I am a freshman, or Fresher, again: I walk around with a heavily creased and marked map; I join every group, club, and event email list that comes my way; my cheeks hurt at the end of the night from smiling and my feet are sore from standing around at mixers and socials in high heels (the heels are necessary…the noise level requires that I be on a similar altitude to my British cohorts). And I think I’m handling it more gracefully than I did the first time around – or maybe it’s just Oxford. Anyway, we haven’t played any icebreaker games yet.

It’s probably a good thing I’ve got some experience at being a Fresher, because not only do I have the normal gamut of freshman newcomer anxieties, but I’ve also got a host of issues stemming from the fact that (no matter how familiar I think I am with British culture) I’m very definitely a foreigner. When I meet with the principal and my tutor for a one-on-one interview, it’s not just a matter of introducing myself to the people in charge…these people are the heads of a schooling system I know very little about. And when I stroll into town to tour the library or hunt down hallways for the dining hall, I not only have to remain un-lost, but I also have to keep in mind that this is England, where we drive and bike and walk on the opposite side of the road.

But what’s it all like? That’s the real question, I know. All of us newcomers are trying to figure that out. There are a lot of high expectations and preconceived notions, but Oxford has to be more than scholars in academic dress, bicycles, and punts…right? (Although there’s no denying those elements exist – today I saw a man walking briskly down the street while engrossed in an old, leathery book). I wish I could say more about the academics here, but it’s going to have to wait. The tutorial system is still a bit of a mystery to me, and I don’t even know which classes I’ll be taking yet.

I can give you an idea about the people, though. Almost everyone I’ve encountered has been friendly and helpful almost to the point of irritation – although they leave you alone when you’re in your room. I’ve left my door open for several hours and no one has stopped by. The students – the Freshers, at least – are both more similar and more diverse than I would have predicted. The students aren't entirely rich snobs, for instance. They come from all over, from the UK and the USA, from Korea and Turkey, from Sweden and South Africa. A lot of them have funny names: Jem, Rory, and Tobias for the guys, and Verity, Nora, Dascha, and Genevieve for the girls.

(I'm remembering names by, every time I come back to my room, taking out a large sheet of paper and writing down a list of everyone I've met. It appears to be working, but it also looks like I'm a stalker with a hit list.)

They dress differently, too, or at least men do: lots of slim pants, skinny ties, and cardigans, and at the fancy dress ball I saw a tartan kilt and a purple velvet waistcoat/gold cravat talking to each other. They’re all intelligent, driven, and intellectual, as expected: also at the fancy dress ball, I had a civilized argument (which I won) with two economists about economics in the States. Granted, they were both less than sober – one of them called himself my “bitch” – but you don’t get many political debates over alcohol at U of R. Or any. So that was cool.

I won’t deny it, despite having to relive the freshman experience, I’m pretty thrilled to be here. And even discounting all the rain we’ve been having, Oscar just can’t be wrong – I don’t see how a person could avoid blooming in such an environment. I’ll let you know when I see shadows in silver mirrors.