Just Another Saturday In Oxford!

Today Will and I participated in a hugely popular English tradition (and no, I'm not talking about colonization. Or Marmite. Bleck!). St. Ebbes church was hosting a country walk this Saturday morning and having heard much about the English love of countryside excursions Will and I decided to lace up our hiking boots and see what this walking business was all about. Actually, I laced up my tennis shoes. Apparently it's a good idea to break hiking boots in before one goes for a 7 mile trek along the Thames. Who knew? Will did, and since I hadn't used them yet he thought it might be safer to go with my tennis shoes instead. The only bad thing about that plan was that my tennis shoes are not water proof and the English countryside is rather muddy. My poor shoes will never look the same. Will's feet, on the other hand, were happy and dry inside his boots.

We met up with 7 other church members in City Centre and took a short bus ride out to Farmoor, where we "alighted" and set out on the Thames river path. My city-raised mind had envisioned some kind of gravel path winding through old farm houses, with maybe a few fields thrown in here and there. To my surprise (and delight!) we spent nearly the entire trip following the river through pastures filled with fluffy sheep, woolly cows, flocks of geese, and the occasional pheasant. The scenery was breath-taking. The first 2 or 3 miles were nothing but green hills and farm animals and autumn-colored trees. It was so quiet and so peaceful...

Every now and then we would cross paths with a solitary fisherman sitting on the riverbank or a couple out on their Saturday morning walk with their faithful German Shepherd/Lab/Collie. Have I mentioned how badly I want a dog?? Yes, yes, I know. Super impractical. But a girl can dream.

The river was also populated with whimsical house boats. They were painted all kinds of bright colors and had names like "Utopia" and "Sleepy Hollow." Will and I briefly tossed around the idea of trying to live on a house boat, but then decided that we'd be too claustrophobic. Sure they are cute, but talk about tiny! However, I have heard that you can rent them for holiday... Christmas, anyone?

We eventually cleared the farmland and made our way onto a more solid path. Here the foot traffic increased, as did the water traffic. Children who looked no older than 10 or 11 were out on the river getting their morning crew practice in. And then there were these guys.

Pretty sure the smoke stack was just for looks, but don't they look incredible? I love the Union Jack fluttering behind them.

And just in case you thought I'd manage to leave out any fall tree pictures... think again! I just can't get enough of them. And you are stuck with me. :)

For lunch we stopped at The Perch--a gorgeous pub/restaurant tucked in the middle of all of these glorious trees. Lewis Carroll gave his first reading of "Alice in Wonderland" here, and you can see the theme all around in the tea cups perched on the stone walls and the Mad Hatter peeking out from the plants. I wish I had taken more pictures but after 7 miles I was hungry and just wanted to eat my goat cheese/tomato/ham crepe and sip on the mulled wine that Will and I split. Side note: how have I not tried mulled wine before?? It is delicious!

The last leg of our journey led us over this charming little bridge and onto Oxford's Common Lands.

Back in the old days the Common Lands were designated for the local peasants (too poor to own any land themselves) to use for their flocks and herds. The tradition is kept up today... horses and all!

So now you have seen what has become our new favorite Oxford pastime thus far! If the weather continues to be this beautiful I'm hoping to break in those new hiking boots and head out across the Common Lands in search of more horsies and fluffy sheep sometime next week.

I will be uploading these and many many more pictures onto Facebook soon, but I wanted to give you all a first look at our walking adventures. :)

Hello, New Friend.

Let me preface this by saying that I'm a Christmas girl. Or a Christmas Elf, as my father-in-law has nicknamed me. I generally like to pretend that there is no such thing as Halloween or Thanksgiving (much to the chagrin of my fall-loving husband) and start playing Christmas music as soon as the weather drops to the 70s. Or as soon as Will leaves the house in September. Whichever comes first. This October is different. This October myself, my husband, and three ridiculously over-stuffed suitcases crossed the Atlantic and set up shop in Oxford, England, also known as "The Land of the Four Seasons." This October I found that I am madly in love with fall. The real fall. None of this wimpy South faux fall where the thought of owning a pair of wool socks seems ludicrous. Who knew that Real Fall had such glorious breezes, such brilliantly colored trees, such comfy sweaters, and such fabulous boots? Not this Texas girl! I am discovering October for the first time. We might just become besties. Don't tell December.

Why I am in love...

The leaves. Oh the leaves.

The glorious color red. It's everywhere.

Seriously. Everywhere. The Brits love their vines.

Deliciously Golden.

The cold-induced cuddling.

Beautiful sunny days. And more cuddling!

A visit from Dad. October is the best.

Tweed coats.

Oh Fall, my new friend. Let's hug.

Short and Sweet

I'm sorry to have left you hanging for so long. It's not you, it's me. Promise.

We have been super busy these last few days with our very first visitor (Yay, Dad!) and getting to know some of our neighbors. Small world side note--our neighbor went to seminary with Chris Stevens. And he and his wife have two adorable kiddos named Jackson and Ella. For those of you who know my obsession with the name Ella that is a pretty big deal. Now where was I....

Company! My dear old Dad (not that you're old, Ted) had a business trip in France and extended his travels home by staying in Oxford for 4 nights! We had a blast exploring old churches, poking around the different colleges, buying books at Blackwells, eating $15 worth of fudge...

Gosh, Dad, I miss you already! Sell the house, pack up the wife and move here! Just a thought.

In other news, I should be getting my new camera cable in the mail by the end of the week. Prepare yourselves for pictures, pictures and more pictures of really old buildings! And the occasional tree. They grow so nice here.

This is a short entry, but I will make up for it with a photo tease. All credit goes to Dad and his handy Blackberry...

Our lawn, as seen from our pseudo balcony

College in England...

High Street, seen from St. Mary the Virgin Tower.

In Sickness and In Health. But Mostly in Sickness...

In case you thought that the lack of blog updates meant that Will and I were too busy adventuring in Europe to regale you with more Oxford stories, think again. We've been sick. And how.

It all started with my brilliant idea to go running last Friday. Will had a meeting, the weather was absolutely gorgeous, and I had way too much energy to just walk. I was so excited to go for my first run in England (!) that I wildly underestimated my need for warm running clothes. Even with Alicia and Beyonce encouraging me to "work it, baby, work it out", 15 minutes later I was frozen and so done. My ears were numb, my throat ached and my fingers had shrunk about 2 ring sizes. I retreated back to the warmth of our teeny tiny apartment... but apparently not fast enough. By Saturday evening my nose had turned into a faucet, my sinus cavities were impenetrable, my throat itched and ached, and my cough kept poor Will up all night long. Sunday was worse--it was Communion Sunday and although I wiped and re-wiped I feel the need to apologize to those who had to share the Communion chalice with me. After several miserable days and nights, I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. The best part was that Will's impressive immune system seemed to be holding strong against my snuggly sick germs. Until Wednesday.

Poor Willis came home from a meeting Wednesday afternoon looking a bit under the weather. By Thursday he was hot to the touch and absolutely miserable. Now, for those of you married to stalwart germ-resisting men you know the signs and stages of what I like to call rugged-husband-illness.

Stage one: denial.

"Love, are you feeling ok?" "I'm fine...just a little congested from walking in the cold." "Do you need medicine?" "No."

Stage two: deathbed.

"Will, your forehead is burning up, you can't breathe and you are now on the same vocal register as Johnny Cash. Will you please take medicine now?"

Will groans. I take his near-unconscious state as a yes.

Stage three: miraculous recovery. It baffles me every time.

We are fortunately now in stage three. Will even went into town today to find a book he needed at the library. I am a few lingering sniffles and sneezes away from health, but we are on the road to recovery. And just in time! Dad comes to visit in 6 days!

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In other news, Will has his matriculation ceremony tomorrow. I promise to take lots of pictures of him in his dress robes and EVENTUALLY post them here! (The pressure is on, Dad. You must find that cord!)

As promised, here is our new address:

Flat #28 Summertown House

369 Banbury Road

Oxford

OX2 7RB

All fan mail is warmly welcomed. :) I hope you all have a wonderful weekend!

On My Own

It was bound to happen.

Will had to go to school or class or to study or whatever Maths DPhil students do here. Actually, I think his plan today was to study at the Bodleian Library. Harry Potter, anyone?

And I have been left to my own devices. So what do I do to entertain myself until I find more structure and balance in my life (aka a JOB!)? I'm so glad you asked. So far I have...

Watched a documentary on polygamy. Crazy Mormons! How I stumbled upon this documentary on youtube I'm not quite sure.... but I think I blame Oprah. Yes, I definitely blame Oprah! She had a special on polygamy and it popped up on the Youtube homepage. Yikes.

Made yummy strawberry yogurt from the icky plain yogurt Will brought home the other day by mixing it with strawberry jam.

Contemplated walking into town to do my errands.

Felt lazy and took the bus into town instead. Justified it by reminding myself that I walked (and ran! a little!) lots yesterday, plus I didn't want to carry heavy bags back to the apartment for over 2 miles.

Resigned myself to finally purchasing those boring white (but incredibly cheap!) dishes at Boswell & Co. Turns out people here have a thing for neutrals. And while I love the classy black and white combo as much as the next gal, I miss having punches of bright color in my life, i.e. my big blue plate or my bright yellow bedding.

Bought this sweet poster for my seester and mailed it her way. Don't you just love British propoganda? I know I do!

Searched and failed to find the connecting cable for my digital camera. The electronics stores I visited today told me that I'd have to special order it. Dad, I have a mission for you... :)

And now I am postponing hand washing all our dishes, deep cleaning the apartment, borrowing a vacuum cleaner from the property manager and hauling it upstairs, and lugging our very heavy load of laundry down 2 flights of stairs, across a long parking lot and over to the laundry facility by updating my blog instead! You're welcome.

Too Good To Be True

Warning: I am about to channel my early childhood weirdness and reference a musical. For those of you who haven't picked up on my choreographed-dancing-and-show-tune love affair....we must not have met yet!

There is this magical scene in Mary Poppins (who am I kidding--like there's just ONE magical scene??) where Mary Poppins, Jane and Michael Banks, and Bert-the-chimney-sweep jump straight into a sidewalk chalk drawing and voila! Gray, dreary, rainy London is no more! They are suddenly in a world of brilliant flowers, green rolling hills and dancing penguins.

Good news, folks. We had that moment today. Minus the dancing penguins.

Once again, all credit must go to the now-famous Peppy. She came to lunch yesterday (And we had no food or dishware. Another story for another time.) and told us of a local park not far down the road from our new flat. This afternoon was brilliantly sunny and warm so Will and I set out to find Cutteslowe Park. You must keep in mind that when I hear the word "park" I think local neighborhood swing set and sports fields. Even after living near Audubon for over a year, I still had no mental framework for what we found. We wound our way through neighborhoods, crossed over a busier street on a pedestrian bridge and suddenly found ourselves in an oasis of green. Oh the green.

We found our way onto the dirt path that wound itself around the park. It had the conventional park-y things (basketball goals, playgrounds, mums chasing after toddlers babbling in British accents, etc), but it also had great rolling hills of vividly green grass that stretched on for acres. The trees surrounding the fields were all turning to brilliant golds and reds and oranges. Several locals were out on the expanse throwing balls to their labs. The path led us into old farm land now owned by the park. Trails had been cut through the tall grass and wild flowers, and every now and then a bunny ran across our path. We were in awe of all the beauty we had stumbled across... and then the most cheesy thing happened.

All the birds started singing. I kid you not.

Mr. Walt Disney couldn't have scripted these birds better himself. These birds put the sewing/cleaning/singing Cinderella birds to shame (and if you are unaware of my reference you too should be ashamed!). How did we respond to such a joyful outburst?

We laughed. We laughed because it was too overwhelmingly gorgeous to actually be real. We laughed because it was all so ludicrously beautiful. We laughed because we never imagined ourselves living in a place like this. The only possible thing this practically animated park was missing, of course, were the penguins.

Home Is Where The Heart Is....

...And my heart just so happens to be located at Oxford University's Summertown Flats! And you thought I was going to say something sappy about my husband, didn't you? Ha!

Ok fine. I love him lots and will go with him anywhere. Happy now? :)

But as I was saying! We are (almost) official tenants of number 28 Summertown Flats. The rooms are itty-bitty, in true British fashion, but we are ecstatic to finally be settling somewhere. We sign all of the official paperwork tomorrow and then us and our ridiculously stuffed suitcases (thanks, Anne-Elise!) will finally be home.

Will I look back on our time of homelessness with fondness? Probably not. Well, maybe a little. We did learn something after all. We learned that not all Brits are unfriendly (my grumpy, jet lagged first impression). The Christians here are just as warm and inviting as Aunt Bee (and their accents are far superior). We learned that the Lord truly does know the number of hairs on our heads (and Will's face) and is lovingly guiding, caring for and supporting us through all types of situations--comfortable and uncomfortable. We also learned why Americans are fat--gigantic portions and not walking 8 miles a day. 3 of those were uphill. No joke. But I digress...

Once I have our official mailing address I will post it here. And if you send us something it will arrive in our little silver mail slot in our little British door. Also, I seem to have misplaced (or left behind) the cord that connects the camera to the laptop so once I locate that important piece of technology I will upload all of our pictures. Perhaps this is just a ploy to keep you all interested in reading...or it could just be my inability to stay on top of my life. Will we ever know? I surely won't tell.

Hello, Everyone!

It took 3 plane rides, 5 pieces of luggage, 1 desperate airport sprint, 4 tearful phone calls, 2 panicked phone calls, 27 crazy looks from more experienced travelers, 1 body scan, 36 hours of consciousness, 1 1/2 awful movies, 2 Michael Buble tunes (the Irish airlines are fans), and only 3 or 4 mental breakdowns from yours truly...but we made it! The first part of our mission (which I have fondly entitled "Operation: Get-To-Oxford-Without-Losing-Our-Minds") has been accomplished. Part Two (also known as "Operation: End-The-Homelessness") is still a work in progress. But then again, aren't we all?

As much as I'd like to divulge all of the gritty travel details I'm afraid you will have to wait. We are currently staying with "Peppy"--a fantastic English woman whose heart is as wonderfully splendid as her British adjectives (my favorite thus far was the use of "blobgasted", as in, "you know I was perfectly blobgasted when I heard the news!")--and Peppy's charming cottage is without the Internet. She "doesn't bother with all of those dreadful computers" so I am limited to short and sweet visits to the local Starbucks and their expensive wifi. Once we do find a place I promise more details. And pictures. Lots of pictures.

Love to you all,

Caitlin