In the Home Stretch...

In four days I shall have completed the first half of my year at Oxford. 40,000 words and a million books later (ok maybe more like 50 books), I am... half way done. Most of the people in my program are celebrating being completely done. But I get to come back after 3 weeks of traveling and do it all again. Oy. Don't get me wrong, I love this place. It's just... well, it's Oxford. It's a lot of work.

Speaking of work, the 'homestretch' for me always means the hardest little bit at the end which is 7 million times harder because I just don't want to do anything anymore. When I was in high school, it was basically the only time my parents had to encourage me in my school work. "You can do it, Maria! You're in the homestretch,"my wonderful Daddy would always say. I'll be honest, I love school. I love learning, I don't mind working, and writing essays aren't that big of a deal (especially now that I've discovered I can write a 6 page paper in two hours!). But when it comes to the end of a term, or, even worse, the end of a year, I just want to be done. I'd so much rather do more work at the beginning. Why do they always make you do the big things at the end? Why do I struggle with it so much?

We have our "Long Paper" due this week. Why they chose to call it the LONG paper and make it sound even more daunting, I don't know, but right now, it's kicking my butt. It's only 4,000 words on a topic I chose and, therefore, like, but I am simply unmotivated. I'm ready to lounge by a fireplace (there's one down the road in a quaint little hotel that you can go to for tea) and read for fun. Or go around singing Christmas Carols (I heard some being sung when I was in the library yesterday) or buying things to send back home for my beautiful family! Thankfully, I'm not alone in this. There are about 50 other students experiencing basically the same thing as I am. There's nothing like a good ol' common enemy to bring friends even closer together. My dear friend Felicia and I have created a battle plan which includes an all-day work day on Monday and... tea. We will succeed. And we're gonna have a great time doing it. That's all there is to it.

On another note (he he), my a cappella group finished up for the term with our Christmas concert this past week. We sang a couple songs, attempted some dance moves, scantily decorated a theatre with Christmas decorations, and had a grand time. It was the first time I performed (as a beatboxer) in front of anyone I knew, and I was surprisingly nervous. I'm a ham, I love performing, but I was basically throwing up from nervousness the entire time...or at least, I was in my head. But it was so good to have my friends there. It meant the world to me. For those of you who are wishing you could've been there, no worries. You probably live in New York and/or are currently residing in New England. So that you don't feel left out, I'm attaching a video of part of our Christmas concert here! Merry Christmas! :)

Oh, and I nearly forgot. I went swing dancing this week! I had nearly forgotten how much I love it. I danced a bunch of lindy that I didn't know I knew how to do, a little charleston (with a guy who afterwards told me he didn't know how to dance charleston. Ha! Yah right, he was amazing.) and a bit of blues thanks to a lovely new friend named Al who has hair longer than I do and who dances like a god. It was wonderful to be dancing again. I miss my swing dancing friends, both in Rochester and in Boston. But now I get to say I have swing dancing friends in Oxford. Yah... I think that's kinda cool.

Well, I will have more stories after this week, but right now I have to go help prepare our last family dinner. Yikes. That's a sad thought for me. I'm going to miss the family I've made here so very much. I've been blessed more than I ever could have imagined. And now I'm going to go spend the evening enjoying their beautiful company (and their delicious cooking!) Ah, so blessed!!

Oooohhhh! So THIS is Oxford....

1st week in Oxford: I'm studying at the school of my dreams. Life is unrealistically perfect. I want to see everything and do everything and explore forever!

3rd week in Oxford: Man, it feels like I've been exploring forever. Gosh I miss my Gordon friends. I'd really like to make some friends here...and I miss my momma.

5th week in Oxford: When is real school going to start already? I kinda like these people that I'm stuck here with, but I'm still going to travel alone during break and go to Ireland.

7th week in Oxford: This Oxford thing is a piece of cake! I love my tutorials. I love my tutors! I don't mind writing a 7 page paper every week and writing a creative writing piece every other week. I could spend all day in the libraries they're so wonderful! And I'm in love with my new friends here. I want to know them better!

9th week in Oxford: Wow, I'm working pretty hard here. It's tricky to balance a cappella group stuff with social activities (I adore these friends and want to do nothing but spend every minute with them) with all the papers I'm writing. I'm feeling a little tired, but the prof giving the Wordsworth lecture wears cool socks, so I'm gonna be ok...

11th week in Oxford: OH MY GOSH!!!! I'M GOING TO DIE! I HAVEN'T SLEPT IN TWO DAYS BECAUSE I HAD FOUR PAPERS DUE ON THE SAME DAY!! I BARELY HAVE TIME TO EAT ANYMORE! HOW ON EARTH AM I GOING TO DO THIS FOR THREE MORE WEEKS?!?!?!

So THIS is Oxford....

Ok, I exaggerate a little, but only on the "I'm going to die" part. Everything else is pretty accurate. Oxford is Oxford for a reason—now I understand that reason. Writing 7 pages every week might not seem like that much, it didn't to me at first, but when it never ends... as soon as you finish one paper... *BAM* the next one's in your face. A new novel needs reading, 12 more long, often tedious secondary sources to skim through. Come up with another brilliant argument for a topic you've only just been introduced to 2 days prior. Oh, and on top of that, go to lectures, come to tea, rehearse for the gigs, plan for the party, cook for the family, foster relationships, and don't forget to sleep. When does it end?

The answer is December 7th. That's when the program ends and then everybody goes back home (except for the select few of us who will be here for the last half of the year, too). I should be excited for that date. I'll get a lovely 3 week break to use however I choose. No essays. No lectures. No tutorials. No cooking for anybody but myself. I think it's called a vacation, but somehow, that just doesn't sound like a very good reward for surviving this. I'm caught between a rock and a hard place here.

This work is hard. It's draining, and I'm looking forward to not having so many deadlines CONSTANTLY hanging over my head, but at the same time... when this ends, my friends leave me, and realistically, it will be a very long time before I see them again, if ever. How can I celebrate the end of something so Beautiful? even if it does coincide with not having to write essays. I'd write an essay a week for the rest of my life if it meant I could be with these people. (Crazy huh? You'd understand if you met them).

I can't wait for this to be done so I can sleep and eat and live normally—and read for fun!!!!!—while at the same time, I never want this to end. Ah, but no matter how I feel about it, the date is approaching, and I intend to make the most of the little time we have left.  Tomorrow night Felicia and I are making a blanket fort with the 3 ft high stack of blankets that's been growing in my closet :) (Explanation? Well, they bring us clean sheets every friday. We're supposed to change our sheets and leave the dirty ones out in the hall to be collected on Monday. However... I don't change my sheets every week! So I've been staking all the clean ones in my closet...but the stack has grown to be ridiculously huge. Felicia's solution? Blanket fort. I adore this girl.)

Well, I don't really have any other updates. And really all this update says is "Oxford is hard." Real insightful, Maria. Sorry, I guess I've used up all my brain power in writing essays. I know my family will be glad to hear that I'm working so hard. School work is important. It's hard, but it's important, and I enjoy it even though it's been a bit overwhelming. I'm thinking about taking an adventure this weekend as a reward for the hard week. Perhaps another journey down the Thames, although it's much too cold now to take a swim at the end of the journey. I'll just have to find something else ridiculous to do...

Great [un]Expectations

I guess it's probably time for an update. I don't have a clever way to structure my stories tonight, so I'll just jump in and hopefully use some lovely pictures to help add some structure.

Today marks the half point of my first term of Oxford tutorials. In the last 4 weeks, I've read 5 novels cover to cover, I've spent DAYS in the library reading secondary material, and I've written 4 2,000-word essays and 2 short stories (which are still in the process of being edited). These have been some of the most lovely weeks of my life. It would be impossible to record everything that's been happening, but I will attempt to give some highlights. Ah, where to begin?! How about my actual tutorials.

In Oxford, we don't have classes like back in the States. I go to whichever lectures I want whenever I want—none of them are required by Oxford although my program requires me to go to any 3 every week. And then every week I read lots of books about a certain topic, write a paper on the topic and then go discuss the paper and the topic with my tudor. (They call them tudors instead of professors here) I have two "tutorials" (meeting with tudor) for this term. The first is Victorian Literature with the magnificent Emma Plaskitt. She's an amazing tudor! She's unbelievably brilliant, but she never makes me feel like I'm dumb. She's such a lovely person that my meeting with her is one of my favorite parts of the week. 

I'm also taking Creative Writing with a splendid gent named Kieron Winn (he writes legit poetry. Look him up!). I only meet with him once every other week unfortunately, but our time together has been challenging, enriching and incredibly enjoyable. In our first meeting he accidentally told me that I must have psychological issues. Of course, he was actually saying that the character in my short story had to have a psychological problem to make sense, but what he didn't know was that my short story really happened...and the character he was critiquing was me... 

"She just doesn't make sense psychologically! Maybe if she didn't have a father or something, then her actions would make sense. I mean, do you know someone who would actually do this?" I've never been one to take pleasure in other people's discomfort, but I couldn't help but love every second of Dr. Winn's discomfort when I informed him that I did happen to know someone who would actually do the things in the story. She would, and she did! He put two and two together, "Oh God.... she's not sitting across the table from me is she? Oh God! I'm so sorry... I... I really hope you have a father..." His reaction was golden. What better way to start a friendship? :)

So that's been great. I'm working hard, learning lots, and loving it! The Radcliffe library which is a funky little building apart from the main Bodleian library is my favorite spot to work thus far

This is the outside of it. It's super fun because there's a sign on the pathway leading up to it that says "No Visitors,"so there are always a bunch of tourists crowding around the gate around it taking pictures of it—since it's so cool looking—and I just walk right by them and past the sign because I'm not a visitor here. I've been granted entrance to the magical building. It's exciting for me every time I walk down that cobblestone path.











Then this is the inside of the building. The dome has the most beautiful decoration painted onto it, and the windows let the beautiful sunlight pour in (when it exists). There are windy staircases and walls and walls of the most lovely, old smelling books. It's an English major's dream.

Alright well enough about work. What have I been doing to entertain myself? you might ask. That's a great question. Allow me to shed some light on the subject.

This is what I've been doing. I've been spending every waking minute (and some minutes which should not be 'waking') with the beautiful friends I've made here. When I came to Oxford, I was ready for hard work, I was prepared for feeling homesick, I was even prepared to take on some extra stress about the direction of my life, but I was in no way prepared to fall as deeply in love as I have with these incredible people. I have been so blessed by these friendships, I often find myself completely overwhelmed by the unexpectedness of it all. I could go on and on about why I love each of them, but it would take forever.

The above picture is of something immensely dear to me which we've come to call "family dinner." I told my friends that I wanted to cook an Italian dinner for them all some time and now it's become a weekly deal. Sunday lunch/dinner is family time. We're all split up into food groups of 4-5 people who take turns cooking for each other during the week, but on sunday all the food groups come together and we eat together—it's just like sunday dinner at Nonna's. Our first family dinner, I cooked an Italian meal (complete with cantaloupe, just like Nonna always had), and we enjoyed each others company and ate until we were stuffed...then Morgan fed us the most delicious chocolate cake in the universe!! SO good! This past week I made Irish stew like my Irish momma taught me and we invited Simon (dean of student affairs...or something like that?) to join us with his family. His daughter of 7 helped me make the Irish bread. She was pretty proud of her work. I genuinely had fun with her. I forgot how fun it is pretending to be 7!

Other than eating ALL THE TIME, I've also been drinking lots! As in, I've been having LOTS of tea and coffee! I've officially learned to like tea. Success. Tuesday afternoon is tea time with Simon when people from my dorm building (aka my family) and the other SCIO house (aka beautiful people that I haven't had the pleasure of getting to know as well) all come together into Simon's lovely little office and order the tea of our liking with secret code names (I always order a "Fat Cow") and sit together, eating more and simply enjoying each other's company. It's another favorite part of my week.

These pictures below are from a coffee date with my dear friend Nathan. The picture of my flat white is too pretty and Nathan's picture too delightful to deny them from being seen by more eyes than merely my own.

 I love coffee dates. They're such simple, beautiful opportunities to share life with beautiful people. I also went to tea (and then thrift store shopping! So fun) with my beautiful friends Emily and Morgan the other day. It was beyond enjoyable. And I bought a stoner beanie, exceptional. Tomorrow I'm getting lunch with a dear friend from the other SCIO building and I'll have the chance to get to know her better. This way of life is so incredible. I could do it forever.

Oh, I should probably also mention that I'm in an a cappella group now called In the Pink. I'm the official beatboxer which I (along with many others I'm guessing) never would've imagined a couple years ago. Tomorrow is our first gig, and I have a solo in one of the songs. I think it's going to be really fun! I've had the pleasure of meeting such incredible girls through being in the group, and I'm really glad I'm a part of it.

Ok, one last story before I go watch a show my darling friend Felicia recommended to me...

I went to my first English dance club last weekend. It was saturday. We had just finished our weekly saturday potluck (Oh yah, that happens every week too. SO much food!!). Dave, Nathan, and Colin sat on the floor with full bellies as Felicia and I looked at them lovingly from our seats at the table. They wanted us to come to Jericho, a little hipster town a little east of where Wycliffe Hall is, to get some drinks at a "hoppin" pub. How could we deny them? At the boys request, Felicia and I snazzied ourselves up and we 6 (we were joined by our dear friend Joe) headed out towards Jericho, Felicia looking positively enchanting and me looking entirely Spanish (I can't help it when I wear red and put a flower in my hair...).  The pub was as "hoppin" as Dave said it would be and we all got fun fruity drinks, except some of the guys who got more "manly" drinks. The evening was fantastic. We returned to Wycliffe and sat at Geoff's doorstep (Geoff=RA) asking for food. I laughed so hard I nearly chocked and died. But I didn't. It was great.

After we finished harassing Geoff, Felicia, Colin and I decided to get some tea and do a bit of work in the common room. After a bit of time pretending to do work, some friends of ours who are part of the OCCA (Oxford Center for Christian Apologetics) program here at Wycliffe came into the common room and announced that they were going pub-hopping. They invited us along. It was saturday and it was barely midnight, so I convinced Felicia to come with me on an adventure. This is how we got to the dance club. As we walked, the boys informed us that the place we were going was possibly sketchy... oh great. But when we got there, it turned out to be just a regular run of the mill dance club/pub. Except, without the inaprops dancing. The English version of club dancing is merely bobbing up and down. It's fantastic! We got drinks and sat around chatting until the music drew us to the dance floor. We danced and laughed and enjoyed the rest of the evening together. When most of our little group went to take a break from dancing, one of the OCCA guys—who happens to be a magnificent swing dancer—threw out the idea of swing dancing in the club. Challenge accepted. We rocked it. I didn't think it was possible to swing dance to techno music, but my marvelous lead swung me around as naturally as if we were dancing to Benny Goodman (if you don't know the reference, look him up. He's brilliant). The dancing was magnificent, the company was sensational, and the post-dancing, 2am snack of Chips'n'kebobs from the Kebob man in his little truck on the street was a perfect end to the evening. Is it crazy that this is a normal day for me? Am I spoiled?


Ok, I lied. One last story. I made a pie tonight. (See picture). I cooked for our food group tonight and asked Nathan, who happens to be a part of our group, what he really wanted for dinner. His answer was ice cream and pie—this is why I love this kid :) I had never made pie before, but I was determined to figure it out! I wanted to make strawberry rhubarb pie, but when I went to the store, they were all out of rhubarb. I thought about giving up, but my word to Nathan about making pie kept me persistent. I'd make a pie if it killed me! Ok, I'm a little dramatic. It came no where near killing me. I just changed the pie ingredients from rhubarb and strawberries to apples and strawberries. I had no idea what I was doing, but whatever I did, it worked! The pie, as you can see in the picture, did not explode and, though you can't see it in the picture, it neither caused any deaths after consumption. (Boy was it consumed!) It was a complete success, and the pie was completely gone within an hour of being done. I have more crust left over so I think I shall make it again soon. I love making pie. I plan on continuing this.

Well, now you're up to date. All is well in the world of Oxford. I'm learning, I'm loving, and I'm lynching. Just kidding about the last one. You all probably assumed I was going to say 'living' so I decided to throw you a curve ball and say something you definitely didn't expect. My creative writing tudor tells me that aestheticism is all about being shocking. I think he might be a little crazy... but I figured I'd give his ideas a try :)

Also, if you're bored, you can always send me letters. If you do, I'll post it on my letter wall by my bed :)

A Picture's Worth a Thousand Words

(Is a picture really worth the same as a thousand words? I don't really think so. There is a power in words that pictures just don't have, but then there's a power in pictures that words don't have. I don't think it's fair to judge the on the same scale. It's really just a cliche that works as a title...)

So my last post was about the Beauty of the University Parks here in Oxford. My daddy emailed me telling me how he liked my post and wished I'd put up more pictures of flowers. So I decided to dedicate this post to pictures to give a glimpse of the Beauty that I've described. Especially for you, Daddy! :)

Here we go, snapshots of the flowers in the University Parks!

Bright Pink Bell-looking Flowers

Tall, Fluffy, Exotic White Plants

Ah, lovin the contrast. Dark pink, pale green. Magnificent!

SO RED!!!!

Today I discovered something new: A popcorn plant!

Such a Deep Blue

Cool, deep maroon contrasted beautifully with the white

Fire Flowers. Super Cool-Looking

Don't the bright colors make you feel like you're looking at pictures of a jungle?

It's a jungle out there! 

Momma Flowers—super rich purple!!

Falls in the UK aren't exactly like fall in the North East....

But there's Beauty to be found everywhere! 

Alright, there are my pictures to back up last post. Since I'm in the process of uploading photos, I figured I'd also upload a few more cool ones.

The next few are from the other night when I watched the sunset from the castle mound. I was going to go to a church service at 6, but then decided (after already going out) to go to my church service at 7. I had an hour to kill, so I went to the Oxford Castle. Old castle, made a slave to consumerism, now a fancy hotel/restaurant/bar and big tourist attraction. It's a pretty cool place despite my critical description of it's function. Thankfully, it was evening when I went, and the tourist function of the castle was done for the day. The castle mound is literally just a big hill next to the castle that's been preserved for a long time and now they make tourists pay to climb it. I, of course, did not go during tourist hours, so the shop to buy a ticket was closed.... so I hopped the fence. I sat on top and looked at the breathtaking night sky. It was lovely.

The cool green steeple behind me

This is the city where I go to school.... Too cool.

And one last picture: I was walking around Oxford today because I was supposed to meet my friends in a pub to do work, but when I got there, they were MIA (I ended up finding them later. Happy day!). I decided to walk around until I could figure out where to study, and I ended up walking down this long, windy, narrow cobblestone back street with tall walls enclosing both sides. It was so magical. I loved it. And I imagined these being the kind of walls that Jean Valjean scaled to get into the garden of the convent. It was one of those dorky English major moments when a book came to life on a new level for me. Ah, what a beautiful place I live in!

Well, that's all for now. I'll write more stories later, as in, when it's no longer 4 am. Mer.

Evolution of Beauty

I had a thought today that I wasn't sure what to do with. It wasn't quite poem material, and I couldn't reduce it down to a one-liner for a facebook status, so I figured I'd write about it on my blog. That's allowed, right?

This thought occurred to me while I was walking my familiar path in the University Parks. First of all, I love the University Parks. In the middle of this very busy, fast moving metropolis of Oxford there are these sacred 91 acres of beautiful, green wilderness. Of course, it's not really wilderness. There are paths and beautiful benches scattered about, but in contrast to the city, it's a wilderness. There's a beautiful river which flows through part of it and a duck pond in one corner of it. There are big open cricket fields, and parts where thick underbrush and trees grow wild. There are flower beds full of flowers with colors you cannot even imagine, and it's all so peaceful. What a beautiful retreat from the busyness of the city.

As I was walking this familiar path today, it hit me how strange it was that there was such a distinct difference between my feelings in response to the park at that very moment in time and my feelings when I first adventured through the parks down that path. The Beauty had somehow evolved. (Sidenote: Dear conservative friends, please do not be offended that I'm using the world evolution. It is not an evil thing, and I'm just using it to mean the gradual change of something overtime. I love you a lot.)

So what was the difference? Well, when I first walked through the parks, there was a certain Beauty in the newness of it all. Every field had exciting potential, every tree possessed a secret, every path took me to a new world. It was thrilling, and adventurous, and undeniably beautiful. I knew it was Beautiful in and of itself before I reacted to it. I just brought the adventure and thrill with me in my experience. But then my feelings today were much different. Today the path wasn't exactly thrilling, and it certainly didn't feel like it was an adventure. Today the path was Beautiful because it was familiar. I knew the path. It knew me. It was like walking with an old friend. There was Beauty in remembering, remembering the excitement of the beginning, and there was Beauty in feeling like I belonged there.

I'm realizing that this is almost always how I experience Beauty. There's always a point when I'm first introduced to the Beauty and I love it for its thrill and adventure, but then as I become familiar with it, it changes completely. I react to it differently; I perceive it differently. I think sometimes we make the mistake of letting the familiar stage be the stage when we stop appreciating Beauty. When the thrill wears off, so does, in our minds, the Beauty. But I'm convinced that Beauty is a constant. If something is truly Beautiful, then it remains Beautiful for as long as it remains (though that's not to say that when it changes, it's not possible for the changed object to be Beautiful as well. It certainly might be. It would just have to be reassessed). I want to continue to see the Beauty in things even when the newness wears off. I'm so glad I've been able to do that here in Oxford. Everything here is so overwhelmingly Beautiful. I can't stand to think I could ever take it for granted.

I wrote in a post a couple weeks ago that Oxford has become "normal for me but not exactly." I'm thinking now that Oxford's Beauty has just evolved, or rather, my perception of the Beauty of Oxford has evolved. At first, it was Beautiful, new, thrilling, and adventurous, and now it's familiar, comforting, almost homey, and still Beautiful. Ah, I live in such a Beautiful world. And ya know what? This is the same world I lived in back in the States. Amazing that I had to fly halfway across the world to realize the Beauty of my home. God is so good. There is Beauty everywhere, sometimes we just have to look intentionally to find it.

Here's the view from the bench I sat on today: The duck pond!

The sky was magnificent. The sun was super bright.

So blessed.

Kiss me I'm Irish! (It all makes sense...)

Ok, I'll admit it. I don't always make the best decisions in the world. I often tell myself that plans are overrated and that spontaneity and last minute decisions are perfectly acceptable in all circumstances, but they're just not. Especially if you're going to go camping through Ireland. You have to have a plan. Well... I didn't, but amazingly, I didn't die. Allow me to relate the story about how my incredibly stupid unplanned trip turned into one of the greatest experiences of my life.

The beginning of my trip was just a harbinger for the disaster I was walking into. I started completely on the wrong foot. I had printed out some maps and accidentally left them in my room. Then, we were in London for the day for a field trip to the Imperial War Museum which is not a terribly uplifting museum. When I tried to find Paddington Station where I was to catch my first train, I got lost thanks to my lack of maps. I found a place with free wifi and searched for the station on my iPod, but when I arrived at the destination that the map led me to, there was no station. Well, shoot. I wandered about and found Baker street (221B Baker Street, anybody? :) ) But, I wasn't looking for Baker street. I was looking for Paddington Station. I finally stumbled upon a map display of the part of city I was in and discovered the general direction I had to go to get to Paddington. It was much further away than I anticipated...

I made it to the station around 6 (Pretty sure I left the museum around 3. Mer.) And my train was to leave at 8. I was planning on having much more extra time, and I was planning on using that extra time to go find an emergency bike pump. Unfortunately, by the time I got to the station, figured out how to collect my tickets, reserved a place for my bike on all the different trains, and got a little food in my belly, my time was very limited, and I was exhausted. Oh, and then it started pouring. Nice. I gave up hope of finding a bike pump. Bad planning.

Side note: You know that game 'Simon Says'? Well, I discovered that it applies to real life. The dean of student affairs for our program here is named Simon. Before I left, I chatted with Simon about my trip, and Simon said to make sure I had a puncture kit and bike pump for my bike. I did not do what Simon said, and you know what? I lost. Big time. I should've remembered that from kindergarten. If you don't do what Simon says, you lose.

My journey to Ireland was easy enough. I sat next to a kind fella from Saudi Arabia named Faisal on the first train, and he waited with me for my next train in Wales because it was late and he didn't want me to be alone. It was very kind. After a nice nap on that next train, I arrived at the ferry port around 1am. I checked in and was told I could bring my bike on the boat without the £9 fee. That was awfully nice. The boat was beautiful. Like a cruise ship! I didn't want to pay for a room though, so I slept on the floor in the hallway next to a plug so I could charge my iPod. I got up around 5 am hoping to see the sunrise, but it was dark until 7. We arrived in Ireland around 6:45, and I made my way to the beach hoping to see a light show.



The view was lovely, though not as spectacular as I was hoping. The romantic in me was ready to be blown away. I enjoyed the view, but honestly, I was let down. It was too cloudy to see the sun come up from the sea, and it was really, really cold. But I was still hopeful. I had the whole weekend before me! I wouldn't be discouraged that easily.


Well, I started my journey into town and quickly had to come to terms with the fact that my back wheel was basically flat. I was in a little tiny Irish fishing village with a flat wheel and no pump. Oh and it was 7 o'clock in the morning, so nothing was open. I was tired and cold, and the place where I wanted to camp that night was 8 miles away. I started biking, but the roads were bumpy and I could feel my back wheel resisting every rotation (I will never again fail to do what Simon says...). After weighing my options, I decided to just start biking south. I didn't know what I was expecting to find down there, but I knew I couldn't just sit around in the cold waiting for the town to wake up. It had rained the night before so the roads were wet, the air was cold, and the skies were dark. The land was overgrown and anything but beautiful. I wasn't prepared for that. Nature was supposed to teach me about Beauty and inspire wonder within me, instead it was discouraging me more and more with every hill I biked up. Wordsworth hadn't prepared me for this one!

After a little while, I saw a sign for St. Margaret's beach. I thought maybe if I could get to the beach, everything would be better, so I turned off the main road to follow the sign. The road was predominantly uphill. I couldn't help but seriously question my sanity. After what seemed like forever, I made it to the end of the tiny little "road" and was greeted by the beautiful sight of the sea.

It still wasn't terribly sunny, but it was beautiful and I felt a bit more at peace. I was so tired that I took a nice 2 hour nap in the sand, and when I woke up, I was greeted by the full splendor of the landscape.

The sun was shinning bright, and there were people walking along the beach. There was even a person riding their horse through the shallow water. It was breathtaking. I was finally feeling like I had made a good decision in coming to Ireland. I locked up my bike and went to explore a bit on foot. I decided to follow the coast down to the point which was about 2 miles south. It was a gorgeous walk. The weather was perfect for walking. Cool but not too cold.

After walking along, perfectly content, singing my Irish songs and meeting a nice herd of cows (they were actually terrifying....) I made it to the point. I climbed down the large, cliff-like shore to stand on the rocks right by the water. I even got splashed a little because I was standing so close to the sea. I sang some Little Mermaid and then turned back to get back to my beach.

The path was enchanting. The sunshine was beautiful and made the sea look unreal. I sat on a rock and played a bit of penny whistle and made a caterpillar friend. I was so very content that I forgot all about the terrible morning. I had all the confidence in the world in my "plans," and was thrilled that I would be camping on that
beautiful beach I had found that morning.

On the way back to the main beach, I passed a field where there was an older gent in a tractor. I waved (since I learned that it's the Irish way) and he smiled real big and waved back. By the time I had made it back to the pier, the same man was there getting off his tractor. He asked me if I was lost, and I told him I was just exploring. Since I was clearly not Irish, he asked what I was doing there and we chatted for a bit. His name was Jackie. I asked him if there was any good pub nearby where one could get a nice dinner, and he got all concerned that there wasn't a place close enough that he could send me to. "Uoh Jayzus" he kept saying in his thick Irish accent as he rubbed his head, wracking his brain for a place to send me to. In the end I told him not to worry about it, that I had a bit of food on me yet and that I didn't really need a pub. He asked if I wanted a ride on his tractor over to the other side of the beach where my bike was, and I said sure! (He later scolded me for doing that and told me that it wasn't safe taking rides from strangers :P) He dropped me off and gave me €20 to buy myself dinner in exchange for a kiss on the cheek. It was too cute.

I went and set up my tent in a place that Jackie suggested, away from where people sometimes went for some "courtin'," as he called it. It was perfect. My tent was up, the sunshine was warm, and I had a feast of bread, cheese, carrots, nuts, and an apple for dinner. I sat on the beach in the sun and ate while I wrote a few letters. The evening was beautiful.

And then came the night.... Remember that thing about me not always making the best decisions? Well, one of my not-so-great decisions was deciding not to bring a sleeping bag. I didn't have room in my bag when I put the tent in there, so I just opted out of bringing one. It was freezing cold, and I didn't have a sleeping bag! I have never been more cold in my life. I was seriously concerned that I was going to get hypothermia. My fear of that was almost worse than the cold. I'm not sure what it feels like to freeze to death, but I'm fairly certain I got a taste of it that night. I shivered so much that I thought my arms and legs were going to fall off. I would "sleep" for hour increments and then wake up and roll up tighter into a ball to try to produce a little more heat. I prayed so hard that God would just get me through the night, and, praise Him, He did. I awoke the next morning to this sight...

"The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; His mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness!"

It was magnificent!! The sunrise out of the sea which I had been so eager to see. I'm so blessed. I got out of my tent and walked along the beach soaking in the sunshine. It felt so good to be warm. After taking a bit of a walk, I sat down on a rock near my tent and nearly fell asleep sitting up. I decided I'd crawl back into my tent and hopefully get a couple more hours of real sleep. The sun had warmed my tent so it was like sleeping in a sauna. So good after being so cold during the night! I slept so soundly for the next hour that I woke up feeling like I had slept the day away. Seeing that it was only 10 am, I let myself sleep a bit longer and then was awakened an hour later by a frightening sound.

"HALLO?! Is anybody in there?? Hallo??" It was a man's voice, and my first thought was that I was going to be yelled at for setting up a tent on the beach. I wasn't sure if I should respond, but I couldn't think clearly since I was just walking up. I made some kind of noise to show I was there, and then the voice continued, "It's me! Jackie, from yesterday!" Ah! How good is the voice of a friend. My heartbeat dropped back down to normal, and I poked my head out to see what was up. Jackie said he had worried about me being out all by myself with no food (I told him the day before that I had food, but he didn't think it was sufficient), and that I was to come to breakfast. I wasn't sure if it was very safe to go to a random man's house, but I had run out of water and I knew I wouldn't last another night on my own, so I packed up my tent and followed Jackie's directions to his house.

When I arrived, I was greeted by the beautiful face of his wife, Eileen. Thank God for her. She told me to sit down at the table where this feast was set out. They gave me the best tea I've ever had and homemade brown bread and scones, and then after only a couple minutes, Eileen brought out the real breakfast. Eggs, a pile of potatoes, a couple sausage links, big chunks of bacon, and all cooked to perfection! It was a breakfast fit for a queen.

I was informed that I was not allowed to camp by myself anymore, and Eileen showed me their spare bedroom where I would stay. She didn't give me much of a choice. She bossed me around like a regular momma. It was wonderful.

After a slightly awkward breakfast of getting to know each other, I informed my generous hosts of my flat wheel, and within 5 minutes Jackie was out the door to find me a pump. He borrowed a pump from a neighbor and had my bike ship-shape in no time. Eileen told me she'd go with me on a bike ride to the point, and we had a wonderful time. As we rode, she told me all about everything. The people who owned the different plots of land, the history of her family and where they all are now, the quirks of the area, the economic situation of Ireland. It was incredible. I was seeing Ireland through the eyes of her people.

More than anything else, Eileen talked to me about the economic difficulties of Ireland. She lamented over the greed and deception of recent government leaders and explained to me how it used to be in the good old days. She nostalgically spoke of the days where the small farmers made a good living off their land, getting a bit of extra money collecting Periwinkles (a kind of snail that they would sell to France) or catching crab and lobster. The little fishing town was not nearly as vibrant or thriving as it used to be thanks to the debt of the country and all the new laws and regulations for farmers. My heart broke for these people. And yet, I was inspired by them. Despite their hardships, they lived beautiful lives in intimate community.


On our way back from the bike ride, Eileen took me to the pier where some of her fishing pals were just coming in with a catch of crabs. We didn't go there to do anything. Eileen just wanted to see her friends and be with them as they did life. It was so cool to watch them interact and help each other out. It was also cool to see all the crabs! Eileen told me that the man in this picture of the boat is the best crab fisherman in Carne. The man on the left, Sean, is a gruff old fisherman who was there to help the man unload the crabs. He was so cute. His overalls were buttoned in the wrong spots and he looked positively disheveled. It was adorable.




After the crabs were all loaded into a trailer, Eileen and I headed back to the house for tea. There were more scones and brown bread, tea, and lots of biscuits (aka cookies). She kept offering more food and was offended if I didn't eat it. It felt like being back with my Nonna.

After tea, Eileen decided she wanted to show me the cute little fishing village of Kilmore Quay (pronounced 'key'). When I was first "planning" my trip, I had wanted to visit there, but it was a good 20 miles from the coast, and I didn't feel like basing my entire trip on the long bike ride there and back. But there I was getting to go after all! I was so thankful. We looked around a bit, and then we bought some fresh fish and chips to bring back with us. 

It was all so wonderful. When we got home, we sat down to eat together and Eileen even gave me a bit of white wine to go with my fish. I got the royal treatment, I'll tell ya! After I had eaten my fill, I noticed that the sun was going down, and I had really wanted to see the sun go down into the ocean. I asked Eileen if it would be alright if I was excused to go catch the sunset, and she seemed shocked by my politeness. She told me to do whatever I wanted and to stop worrying about them. I thanked them a million times and told them I'd be back soon. I hopped on my bike and rode like the wind to get to the point before the sun set. Well, I made it :)

From the point, I could look west to see the sun go down into the Atlantic

 It was ineffably beautiful. The millions of pictures I took barely scratch the surface of the Beauty of that moment. I'm so blessed!

Where I sat to watch the sunset

I made my way out of the cold back to the beautiful house that was waiting for me. I came in to find Eileen vacuuming the spare bedroom. She informed me that she had turned on the heated blanket (seriously?!) and everything was ready for me. She took me into the kitchen to feed me more, and I was introduced to this delicious dessert. Corn flour (custard type stuff) with rhubarb. MmmMmm! It was so good.  Eileen got really close to my face to watch me eat it. I think it brought her much happiness to see me enjoying it so much. Such a Nonna! :)

After I finished my dessert, Eileen brought me into the sitting room to watch "telly" with them. We watched an Irish game show! It was fantastic. During the boring parts we would chat and laugh together. It almost felt like Home. They brought me everywhere with them and treated me like I was part of the family. I met their son and his wonderful wife and adorable child the next morning. I watched the Irish hurling match with them during the afternoon (hurling = baseball + field hockey + soccer + lacrosse + football. But really, hurling = attractive men in very short shorts!) And then they took me to Bingo with them that evening. It was brilliant. They made me feel like I belonged there. They were so good to me.

On monday, my last full day, Eileen and I babysat Ryan, their grandson, all day. He was the cutest little thing you ever did see. He really liked me and always smiled when I was around. I was glad I could help out Eileen by helping watch him. It was the least I could do, and let's be honest, I had so much fun with the kid! Ryan's dad (Jackie and Eileen's son) Jonathan came over for tea and Eileen made me get some pictures with them on the tractor. She was so cute, always telling me to take pictures of everything.

Here's Jonathan and Ryan on their tractor. Eileen made me get up
with them so I could be in the picture :)

Well, after tea, Eileen took me on some errands with her. We went to the tiny little grocery store where Eileen knew everyone by name. I walked around with Ryan while Eileen got all the things she needed. We stopped by Eileen's brother's house and pet one of his horses. It was so fun, and Ryan was loving it. Afterwards, we came home and Eileen taught me how to make brown bread, scones, and bread pudding. We made all of that in under a half hour! It was crazy. She was so efficient. She taught me how to properly set the table for hosting people. She taught me her secrets of efficient cleaning. And she gave me lots of instructions about all the best ingredients to buy. I was so thankful, and she kept telling me it was nothing. She had no idea how much it meant to me.

After our delicious dinner of minced meat stew and potatoes (I made this for my food group yesterday. It came out pretty well!), we had to take Ryan back to his home. I went with Jackie to drop him off, and then Jackie showed me around Jonathan's farm. Jonathan is a bus driver just like Jackie and Eileen used to be before they retired, but he also has a farm which Jackie helps him with. It had rained a bit and then it was really sunny so there was a beautiful rainbow. I was so stricken by the magic of the whole thing.

The next morning I was to leave on the ferry at 9. I told Eileen that I would probably leave around 7 so I could get there on time on my bike and have enough time to board. She smiled and bid me good night and scolded me for the late-night walk which I took to see the moon over the sea. It was so nice having someone scold me for stupid decisions.

I woke up real early the next morning and got all my things packed up. I came into the kitchen where Eileen was already busy preparing pre-breakfast. She told me to sit down for some tea, but it was already 7 so I told her I didn't have enough time if I was to get there early enough on my bike. She looked at me like I was crazy and said matter-of-factly, "Jackie is going to take you in the jeep." And that was that. It was a, "Like, duh!" statement if I ever heard one. Eileen had me pack up all the things she was sending home with me—the brown bread we made, scones, leftover bread pudding, and the lunch she packed me for the ferry. I was so spoiled. Since I was up so early, we had about an hour to spend at breakfast together before I left. In contrast to our first breakfast together, it was perfect. We were talking up a storm and I was making them laugh. It felt like I had known them my whole life. Jackie got all my stuff packed into the car, and Eileen came out to see us off. I hugged her and gave her a kiss on the cheek and thanked her with all the sincerity and love I could express. She told me I was welcome back anytime and to take care of myself (no more camping on my own! she said). As we drove away, her eyes got all watery. She was such a gift from God. Here's a picture of them. My beautiful Irish parents.
 

                                           

When Jackie dropped me off at the ferry port, he was basically crying as well. He said he hated to see me go, but even more he hated saying good-bye. He was such a sap. But I love him. He made me give him a kiss before I left, and he told me he'd never forget me - "There aren't many like you," he choked out. Jackie was a bit of a goof at times, but he was sweet, and it was hard to say good-bye.

I got on my ferry alright (I got to board like a car. It was so much cooler than walking on as a foot passenger!) and found a spot on the top deck to watch the island disappear. It was kinda rainy and super windy so I wasn't able to play my penny whistle the whole time like I hoped to, but I did get a few songs in before we lost sight of her. It was a beautiful moment.

 After the long ferry ride and jumping from train to train (that proved much scarier for me than I had anticipated), I made it back to Oxford. The switching of trains was really tricky, but I was so blessed by people to help me all along the way. I made one friend who was going to see her grandson in London. She was such a beautiful lady. People are so very precious. Even though I tend to be drawn to the Beauty of Nature, sometimes I can't help but be amazed by the profound Beauty found in people. We are made in the image of God, and as such, we are Beautiful. Ah, so good!

So I'm home now. I'm doing laundry and preparing for the real start of my Oxford studies. I'm not quite sure what to expect. It might be really hard. So hard that it will be difficult to find any time to do more exploring or adventuring. But then, it might not. It might be perfectly manageable. I'm not sure. Today is the "Fresher's Fair" as they call it, which is basically like Ye Old Scotty Faire (which any Gordonites would understand). It's a huge fair when all the clubs and societies come out and give you free things and try to convince you to join them.  I like free things so I'm excited for it. I'm also going to see what I can find out about the Oxford a cappella groups. I desperately miss singing. So we'll see how that goes. Oh and I might try out to be in a play! I love the idea of being in a play at Oxford. How cool would that be.

All in all, I'm alive and well, and I'm ready to face the beginning of this next intense part of my year. Lots of new. Lots of opportunities. After my trip to Ireland, it's a little hard to change my mindset and settle down and go back to living a normal life. Doing laundry, cooking my own food, doing homework. But those things are essential to a balanced life. I realize I can't live in a dreamworld all the time. Besides, I don't think I would want to. It's good to embrace reality. Work is good. Waiting is good. Hard is good. I'm ready to work hard and suffer through hours of reading and writing. In the end, those are the kinds of things that improve character. Magical weekends in Ireland are Beautiful, but Beauty exists in the everyday, and I have to keep reminding myself of that. I was blessed this weekend. And I'm so blessed here at Oxford. I am blessed, and God is Good, always.