So Long, Michaelmas Term

It seems impossible, but the eight official weeks of Michaelmas have come and gone. My first term at Oxford is done! Already, the little town's dynamic has completely changed. The undergraduates have all packed up and vacated their rooms for the winter vacation, and the graduates' numbers are dwindling by the day. I will be attending the TAG conference in Bristol in about a week and a half, so I still have some time here in wintry England before I return home for the holidays. But, in honor of being one-third of the way through my master's program, I thought I'd take a look at all the new things I've learned in the past eight weeks. Staying as far away from academics as possible, of course.

The alternative title to this post: "A Smattering of Interesting Factoids Too Long for a Tweet, but Too Short for a Blog Post." Enjoy.

Hazy Broad Street

• How do you like your beans in the morning? In England, baked beans are a breakfast item. Yes, baked beans. The dish Americans reserve for barbecues Brits enjoy with their eggs, sausage, and toast in the morning. I admit that I felt a bit disturbed when I first noticed them in the breakfast buffet line, but I have since grown to enjoy this odd custom. They're cheap and filling, so I can't complain.
• Five go-old rings. On Saturday, the New College hall hosted a Christmas dinner for members of the MCR. The meal, which was absolutely amazing, was served family-style per every ten guests. It began with three starters: a potato leek soup, an English take on bruschetta, and some sort of salmon thing (which I ignored). The main course consisted of a whole chicken, sliced turkey, roasted potatoes, Brussels sprouts (which are a traditional Christmas dish, evidently), red cabbage, stuffing, and gravy. Before dessert, the dining staff served a palate-cleansing sorbet and a sort of mint biscotti. If you still had room in your stomach at this point, a round of desserts--including mince pies, Christmas pudding, fruit, and cheese--finished the meal. Why do I bring this all up? Well, I learned the next titillating bit of information while I ate my refreshing cup of sorbet. In the festivity of the evening, one table erupted into a splendid rendition of "The Twelve Days of Christmas." Much to my surprise, when the fifth day came, my true love gave to me five gold rings, rather than five golden rings. I had never heard it sung that way before, and stretching the word 'gold' to fit two syllables sounded absolutely ridiculous to me. But, according to Wikipedia, the 'gold' version is the original and is therefore 'correct.' It still sounds ridiculous, though, which is probably why it was changed in the first place.
• How grotesque. In October, I posted a few pictures of the charismatic creatures lining the tops of New College's buildings, and I mistakenly referred to them as 'gargoyles.' The vast majority of them are not gargoyles, they are grotesques. What's the difference? Gargoyles have water spouts, grotesques do not.

Peek-a-boo!

• The term 'omnivore' should not be taken literally. William Buckland, a fellow at the college of Corpus Christi in the 19th century, 'discovered' dinosaurs. He had come across the fossilized remains of a giant reptile, and he published his finds in 1824 in a report called Notice on the Megalosaurus or Great Fossil Lizard of Stonesfield. The term 'dinosaur' had not yet been coined, but it was the first published description of what eventually became the dinosaur. With this alone, Buckland could have left a lasting impression on history. But, instead, he has become well-known for his eccentricity: namely, his practice of zoophagy. Buckland was committed to eating every animal he could get his hands on. He ate crocodile, tiger, and even mole (which he found particularly distasteful). When he got wind of a rare animal's death, he would write to the zoo in which it had been kept and ask for a piece of the carcass to be sent to him. But the most disturbing example of Buckland's idiosyncratic behavior comes to us from contemporary Augustus Hare, who wrote:

“Talk of strange relics led to mention of the heart of a French King preserved at Nuneham in a silver casket. Dr. Buckland, whilst looking at it, exclaimed, ‘I have eaten many strange things, but have never eaten the heart of a king before,’ and, before anyone could hinder him, he had gobbled it up, and the precious relic was lost for ever.”

         That heart belonged to Louis XIV.

• THE STRATIGRAPHY IS A LIE! Archaeologists use stratigraphy as a method to provide relative dates for the material they excavate. Sites are formed in layers of deposition: new layers are deposited on top of older layers. So as the archaeologists digs into deeper and deeper layers, she encounters older and older material. The stratigraphy, or order of these layers, can give the archaeologist a basic idea of the order of events in history. Within stratigraphy, there are some methods for assigning more precise dates to a certain layer. One of these is called terminus post quem (TPQ), or 'limit after which.' This gives the earliest possible date for a layer. For example, if an archaeologist were to uncover a 1981 penny, she would know that the layer in question could not have been deposited earlier than 1981. You can't deposit a coin before it's made, right? Well, my friends, I have discovered this assumption to be utterly and completely false, because I have in my possession a 2011 coin! Archaeology is doomed. On a side note, the coin (a 50p piece) is part of a series commemorating the 2012 London Olympics. Mine has a shuttlecock on the back. Because when I think of the Olympics, I think 'badminton.' Behold:

TPQ = SOL. QED.

• Oh, get that, would you, Deirdre? This is less of an interesting fact, and more of an observation, but England--or, at least, Oxford--has the highest proportion of womanly-voiced men I have ever encountered! Think of Terry Jones' Catholic Mum in Monty Python's Meaning of Life. This is exactly what it sounds like. 
• Capitalism. During the English Civil War, Oxford briefly served as the Royalist capital of England when it housed the court of King Charles I after he was expelled from London in 1642. Its position up the River Thames made it a strategic place to relocate his administration. Yet, English monarchs were not the only ones to recognize Oxford's potential as a capital. It has been rumored that Hitler planned to make this medieval city the capital of his new kingdom. For that reason, Oxford was spared in Germany's attacks on Britain during WWII.

Well, if that isn't a random smattering of accumulated information, I don't know what is. In the next couple of weeks, I hope to take some trips around the country with my (limited) free time. When I do, I'll be sure to bring my camera and keep you all updated on my travels.

Jowett Walk

Until then, good night!
Alyce

'Tis the Season

Even though the Brits don't celebrate the marvelous holiday that is Thanksgiving, Black Friday still marks the beginning of the Christmas season here in Oxford. Yesterday evening, the whole of Broad Street was blocked off for Christmas Light Night. The street became a mini-fair, with tents selling trinkets and food, a concert stage, and small carnival rides for children. As part of the event, theatres and museums around town opened their doors after hours and hosted special events. The main attraction, as the name of the event would suggest, is the official lighting of the Oxford Christmas tree, which sits right on Broad Street (suspiciously close to where the three martyrs were burned, might I add).

I, of course, missed all of these festivities as I was too busy working on my applications for graduate school (and, to be honest, procrastinating on that very task). But in my nightly quest for food, I did manage to get out tonight and take a photo of the tree in all its glory.

The Oxford Christmas Tree

So, believe it or not, Christmas is upon us. It always surprises me how quickly these things seem to creep up on me. Before I know it, I'll be sitting around our tree early on Christmas morning, munching on orange danishes and unwrapping gifts. But before then, I need to make it through the last (!) week of Michaelmas Term, and survive four applications to grad school. I think I can, I think I can.

Speaking of, I should probably return to my scholarly duties. I hope everyone is doing well back home. Stay warm!

Alyce

The Alternative Tuck Shop, a Sonnet

With the season of graduate school applications upon me, I'm afraid I haven't had much time to dedicate to blogging. Nonetheless, I do not want to leave any of my dedicated followers hanging! So, for your pleasure, I have written a Shakespearean sonnet in honor of one of my favorite eateries: the Alternative Tuck Shop. Enjoy!

When hungry there’s no place I’d rather eat,

No other shop my cash I’d rather give,

Than that which proudly sits on Hol’well Street,

Not any Tuck Shop, it’s Alternative.

Falafel is the sandwich choice du jour,

Perhaps on ciabatta or baguette,

With hummus and tomato (to be sure),

My stomach’s needs will certainly be met!

I'll add a fizzy drink and a dessert,

(The baklava has always been my vice),

And friendly service (yes, they like to flirt).

All that for such a reasonable price!

I thank them, smile, and then I’m on my way,

This meal, undoubtedly, will make my day.

Remember, Remember the Fifth of November

Remember, remember the Fifth of November,

The Gunpowder Treason and Plot,

I know of no reason

Why the Gunpowder Treason

Should ever be forgot.

Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, 'twas his intent

To blow up the King and Parli'ment.

Three-score barrels of powder below

To prove old England's overthrow;

By God's providence he was catch'd

With a dark lantern and burning match.

Hulloa boys, Hulloa boys, let the bells ring.

Hulloa boys, hulloa boys, God save the King!

On the Fifth of November, in the year 1605, Sir Thomas Knyvet made his way to the cellars underneath Parliament where he was about to make a fateful discovery. Only days earlier, a Lord had received an anonymous letter warning him to stay away, that Parliament would receive a 'terrible blow.' When King James I got wind of this letter, he sent Knyvet to investigate. There, he found Guy Fawkes guarding 36 barrels of gunpowder. Clearly, he meant business.

Fawkes had been one of a small group of English Catholics who had plotted to blow up Parliament and assassinate the Protestant King James I, in hopes of installing his nine-year-old daughter Elizabeth as a Catholic monarch. The plot failed, and Fawkes paid for high treason with his life: he was hanged, drawn, and quartered. But most importantly, the King's life was saved by the divine providence of God. Ever since, England has been celebrating.

Every year on November 5th, towns across England celebrate Guy Fawkes Night with displays of fireworks and giant bonfires. One such celebration occurred here at Oxford's South Park, complete with a carnival (including rides, food stands, and karaoke).

Guy Fawkes Night Carnival

Guy Fawkes Night Carnival

Guy Fawkes Night Carnival

WEE!

I used to go on this ride with my sister all the time when I was a kid. EVERY TIME I would be the one to get squished. This time was no different.

After exploring some of the rides, we headed over to the food area where we could get a better view of the fireworks. The show was supposed to begin at 6:45 PM, but didn't get started until 7:10 or so. The wait was completely worth it, as it turned out to be one of the best firework shows I've ever seen. My camera has a setting for fireworks, so I tried to capture some of these moments.

Guy Fawkes Night Fireworks

Guy Fawkes Night Fireworks

Guy Fawkes Night Fireworks

Guy Fawkes Night Fireworks

The fireworks ended with a BANG (unlike Parliament), and the whole park erupted with applause. The show was truly spectacular; however, the most exciting event of the evening was yet to come.

The Wicker Man: Before

This giant wicker effigy stood over 10 meters tall, and was just dying to get torched! This photo is number 666 on my camera, by the way. Coincidence? I think not!

The Wicker Man: The Flame Begins

 The flame began at the effigy's shoulder and quickly consumed the whole body.

The Wicker Man: Fully Alight

The Wicker Man: A Demon

The Wicker Man and Bonfire

As you can see, as the flames enveloped the effigy, the wicker charred and it took on a wholly demonic appearance. It was both beautiful and terrifying. What a show!

Unfortunately, I had to leave soon after the bonfire was lit in order to get back to my work, but I had a marvelous time. Considering how fun the night was, I would highly recommend that the United States develop a few holidays to celebrate the failed assassinations of our nation's leaders. Richard Lawrence Night, anyone?

Good night.
Alyce

Happy Hallowe'en!

I guess I should say, "Happy November!" Can you believe November is already upon us? Not only that, but I am currently in Week 4 (out of 8!) of Michaelmas Term. Halfway through! Time flies, as they say.

But back to Hallowe'en. With grad school applications, finalizing my schedule for Christmas Vacation, and my weekly essay on archaeological theory, I had plenty to do this weekend. Even so, I wasn't about to let an Oxford Hallowe'en pass me by without at least a little celebration.

The Oxford Information Centre organizes many themed tours throughout the year, including Alice in Wonderland (Lewis Carroll was a student and teacher at the college of Christ Church), C.S. Lewis & J.R.R. Tolkien (close friends and teachers at Oxford), and, of course, Harry Potter (they filmed more than just the Ferret Tree here, you know). The tour du jour on Hallowe'en? "Magic, Murder, and Mayhem." Absolutely, yes.

It was a drizzly day, but not unbearable, so my friend Petra and I decided that this tour was a must. Our excellent guide was a man named Rob Walters, the author of Haunted Oxford, as well as a few other books of local interest. He is incredibly knowledgeable on all things Oxford--people, buildings, and ghosts alike--so we got a good dose of Lewis Carroll and Harry Potter trivia along with the expected murder and mayhem. Although I really enjoyed hearing all the stories he had to tell, for the purposes of this post I will stick to the ghost stories. And as I have other work I need to tend to, I'll limit myself to retelling one story from each of the three M's: magic, murder, and mayhem.

MAGIC
One cold, dark December night, in the year 1832, the Vice-President of Brasenose College, Reverend T.T. Churton, was walking down the alleyway behind the college when he spotted a dark, cloaked figure standing at one of the windows. It seemed as if the figure was trying to pull a student through the window. Churton knew this to be an impossible task, as iron bars and wire mesh covered all windows to prevent students from leaving the college through the alleyway.

Rob Walters at the Ghostly Window

But as he approached closer, he could hear the screams and see the gushing blood of the student as the figure pulled him through the wire mesh. Churton ran to the figure to put an end to the horror, but he could not touch him. A mysterious force kept him away. Unable to help the student, the Vice-President ran around to the front entrance of Brasenose and alerted the Porter to the situation. The two immediately ran to the student's room, and as they opened the door a throng of screaming, fearful students fled to the quad. Edward Trafford lay on the floor, his head marked by severe cuts from the wire mesh. He was dead.

The students in the room that night were part of a so-called Hellfire Club, and Trafford, the club's president, had been attempting to summon the Devil when, as the students recounted, blood suddenly burst from his head and he collapsed to the floor.

Churton was the only witness to the scene in the alleyway, but he believed until theend that he had seen the Devil. And if you look through today's records, you will see that Edward Trafford of Brasenose College did indeed die on that very night.

MURDER
This story is less ghostly, but does capture some the horrors that have taken place here at Oxford in years past.

After Mary I acceded the throne in 1553, she quickly restored Catholicism as the religion of England and left a bloody trail in the wake of her reforms. This bloody trail led straight to Oxford in 1555 with the execution of the Oxford Martyrs: Hugh Latimer, Anglican chaplain to King Edward VI; Nicholas Ridley, Bishop of Rochester; and Thomas Cranmer, the Archbishop of Canterbury. These three men were powerful in the Anglican  Church, and thus in direct opposition to Catholicism and the Queen. All three were tried for heresy, and on October 16, 1555, Hugh Latimer and Nicholas Ridley were burned at the stake. Cranmer was made to watch his fellow Anglicans die from a tower on the city wall. After seeing the horror of their demise, he issued a recantation of his Anglican beliefs, accepting the Pope as supreme and infallible. This recantation was deemed insufficient, so he wrote another. And another. And another. In all, he wrote five recantations before one was finally accepted. He was to give this recantation as a public address in the University Church.

On that fateful day, he took to the pulpit and began with a prayer. But instead of reciting his prepared remarks, he renounced all of his previous recantations, called the Pope "Christ's enemy," and declared that his sinful hand, which wrote and signed the recantation, would be punished by burning first. He cried, "Let me burn as Latimer and Ridley did!" The townsfolk responded, "So you will!" He was pulled from the church and brought to the very spot where the two before him were executed nearly six months earlier, and he was burned to his death.

Rob Walters where the Oxford Martyrs perished.

Today, the spot where the Oxford Martyrs were executed is marked by a cobblestone cross in the middle of Broad Street. Supposedly, some have seen phantom flames emerging from the stone marker. Ghostly or not, this spot continues to be a place of remembrance, and some will lay flowers on it to this day.

MAYHEM
Just as with the above story, the following tale may not be ghostly, but it is terrifying nonetheless. Historically, at Oxford (and other medieval institutions) there has been an intense rivalry between what is called the 'town,' or non-academic town residents, and the 'gown,' or academic members of the university (because we wear funny gowns, get it?). This rivalry would lead to heated altercations, usually beginning in the town pubs and from there spreading onto the streets. Perhaps 'altercation' isn't the appropriate word... As the saying goes, "There are historic battlefields on which less blood has been spilt than in the streets of Oxford."

On one such occasion in 1355, a riot between the town and the gown erupted at the Swyndlestock Tavern and quickly grew into a battle involving thousands of townspeople and students. Each side came equipped with various weapons, and at the end of the several-day conflict 63 students had perished. Oxford promptly banned students from visiting the town pubs.

Was a student murdered here? MAYBE!

The scariest part of that story is the glee with which our tour guide, a proud member of the 'town,' told it. I probably don't have anything to worry about, right?

Anyway, those are just a few examples of the stories I heard. Others involved a ghost driven by the guilt to the grave of his lover's husband (whom he murdered, of course), the spirit of William Archibald Spooner haunting the New College chapel by night, and the murder of the last wild boar in Oxford by means of Aristotle. Perhaps I will tell them one day, but I haven't the time now.

Now, I don't believe in ghosts, so I remain quite skeptical about some of these stories. However, as we stood along the so-called Dead Man's Walk, mere meters away from where a Royalist colonel had been (wrongfully) executed for treason, our guide mentioned a very interesting fact. He said that 10% of the British population believe they have had a "ghostly experience."

"Where have most of those experiences occurred?" He grinned. "Oxford."

The rain began to pick up and a chill settled over the air. As we continued on our tour, I thought to myself: If there is any place in the world that can convince me ghosts do exist, this is it.

An Autumn Shot along Rose Lane

Hope everyone had a spook-tacular weekend!
Alyce

The Ashmolean Museum

Hey folks! Sorry for not posting in a while, but I've been busy being a student and whatnot. Last weekend, however, I did get a chance to get out and explore the Ashmolean Museum, so I thought I'd share my adventures with all of you.

The Ashmolean Museum

The Ashmolean Museum of Art and Archaeology, as expertly summarized by Wikipedia contributors,

is the world's first university museum. Its first building was built in 1678–1683 to house the cabinet of curiosities Elias Ashmole gave Oxford University in 1677.

Back in the days of antiquarianism, wealthy men like Elias Ashmole would drop loads of money on beautiful and intriguing 'curiosities.' These collections could include objects of geological, historical, zoological,or archaeological interest--basically, anything that might cause someone to say, "Why! Isn't that simply marvelous?" Archaeologists since have become much more sophisticated than that. Now, we are primarily concerned with trash and broken pots.

I think this museum's approach to archaeology is evident in the name of the museum itself: the Ashmolean Museum of Art and Archaeology. Compare this to Harvard's Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology. There, curators plan exhibits and choose which objects go on display with the goal of teaching the visitor more about a particular culture. In the Ashmolean, objects seem to be chosen more for their aesthetic value, with a greater emphasis being placed on teaching the visitor about historical events and chronologies. Both approaches have their merits; but, since I'm used to the anthropological approach of museums in the States, I found the Ashmolean to be a bit sterile. At times, it felt very much like walking through an art gallery.

However, this is not to say that I didn't enjoy my visit. The museum has a huge collection filled with a wide range of truly wonderful objects: Egyptian shawabtis, brilliantly-colored Greek vessels, medieval jewelry from the British Isles, paleolithic weapons, stringed instruments from the Renaissance, Japanese woodblock prints, etc. The collection represented the Eastern Hemisphere quite well through different time periods and regions. The New World, unfortunately, was largely absent. Nonetheless, I felt like I came away having learned some new things about the past, and isn't that the point?

I took quite a few pictures throughout my visit, but I'll leave you with just a few--enough to give you a good idea of what the museum is like.

A funeral pall of King Henry VII.

An etymology of 'Oxford.'

The caption reads:

About 650: A ford for the passage of oxen across the River Thames is used by people moving between Anglo-Saxon kingdoms of Mercia and Wessex. It is from this local 'oxen-ford' that Oxford later derives its name. 

For comparative purposes, at this time Smoke-Imix-God K, the twelfth ruler of Copan and so-called "five katun" lord, reigned over the city.

New College made it into the Ashmolean's chronology of medieval England.

The caption reads:

1379: New College is founded by William of Wykeham, bishop of Winchester. New College and its members.

If you look closely, you can see that the image is a depiction of the front quad, facing the chapel (north). On the top, right-hand corner you can see the steps leading up to the Hall.

Skulls and Hand Axes

 Now we're talking!

English Guitars

Egyptian Canopic Jars

People's organs were in there.

Greek vessels representing mythic scenes.

None of the characters depicted on these vessels burst into gospel during my visit. Again, my Disney upbringing fills me with unrealistic expectations.

Oliver Cromwell's Death Mask

Oliver Cromwell, buried and dead. Buried and dead!

A Roman Statue of Augustus Caesar

This statue is painted as it would have appeared in antiquity. We have this very white, clean image in our minds of what Classical sculpture is supposed to look like, so at first this colorful rendition of Augustus seems pretty... comical. Really, I think its vibrancy is what makes it so powerful.

A wall-hanging of Powhatan, one of Ashmole's original 'curiosities.'

Naturally, I had to end with something American. Next stop on my museum tour will probably be the Pitt Rivers Museum of Anthropology and World Archaeology. I think that will probably suite my tastes a bit better. But for now, I'm off. Hasta pronto.
Alyce

New College Tower

Last Sunday, the New College MCR* Committee organized a tea & cakes event in the Cloisters for all the freshers. There were scones, spice cakes, éclairs, muffins, an assortment of fruit juices, cream, and jam. The spread was lovely, of course, but the main attraction of the event was the chance to get to go up the New College Tower.

*The MCR (Middle Common Room) essentially refers to New College's body of graduate students. I'll probably explain this more in a future post.

The New College Tower

Normally, the door to the tower is locked. From what I hear, this is to dissuade the overwhelmed scholar from "finding a permanent solution to a temporary problem," so to speak. So, the opportunity to catch a  glimpse of the beautiful city of Oxford from this vantage point is a rare one, and on a sunny day like Sunday I wasn't going to miss it.

To get to the top of the tower, you have to climb a narrow, old, stone, spiral staircase. As you climb higher, the steps get narrower, and I must admit I almost chickened out about three quarters of the way to the top. Luckily, I was pressured to continue.

The spiral steps, from the top of the tower.

 Terrifying, right? Okay, maybe only to me. Regardless, I conquered the steps and made it to the top alive.

A close-up of the turret at the top of the tower.

Once I emerged, I turned around to see that the stairwell is actually encapsulated in this here turret. (I'm not entirely sure if that's the correct word for what this thing is--feel free to correct me.) As you can see, the gargoyles live even here. A couple posts ago, I openly pondered what their purpose was, and my mom informed me that gargoyles were once used as water spouts. Here is the evidence: a metal spout is actually sticking out of the gargoyle on the left.

Okay, okay, enough about the turret. Below are some of the shots I got of New College and Oxford from the top of the tower. I hope you enjoy!

A view toward the northeast.

The quad between the New Buildings (left) and the Old Buildings (right).

The New College Chapel

The Cloisters and the Ferret Tree

A view to the southwest.

A view to the west.

The Radcliffe Camera, part of the Bodleian Library, between the stone walls of the tower.

The Chapel, through the stone walls of the tower.

A view of the east.

And there you have it. Until next time,
Alyce

Matriculation

Today was matriculation, a ceremony where Oxford freshers (i.e. new students, both undergraduate and graduate) officially become members of the university. I, of course, didn't think to bring my camera, but I will try to recreate these precious moments from memory as best I can.

New College sent out an e-mail early in the week telling us that the Matriculation Ceremony would begin at 2:45pm on Saturday, and that all freshers are to assemble at the foot of the Hall stairs promptly at 1:45pm where we would then receive instruction from the Dean of Arts. It also mentioned this little tidbit:

Gillman & Soame will be in College from 1pm on Saturday. The Freshers Group photograph is booked to be taken at 1pm, whilst Fresher Portrait photographs can be taken between 1.15pm and 2pm.

In typical Oxford fashion, the e-mail neglected to mention where exactly this would take place, but I heard a rumor that last year's picture was taken by the garden gate, so I figured I wander in that direction when the time came.

Matriculation is one of the events that requires the donning of sub-fusc, a very specific code of dress worn at certain Oxford ceremonies (also including examinations and graduation). Along with the traditional cap and gown, girls must wear a white blouse, a dark skirt or full-length trousers, black tights, black shoes, a black ribbon (worn around the neck like a tie), and a dark jacket if desired. For boys, a white bow tie replaces the black ribbon, and I assume that a skirt would be frowned upon.

After brunch this afternoon, I changed into my sub-fusc and headed over to the garden gate. The photography company had erected a set of metal bleachers on the lawn and a flock of wide-eyed freshers was already congregating, so I knew I was in the right place. Around 1 o'clock, the photographer asked us to line up by height, which inevitably divided the group by gender, and after about five minutes of rejiggering ourselves we started to file onto the bleachers. I ended up in the second row from the top. Finally, someone might be able to find me in a group photo! Boom, boom, boom, boom. He took four shots rather quickly, and then freed us to the portrait photographer camped out across the lawn. Being at the top of the bleachers suddenly became a disadvantage as a throng of freshers mobbed the photographer. It was already 1:25 at this point, so I decided to bag the portrait and head over to the Hall steps. Sorry, Mom and Dad.

PROMPTLY at 1:45pm, the freshers gathered at the base of the Hall steps where the Dean of Arts stood with an official-looking clipboard. He asked for silence, and proceeded to read each and every name of the New College freshers to be matriculated today. Once you heard your name, you were expected to answer with a resounding "YES!" or "PRESENT!" or "HERE!" or something similar. There was the inevitable mispronounced name and moment of cultural ignorance (including "Yi-Yun Jiang. Is Mr. Jiang here? Well, I guess it could be Miss Jiang... Either one?"), and a few people--GASP--weren't present. Those people will be punished by forking over twenty pounds to the university, a small price to pay for disrespecting tradition.

After this process was finished, the Dean of Arts told us that in about ten minutes he would lead us in a line (or in a flock, if we preferred) to the Examination Schools on High Street where the ceremony would take place. We then stood around in the drizzle doing nothing for ten minutes before being led to our destiny.

Once at the Examination Schools, we scaled a couple flights of stairs and entered a large room filled with paintings of important-looking people. We were then directed to form rows, which we did obediently. I stood in my row for a few minutes as more people filed in. A woman at the head of the room yelled for us to turn off our phones and put all of our cameras away (many others had actually remembered to bring their cameras, and had been documenting this experience). Suddenly, the rows dispersed and we were moved like cattle into an adjacent room, also filled with paintings, where we were told to stand in rows... again. More and more people filed in, and I was soon surrounded by sub-fusced freshers and was thereafter unable to see anything. The time was 2:35pm, and we then waited, standing in rows, for ten minutes before the ceremony began. 

When the time had arrived, the crowd was shushed. I'm sure something happened after the shushing, but I could not see anything. I could only hear the symphony of coughing that ensued. Soon, I saw hands raising their caps to one another, and the formalities began. The Dean of Arts stood, and said something in Latin to the effect of, "I present these students for matriculation." The Vice Chancellor then stood and replied, in Latin, "I now pronounce these students official members of the University of Oxford." Huzzah!

At that point, the Vice Chancellor took some time to tell us newly-matriculated members of the university the history of matriculation. Apparently, back in the day, matriculation used to involve a university-wide exam to ensure that the colleges had admitted only the best scholars. After informing us of this, he spent the next few minutes trying to convince us that the matriculation ceremony was still important. "It's what anthropologists and sociologists would call a 'rite of passage,'" he said. "It has been done by many Oxford students who have come before you, many who will come after you, and many who have coughed as much as you." He then offered us a few words of wisdom, cracked a few more jokes (much appreciated), and sent us on our way. The time was 2:53pm, eight minutes after the ceremony officially began.

I guess after the pomp and circumstance of Harvard's graduation, I was expecting a little more. At the same time, I was grateful not to be spending all day listening to speeches in Latin or taking an exam to prove my scholarly mettle. Sure, the process was at times a little tedious, but in the end it's always an honor to be a part of those antiquated traditions that unite you with a small community of people.

Have a great weekend!

Alyce

New College (with Photos!)

WARNING: This one is long, with lots of pictures!

Oxford is a unique place in many ways, including its collegiate system. The university is comprised of 38 semi-autonomous colleges, each with its own governing body, endowment, library, dining hall, accommodations, et cetera (not to mention its own character, history, and inter-college rivalries). Every student is affiliated with a college, and many are also housed in their college's accommodations. For undergraduates, most of their classes will be taught in college (and in fact undergraduates are admitted to the university through application to their colleges of choice). For graduates, the college serves as a social, rather than academic, center since classes are taught in their respective departments.

I am lucky to be a part of one of the oldest and most beautiful of the Oxford colleges: New College (website, Wikipedia). New College isn't new. At all. It was founded in 1379 by a man named William of Wykeham, Bishop of Winchester, and was originally established to train priests (i.e. to repopulate the priest population after the Black Death did a good number of them in). So, why the name? Well, our friend Billy wanted to dedicate his college to the Blessed Virgin Mary, but a college had already been founded in her honor (now known as Oriel College). Thus, it was named the New College of St. Mary the Virgin, or "New College" for short.

The entrance to the college from Holywell Street.

New College sits on Holywell Street, which used to mark the northern border of the town of Oxford.

The entrance to New College.

A view of the Old Buildings as you enter New College.

A closer view of the Old Buildings (on the right) and the Old City Wall (in front).

The Old Buildings constituted the original New College quad (which I'll discuss a bit later), and I believe they were constructed at the time of New College's founding, either in the late 14th or early 15th century. In front of the Old Buildings, you can see the Old City Wall, which used to surround the town of Oxford.

A view of the New Buildings from the Old Buildings.

A view of the New Buildings from the Old Buildings.

The New Buildings were built in the 19th century and now serve primarily as accommodations for undergraduates. The mail room, some lecture rooms, and I believe some offices also call the New Buildings their home.

Entrance to the Front Quad through the Old Buildings.

A... thing in the entranceway to the Front Quad.

A view of the Front Quad from the NE corner, looking toward the Warden's lodgings.

A view of the Front Quad from the SE corner, looking toward the Chapel.  

A view of the Front Quad from the SW corner, looking toward the Hall.

The Front Quad of New College is apparently the first quad that had all the facilities necessary for student life in one place: a chapel, a dining hall, student accommodations (which are now offices), and the Warden's lodgings. The current Warden of New College, Sir Curtis Price, told me that his lodgings are the oldest continuously-occupied lodgings in England. Every single Warden has lived in that room since the founding of New College.

A close-up of the New College sundial.

The New College sundial was commissioned in 1999 and built in the year 2000, which is represented at the top by the Roman numerals MM. On the bottom of the sundial is the 'reflection' of MM, WW, which stands for William of Wykeham. You can watch a live stream of the sundial, including directions for how to read it accurately, here.

The gargoyles of New College.

Dozens of gargoyles, each with its own personality, surround New College's Front Quad on the tops of its buildings. One of my projects this year will be to learn more about their purpose, and if each one has its own significance.

PLEASE KEEP OFF THE GRASS

As is common in other Oxford colleges, the lawns of New College are kept in immaculate condition. It's very difficult to see grass like that and NOT do a cartwheel in it.

A view of the New College Hall, looking toward the high table.

A view of New College Hall, looking toward the entrance.

The New College Hall is elegant, as you might expect, and reminds me quite a bit of Dunster's dining hall. The long tables, the dark wood, even the paintings of past wardens (rather than house masters) hung on the walls.

William of Wykeham

The painting of William of Wykeham hangs front and center, right above the high table reserved for fellows.

Another thing, found in the entrance to the Chapel and the Cloisters.

The Ante-Chapel

The Ante-Chapel

The Ante-Chapel (or, more simply, the entrance to the Chapel) is beautiful in and of itself. The room is filled with monuments to various members of New College's past (including a plaque dedicated to those of New College who perished in WWI), and has some pretty remarkable stained glass.

The Chapel, from the entrance.

Close-up of the front of the Chapel.

Detail of the pews.

The Chapel, looking toward the entrance and the massive organ.

This stunning chapel is the home to the world-famous New College Choir, a boys choir founded by William of Wykeham in conjunction with New College. According to their website,

[William of Wykeham] provided for sixteen choristers and a dozen clerks to sing the daily office in his magnificent mediaeval chapel.

Thus, the choir has always been an integral part of college life since its inception. Even today, the young choristers are trained in the New College School right across the street, and every once in a while you'll see them running around. ADORABLE!

View of the Cloisters from the Chapel entrance.

A view of the Cloisters, looking toward the Chapel.

A passageway alongside the Cloisters.

The Cloisters is a grassy quad adjacent to the Chapel, and has made its own impact on popular culture.

The Cloisters Tower

This tower appeared in BBC2's Climbing Great Buildings where host and architectural historian Dr. Jonathan Foyle scaled the building. But more importantly...

The Ferret Tree

I went on a tour of New College during my first week here, and as soon as we entered the Cloisters the guide said, "This tree may seem familiar." Well, to me it didn't, but I'm also a disgrace to my generation. This tree, dubbed the "Ferret Tree" by my sister, appears in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Why is it called the Ferret Tree? Observe:

The Cloisters Tree: Where Draco Malfoy turns into a ferret.

The gate at the entrance to the New College gardens.

To the east of the Front Quad are the New College gardens, marked by an ornate gate. At the top of the gate is the New College (and William of Wykeham's) coat of arms, and the motto, "Manners Makyth Man."

A view of the Mound.

It's a bit difficult to see in the above picture, but at the center of the gardens is a giant mound, covered in trees, with one set of stairs leading to the top. Although some say it's a burial mound, the most likely explanation is that it's a bunch of excess dirt from when the ground New College now sits on was being leveled. I hear that if you climb to the top of the mound and clap in the right spot, the mound will squeak back at you. I would have tried it, but there were a lot of tourists roaming around and 'the public' is not allowed on the mound. I didn't want to start a trend.

The Old City Wall and accompanying herbaceous border.

The Old City Wall, which once was the northern border of the town of Oxford, now marks the edge of the New College gardens. When William of Wykeham acquired the land that butted up against this wall for his college, part of the deal with the city was that he would be responsible for the upkeep of the wall. To this day, the mayor of Oxford will walk along the wall once every three years to make sure it's being cared for.

My tour guide told the group that the herbaceous border running alongside the Old City Wall is the longest herbaceous border in the country (or something along those lines). I just looked that up, and that was a lie. It's not even the longest herbaceous border in Oxford. That title belongs to the one at Rhodes House, which is 200 yards away.

A view of New College from the gardens.

A shot of the gardens.

The Weston Buildings

New College is a fantastically wonderful place, but I, unfortunately, do not live on it's 14th-century grounds. I live in its graduate accommodations, the Weston Buildings, which is a couple blocks away. These buildings were built over ten years ago, and the rooms are quite lovely. At some point I will post some pictures of my room for all to see, but that will have wait until it's clean (don't hold your breath).

That's it for the New College tour. I hope all is well back in the States!
Alyce