English as a Second Language

(My dear, they just simply mustn't)

Rowing

I was up at 6 AM this morning, and I think it was the first time that I took notice of the stars and English night sky. I scarfed a handful of bran flakes (out of milk), ripped into a hunk of cheese, ran out the door, and peddled furiously to the Longbridges boathouse.

Thinking about it, my early morning rowing practice now complete, I find that sharp cheddar breakfast significant. I think of winter hikers eating sticks of butter and Native Alaskans in Chevak with strips of muktuk. These are winter survival foods. And I, a participant in an atavistic, masochistic, elating exercise activity very close to cold, dark water, darn well deserved a bit of rocket fuel too.

It is hard for me not to think of athletics in these heroic terms: perhaps part of it is the team aspect or maybe thoughts of Jason's Argonauts. But primarily it's about the joy of a physical challenge, something to be overcome with brawn - not brains. Something that makes one crave steak and cheese and puts color on the cheeks.

In an academic world where reading is never done and truth, not to mention development, is only used in quotation marks, total bodily fatigue is a welcome despot. And its imperative - sleep - cannot be deconstructed, problematized, contextualizzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

Oh, sorry! Must have dozed off. After all, I got up early today.

Photo: My hands after rowing.

Matriculation

With a bit of Latin and a funny outfit I've become a member of the university. Huzzah!

Photos (top-bottom): Walking from Green Templeton to the Sheldonian theater; lining up for the college photo; entering the Sheldonian - the theater is the building with the cupola.

I'm in love...

...with my Peugeot.

PB&J

We talk about globalization a lot - the promise of markets for products, the fear of a loss of individual character and diversity. In light of the latter, it was good to see that the British nation has not yet been engulfed by the tsunami of American culture and tastes. Case in point, the serious ghetto-ization of peanut butter at the supermarket (photo at left).

It may be my time looking after the galley and shopping throughout Indo, or maybe it's my appetite, but supermarkets are a favorite destination in a new place. In Timor-Leste there was the $17 pints of Ben & Jerry's, the orange juice from Cyprus, and delicious frozen dumplings from Singapore; in Darwin, we had the gold foil-wrapped chocolate wombats at Easter time - complete with purple ribbons - and a glut of Australia-themed breakfast cereals (in case you're lost?).

So, while it is hard to pass judgment on this new country based on my shopping to date, walking down the aisles today did feel like a quick peek into a country's medicine cabinet: an epic selection of teas, a dozen varieties of digestive biscuits, and a whole lane devoted to nothing but beers and lager. I think I'm catching on; winter, after all, must be on its way.

My Street

Oxford Arrival

Phew! I've made it, and, after 14 hours of sleep last night, I am feeling much more myself.

I've been picking up essentials - SIM card for the phone, binders (Jess's students take note!), duvet, and the funny polyester gown. Oxford is lovely, but more crowded than I expected, with lots of tourists and high school students out and about. It makes me appreciate the open sea views in Darwin.

Part of this experience so far has been wholly British: the architecture, the beetle-shaped taxis. The students, however, are not. I share my area of the dorm with three women (Chinese, Indian and South African respectively), and eating lunch at the college yesterday I met my first Brit - or so I thought - his crisp accent belied that he was born and raised in Zimbabwe.

And I myself seem to be approaching this course in Development Studies as a daughter of Timor-Leste. As Robert Lucas wrote concerning how poor states could recover from economic collapse or emerge from long-term stagnation: "The consequences for human welfare involved in questions like these are simply staggering: Once one starts to think about them, it is hard to think about anything else."

This affliction, caught in Dili, is really why I am here. To think of nothing else.



Pictures: First, the view from my room. Second, my room's interior.