Elementary Surroundings- Basic Description.

Two planes, one bus, a taxi, and lots of walking around... and I am here! I spent one delirious jet lagged night at a lovely Inn called the Head of the River (thanks to my nameless, but angelic, hotel-booking benefactress). I nearly collapsed on the doormat with my one suitcase, heavy viola, and computer bag. Out came this matron type, white-haired lady, the madame of the pub. She made a big fuss over me, and had her lacky take my bag from me. He was just as distinctive as Madame, surly looking, and taciturn. It would have been fitting if he had been a hunchback, but alas, he lacked any visible handicaps except a big burn on his arm. When I had recovered enough to have some dinner, I found that he was also the bartender, and served me a pint of this big heavy stout when I asked for a water. He winked at me and said (in an almost unrecognizable cockney accent) "didn't come all th' way 'ere' ta drink watah, dijya?" I wasn't sure what the proper response to that could have been, so I drank most of it (nasty, hoppy, dark stuff, made me cough). This pleased him very much, and we became friends over the course of the evening in an Esmeralda/Quasimodo kind of way.

The next morning found me trudging up the main street, luggage in tow. I disdained all passing taxis as the one that had taken me from the bus station ripped me off and was a bit too much of a flirt. It wasn't raining, really, but more like standing under one of those vegetable misters in the produce section. By the end of the trek, I had to stop and rest every block or so, my stuff was so heavy, but in the end, I arrived at Saint Michael's Hall in Shoe Lane. Tiny pedestrian dead end, pigeons flocking everywhere. Its a red building, with a cell phone storefront taking up all the bottom floor. I enjoyed half a second of thinking that the Centre for Medieval and Renaissance studies would be one of those magic locations that only medieval historians could see, and you had to tap a certain brick in the wall for the entrance to appear... but then I saw a big wooden door at the end that kind of blended into the shadow at first. I buzzed myself in, and the nice lady, Fiona came to "sort me out". She is a great, and a kind lady, and showed me up this labyrinth of stairs (David Bowie was not around any of the corners).

First and foremost, my room is a complete eye-sore, unless you have the  good fortune of being color blind. Revolting baby blue duvet, velvet green curtains, brick walls painted a Toys-R-Us yellow, and a ketchup red rug. It was all clean though, and warm, and functional, and the color scheme less abrasiveness once I'd unpacked and added a little pot of paper whites to the windowsill.

These are all elementary sketches of my surroundings, mostly to assure Mom that all is well and clean and stuff. My bed is the only thing a little weird- my roommate called it a prison bed- she's kind of right. It is really short (not so much a problem for me) and narrow and hard as a plank. Luckily, I have my sleeping bag, so I can snuggle in, look out the window, and see the sky, and pretend I am sleeping outside.

There is lots more to report of course- my wanderings around town, and the Christ Church meadows, my run on the cobblestone streets, the boring content, but brilliant delivery of the safety orientations we've had, the FOOD (I'll come back emaciated, its so vile). I'll reserve judgement on my fellow American students for now. That's the kindest route. For now,  I'm off to dinner to see what else they can do with potatoes... presumably they will run out of ideas very soon.