I keep getting this little ad when I log into Facebook. Because I’m in the Oxford student network, it shows a pair of sandals and reads “BE GONE FROM OXFORD!”, advertising weekend flights and getaways from £99. The tough thing is, I don’t want to be gone from Oxford, and I feel like it’s taunting me with its glib little sandals.
This is all by way of addressing Justine’s question about study abroad, which, because she’s a “dorky English major-to-be” (read: a bright, interesting, and generally lovely person), I’m going to field in this post.
I think it’s a testament to the quality of that university that I’ve been increasingly bothered over the last few days, knowing my Bod Card (ID, library, everything-else card at Oxford) was nearing its expiration date. That’s today, and I may as well deal with this post before the nostalgia reaches crippling levels.
So, Justine. A few things.
If you’re going to be studying abroad through William and Mary’s program, they’ll put you in Hertford College (IMPORTANT: pronounced “Hartford,” not “Hurtford.” See also “Derbyshire,” which is pronounded “Darbyshire”). It’s a wonderful college. Not, I would say, necessarily one of the poshest, but the people there will really want to get to know you. You’ll make friends. This was one of my biggest anxieties as I was preparing for study abroad. Also (they’ll pound this home if you get within 500 yards of the Global Education Office), it’s in a great location. Right across from the Bodleian, in the best part of the old city. You’ll get spoiled silly by the views along the walk to college each day.
If for some reason you’d like to apply to be a visiting student at a college other than Hertford, you can do that through the University as well. See this handy website for more information. I’ve known people who have been at Magdalen College (alma mater of Oscar Wilde and others) and loved it. Let me know if you’d like to talk to one of those lovely people about Magdalen, and I’ll see about it.
College pride is intense. Your college will determine most of the friends you make, and you won’t feel the same way about having “Oxford pride” for famous people who did not study at your college. Hertford is no slouch in this department: John Donne and Evelyn Waugh both graced its halls; you can tell because this portrait of Donne hangs in the dining hall, and you’ll see this one in–you guessed it–the Waugh Room, home of über-classy MCR cocktail nights. My basic opinion, though, is that Oxford is Oxford, and you’ll probably love it wherever you end up.
It’s expensive. Expect to fork over a lot of cash for a short term (~10 weeks). Also, expect to hate your UK and EU friends when they complain about the £3,000-£4000 they have to pay in tuition per annum. (Oxford and Cambridge used to be completely free for Brits. They’re not anymore, but they’re still a heck of a lot cheaper than going there as an American. Don’t expect any sympathy about this—your friends, quite literally, don’t know the value of a dollar. It’s a popular joke in Oxford that whenever a huge suitcase of American money is shown on television, someone shouts, “Isn’t that worth about £15?” It’s considerably less amusing for us.)
But: it is worth it. Oxford is every bit as wonderful as you think it’ll be.
So, on to some of that practical information you’ve been yearning for.
Applying:
–You must be a Junior or Senior, and the program equates to W&M’s spring semester. Be aware, though, that Trinity Term runs from mid-April to the end of June, which will leave you with a giant chunk of free time before term (December through about April 10) and an odd little slice of summer (what I’m going through right now). The Oxford year starts in October, so it’s a natural time for them to finish, but really odd for us. I stayed in W’burg for the giant chunk of time before term, working on my Monroe project and keeping up my Greek, but the most popular use of the time is either a.) lazing around (wise in light of the Oxford workload) or b.) working (wise in light of the weak dollar, which is being kicked around like the scrawny kid in fourth grade at the moment).
–According to the Reves Center website, the application is due October 7 of the academic year you wish to go abroad. (Do continue to check it, though, as it may be slightly different for this year.) To the best of my recollection, you have to submit a couple of teacher recommendations, a Banner transcript, and some short essays, things like: “Why do you wish to go abroad?”, “What do you expect to gain from the experience?”, “What adjustments do you anticipate having to make while living abroad?”, and “What activities are you currently involved in on campus?”.
–Also, the Charles Center stipulates that you must have a 3.3 GPA and “excellent writing skills.” The latter criterion isn’t there just because it sounds nice—you’ll do a lot of writing at Oxford. More writing than you have ever done in your life. Possibly more writing than anyone has ever done. (Neomodernist ventures into slight exaggeration.) To that end, pick recommenders who know your writing well, and mention to whomever you choose that they should emphasize your writing skills when they come to write a recommendation for you.
Courses:
–At some point, they’ll also want you to make up a list of possible courses. Eventually, they’ll pick three of them to give you, and you’ll hopefully get 5 W&M credits per course. (More on that later, as I haven’t actually transferred my credits yet.) Normally, Oxford students take a very set curriculum within their subject. For us, however, Hertford is very accommodating, and they will dig up a tutor to do pretty much whatever you’d like. Turorials are generally one-on-one, a very expensive system to maintain, which is why pretty much everywhere else in the world (except Cambridge) has given it up.
–You have three tutorials (courses), and each of them will meet six times during the term. Mine were on Nabokov, Sophocles, and the Bloomsbury Group. It’s staggered, so that you have less work at the beginning and end and more work in the middle. For two weeks right in the middle, you’ll have all three tutorials at the same time. The reason you should care about this is that generally you have to produce an essay for every meeting with your tutor, something along the lines of 2,000 words or 6-7 doublespaced pages. Hertford eases this up a bit for us: we’re only required to produce five essays for each of the tutorials, not six. So, if you plan carefully, you can avoid ever having three essays due at once. Most Oxford students, to the best of my knowledge, have 12 tutorial meetings per term, so they’re not going soft on us by asking only 15 essays. When I heard about the amount of work, I was terrified, but you can make it manageable. (See below in “Scheduling.”)
–DON’T pick GER courses or science courses to do while you’re there. The latter aren’t allowed, and the former, in addition to being difficult to get, are a complete waste of the Oxford system. It’s simply not designed for survey courses. DO propose that course on the Holy Sonnets, gothic fiction, or Machiavelli that you wish were offered at W&M. A good guideline is to pick things that would make good independent study courses at W&M, since that’s basically what you’ll be doing with your tutor.
(EDIT: As my fellow Hertford alum and Neuroscience student Jake Reeder has rightly pointed out, you can certainly do science courses, so long as they’re more conceptual or discussion-based. In short, propose “The Ethics of Medicine” and not “Electronics lab.”)
–Dr. Talbot Taylor of the W&M English department, himself an Oxford alumnus, is the person who coordinates academics, and he’s a great resource for determining whether your course selections make sense for the tutorial system. Look him up if you’re having doubts.
–They’re “tutors,” not “professors,” those people who teach you. This is tough to master. Trickier still: they’ll often expect you to call them by their first names. I was especially thrown by this, since I’m one of those people who relies upon “Professor” as a catch-all term of address for any university faculty member. At Oxford, however, “Professor” has quite a specific meaning that doesn’t correspond to our use of the term. Some of your tutors may be D. Phil. students, but don’t be concerned about this: they’re almost alarmingly sharp and wise, and they’ll expect at least as much from you as a full professor would.
– Which is a lot. You will be asked to produce an essay for your tutorial, which you will either turn in ahead of time (generally the day before), or bring to the tutorial to read aloud, with your tutor stopping you at various points to discuss what you’ve said. The latter approach is traditional, but many tutors (all mine at Oxford) now prefer to just hand the paper back, with comments—though generally no grade, a tough convention for this Neomodernist to get used to. When you’re discussing your essay—often the bulk of the tutorial—they will probably deal very specifically with the points in your argument, rather than what they “liked” or “disliked” about what you said (the general drift of most of my professors’ comments in the U.S.).
–Because of this, it’s VERY IMPORTANT that your essay makes a strong, argumentative point. Oxford tutors are wary of American students because they fear we’ll turn in some sort of “summary” of our reading list rather than a strong, convincing argument. Therefore, don’t wander off the point in your essays, and jog your memory as to all that information on thesis statements and topic sentences that you’ve been absorbing since the sixth grade. It’ll really benefit your work at Oxford.
–About your weekly reading list: it may be some 20-book monstrosity. You’re not expected to do all of it. This is an accepted fact, not the solace of slackers. It’s more about reading what you can and using it effectively than reading everything assigned. Dr. Josephine Reynell, the lovely Tutor for Visiting Students, will tell you to strictly limit the time you spend reading, and she’s right. Pick a time to stop reading which will leave you time to write and a couple of hours of “thinking time” in between, and you’re set. This isn’t half-bad advice for American essays, either, in my opinion.
–Expect your tutor to dig in, play devil’s advocate, attack your ideas, and offer praise only sparingly. You won’t be told you’re brilliant as often as you are in America. Don’t be intimidated by this, and do dig in yourself, if you have conviction in what you said. Your Oxford tutors are really trying to teach you to argue well, so don’t be afraid to argue with them. It’s not necessary for you to nod and smile to everything they say. Tutorials are bracing. You may well experience a rush of adrenaline, and/or the feeling of sitting in the interrogation chair. But most of your tutors will like you and have regard for your abilities. They’ll just hide it well. (It all sounds a bit scary, but you’ll learn to love tutorials. Promise.)
Other Random and Assorted Stuff, Or: Oxford A to Zed
Alcohol: It’s a fact of life in Oxford. If you think you’ve seen people drink in Williamsburg, prepare for a surprise. Oxford students will, on the whole, do damn near anything for free booze (or cheap booze, or, heck, just run-of-the-mill expensive booze). This effect is so legendary that my thesis adviser in W&M has decided, since I’ve returned to the U.S. from Oxford, that I cannot function at any kind of meeting without some type of alcohol on hand. Now, Neomodernist, who doesn’t really drink, found this all pretty startling, but the truth is that the pubs are quite lovely in their own way, and it’s obligatory that you visit them sometimes, even if you only sit with your friends and drink a £2 Coke. Some of our favorites were the Turf (especially good if you want to sit outside, and they make a good curry as well), the Bear (tiny, but the inside is covered with cases of people’s old school ties; also, it’s reputed to be the oldest pub in Oxford, dating to the 13th century), the King’s Arms (or “KA”—noisy, but nice, especially if you can get one of the big wood tables), the Eagle and Child (frequented once upon a time by Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, and co.—worth a visit if you’re into them, as I suspect you are, Justine—correct me if I’m wrong. Quite a nice pub in its own right, though), the Royal Oak (farther north in Oxford, lovely and with lots of board games you can use while you’re sitting there), and the Isis Tavern (way the crap down the river, but a pretty walk and well worth it).
Buses: There are a million of them, they’re terrifying, and they appear to be on the wrong side of the road. You know the crazy bus in the Harry Potter movies? Oxford buses drive a lot like that. There’s no parking at all in the centre of Oxford, it being basically a medieval city, so people tend to park their cars in giant lots just on the outskirts, and ride the buses in. Don’t walk out in front of them. I don’t think they stop. Also, there are few walk signals, so do look carefully.
Currency: Bring some. Because of the dollar’s recent slump (currently two of ‘em to a Pound, 1.5 to the Euro), many things cost twice as much. Paperback books are murder, a can of soda costs nearly $1.50, and the price of petrol, even after America’s four-dollar gallon, will make you laugh. Be aware that your bank may well charge you a percentage of every transaction you make with your debit card, so it’s to your advantage to get cash from the ATM. Some banks have agreements with certain foreign banks (mine, for example, has this arrangement with Barclay’s bank) such that if you use that bank’s ATMs abroad, you won’t have to pay a fee. The main thing to do here is to check with your bank before you leave about what kind of services they can offer you to cope with the exchange rate. It’s no fun paying for things in Europe, but the expenses of travel, I found, were more than justified by my experiences. Also, unless you’re a champion at wrangling with the bureaucratic channels, you won’t be able to work while you’re abroad. This can become dire. Students have been known to offer their bodies to drug and vaccination trials for cash.
Danger: There’s more than in Williamsburg. But on to less blatantly obvious statements—it’s a city of well over 100,000. It’s easy to be caught in shadowy little lanes after dark, since those are most of what’s in Oxford, and high alcohol consumption—yours or other people’s—doesn’t contribute to your safety. It’s more that there are a lot of menacing people around than that you’ll be in physical danger, but if you’re a girl walking home at night, do try to walk with someone. Drunk men may try to grab at you in the street, or say lewd, insulting things to you—Neomodernist knew this to happen even when surrounded by four or five male friends—but that’s not really different from anywhere in Europe, or large cities in the U.S., for that matter. There are also quite a lot of beggars, some of whom will pester you for money quite aggressively while standing, or even following you—not just sitting on the sidewalk, as most other beggars in my experience have. While they’re not necessarily dangerous, per se, they’re an unsavory fact of life in Oxford, and they’re some of the people who will bother you as you walk home at night.
Entertainment: People say there’s nothing to do in Oxford except drink, and while the devotion of students to that pastime would appear to lend credence to this theory, it’s not actually true. There are good films to be seen, especially at the Ultimate Picture Palace, a lovable one-room dump that looks like a garage and smells like an attic; it’s a good place to see indie and foreign films. I’d also recommend joining the Magdalen College Film Society. Their term membership is a steal at £10, for which you can see as many of their films as you like. They’re shown in the Magdalen Auditorium on Longwall Street, and they put on a wonderful mix of classic, artsy, foreign, and trendy newer films. They show them a couple of times a week, usually with at least one double feature. If you like plays, there’s the Oxford Playhouse, where we saw some very good things, and many of the colleges put on productions—try to see at least one outside, if you can. We went to “The Importance of Being Ernest” in the Merton College Gardens, which was lovely. Keep in mind, too, that it’s possible to get to the London Globe Theatre for Shakespeare plays, and anything else in London for pretty much any other kind of play you’d want to see. Concerts abound, mainly Classical music—look for fliers at the library and around town. Many church services of one kind of another have wonderful musical settings—Anglican choral Evensong is a big thing, and worth doing at least once. They make a point of keeping the “church” stuff, meaning religion, to a pretty bare minimum, so don’t feel put off if you’re not Anglican. 
Food: Bottom line: It’s not as bad as people say. In fact, this temporary Oxonian fell hard for Cornish pasties, cream tea, meat pies, sandwiches from Café Crème on Broad Street, and pretty much anything you can buy in the Covered Market. As for dining hall food: Hertford has two dining halls, one in the college’s Old Quad, and one right by the Grad Centre (the latter has finicky hours, but marginally better and much larger portions of food). It’s a no-cash system, so you bring your Bod Card, they swipe it, and it goes on your battel (account). The program tells you it pays for one meal a day, but we were encouraged to eat in the dining hall as much as we wanted, and we’ve never seen evidence of being charged for extra meals. Food at the dining hall is “hearty,” meaning you will see the potato put through its paces more thoroughly than you’ve ever imagined. It will astound you. (NB: Gravy is your friend.) I was terrified when I heard the UC referred to, on my first day in Oxford, no less, as a “festival of possibilities” by comparison. This is true, but not in the sense that Oxford food is abysmal, only that there are fewer choices than you’ll be used to. It’s included in the costs of the program, and it’ll get you through the day, so it’s to your advantage to eat it. If you have lunch in Hall, we all came around to believing the soup is the best option—it comes with a choice of salads and heaps of fresh bread as well. And? There’s this yoghurt in square containers. It’s divine. Neomodernist would just about kill for some, in fact.
If you’ve a hankering for food after the dining halls close, you’ll get used to frequenting the kebab vans, as they’re pretty well the only thing open at night. A kebab here is not meat on a stick but rather grilled meat served over naan-esque bread. I actually got to look forward to kebabs after a few weeks in Oxford, so I doubt they’re just revolting with a dash of nostalgia seasoning. Go for the chicken kebab, onions cooked on the grill, garlic sauce. Trust me.
Grades: Grading at Oxford is on a 100-point grade scale, too, theoretically. They just don’t use all of it. A 70 is good enough for a first-class degree, and I think they start considering our grades As at about 66 or 67. Your grades won’t transfer directly, of course, to W&M—you’ll just get a T for “Transfer.” However, if you’re one of those people who’s planning to apply for graduate school, you’ll have to send your Oxford transcript out with your applications, so don’t neglect your work. You’ll also be given a detailed report of your performance from each of your tutors, which is read aloud at something called Principal’s Collections, in front of the Principal (President of the College) and senior tutors. It’s nerve-wrecking, but wonderful if you’re one of those people who would do well before a firing squad. It was too much for Neomodernist’s nerves, but overall she found it a worthwhile experience.
Health: Well, they sell Tylenol with Codeine over the counter in Britain, so that ought to solve a lot of your problems. But seriously: the college nurse is called Yo Davies (yes, that’s really her name, as in “Yo, Yo!”), and you can go and see her if you have problems. Anything serious, she’ll make you an appointment with a real doctor, which carries a flat fee of something like £50-60. I’m given to understand Yo is also quite good for counseling, relaxation therapy, and general homesickness blues. She kicked off our talk about life in Oxford with a refreshing Britishism—something like “It’s easy to feel awful here.” (It’s not actually at all easy, in my opinion, but some people beg to differ with me on that issue.)
Internet: Don’t try to find wireless in Oxford. You’ll fail. Make your Ethernet cable your new best friend, and take it everywhere with you.
Jet lag: It can be a problem. The time difference is five hours, so it’s not huge, but it is significant. I am, probably needless to say, a terrible flyer who fears death every time I step onto an airplane; as a result, I booked a night flight over and couldn’t sleep a wink—the next day, I had a flight connection to make to Rome, and by the time I got to my hotel, it was dark, and I was ready to go to bed with the Romans. I never had a hint of trouble with jet lag, and recommend this as a very elegant solution. Coming back, though, I found myself exhausted at about 10 p.m. EST for weeks—still on Oxford time, I suppose. I can’t explain it. Perhaps the difference was flying home during the day.
Keys and Keypads: There seem to be a million of them. You have a room key and a wicket key, and a jangle of code numbers to punch into various buildings, and some doors also have a swipe for your Bod Card. Try to get good at remembering these things, and for God’s sake don’t leave your keys or your Bod Card in your room.
Libraries: You’ve probably heard of the Bodleian; it’s quite a good library. (Neomodernist wins Understatement of the Year award.) Books are sacred in Oxford, and this should help to explain why the Bod won’t let you check them out, and why they check your bag and ID before they let you in and out of the building. The other libraries generally let you check them out; be advised that only the College library is accessible all the time—other libraries close rather early and are rarely open on Saturdays and pretty much never on Sundays. You have to register for each library you want to use, but once you do that an automated system will keep track of the books you owe back to each library. As for the Bodleian itself, most of the books are not housed on shelves you can wander through as you do at Swem. You log into the online catalogue, find the book you want, and request online that it be sent to one of several reading rooms. I very much liked the Upper Radcliffe Camera reading room, but it’s a matter of preference. Then you go to the desk at that reading room after a couple of hours, present your card, get your book, and return it when you leave the library.
MCR: Stands for Middle Common Room, which is the body of graduate students at Hertford. (As opposed to the JCR, or Junior Common Room, which is for undergraduates, and SCR, Senior Common Room, which is faculty.) It’s made up of graduate students, and membership into this body is granted us, although we’re not actually graduate students. The MCR puts on a lot of free events—barbeques, the classiest vintage cocktail nights ever, and assorted mixers and dinners and whatnot. These are terrific ways to meet people, as is the physical place that is the MCR—a cozy tower room with a TV, newspapers, and free tea and Cadbury’s hot cocoa. I made most of my Oxford friends in the MCR, and you’ll find that they’re simply wonderful people, for the most part—friendly in addition to being brilliant, interesting, and diverse. They’ll really want to get to know you. This was a big surprise to me—I figured that the grad students would be the snootiest of all. But they’re lovely people, and your MCR membership is a resource you should take full advantage of. You’ll also be a member of the JCR, but their events just aren’t as cool, and the students weren’t as welcoming, I thought, as MCR members.
Nostalgia: The plague of the post-Oxford life. You’ll talk about it even though you know everyone’s sick of hearing about it. You’ll wish you were back. Even the sight of the grimmest, grimiest corner of Oxford would elicit near-tears of joy. At least that’s how it’s been with me.
Orientation: It’s very good at Hertford. They’ll assign to you a couple of lovely (sometimes colorful) orientation aides, who will befriend you as well as show you the ropes. You’ll be required to attend some meetings, but not a grueling circuit of mixers a la W&M’s freshman orientation. Also, much of the orientation will consist of punting, pubs, and other important social rituals of Oxford life. It’s also a good time to get to know the other Americans in the group from W&M—that week before most Oxford students return can be a really important bonding experience. I don’t recommend you spend all your time with the other Americans once term starts, but the ones in my program became very close-knit and some of the best friends I made abroad.
Punting: A great pastime of the English spring. It’s a kind of boating, in a rather narrow, long, flat-bottomed boat, which you steer, standing, with a long pole, as gondoliers do, while four or five people lounge in the boat. The punting, which would otherwise cost something like £10 an hour, is included with your college fees, and punts can be booked at the Lodge. There are two sets of punts, and I think it’s better punting at the Cherwell boathouse in North Oxford, but if you hate the walk, you can rent one right by the Grad Centre. Like many things in Oxford, it’s an excuse to drink—especially Pimms, a brown, usually gin-based liquor with a slightly medicinal taste; you mix it with clear, fizzy lemonade, and sip it while you punt up to a pub, where you drink, and then return while drinking more. You get the idea.
Queuing: How could I not be pleased with myself for coming up with this rather perfect “Q”? Much better than “Queen, the,” which I was considering as the alternative. Anyway, queuing, that practice known to Americans as “standing in line,” is pretty much a way of life for the British. At Sainsbury’s, the local grocery store, people stand in a long line and get filed into individual tills as they become available. This can be a bit jarring after our individualistic American experience of picking a line for oneself and sticking with it. Also? Don’t cut the queue. One time an American friend of mine tried to cut the ice cream line, as he wasn’t getting ice cream, and go straight to the cash register, which had no one at it, and received a baffled, offended “Weren’t you standing in the queue just now?” He was lucky to escape with his life.
Rooms: They’re lavish by W&M standards, always singles. You’ll be housed in the Graduate Centre on St. Aldates, with the other Americans on your hall but plenty of Hertford grad students living in the complex. They’ll provide you with sheets, towels, pillows, and blankets, so you don’t need to bring any of these things with you—a real blessing. Also, there are maids. Well, they’re called scouts, but they’re not the kind who come to your door in green uniforms to sell cookies. They come on weekdays, generally between 9 and 10 a.m., and they’ll make the bed, take out the trash, and leave gentle reminders that perhaps those moldy dishes on your desk would be better placed in the kitchen sink. The housekeeper, Janet, also provides a good incentive to get up in the morning, as she’s been known to enter the rooms of late-sleeping students to collect their trash while offering extensive commentary on their slothful habits. I never had the pleasure of such a visit, but I knew plenty of students, usually boys, who did. It’s just her way of trying to better you, really. If you want the scouts to skip your room, write them a note and stick it outside the door. Don’t try to skip more than two days in a row, though. They’ll come in to tidy anyway. Also, all the rooms have private bathrooms and a kitchen shared by about half the hall.
Scheduling: You’ll essentially only have three hours of class a week, and my advice is this: get up early, put in eight hours, and then go out and meet your friends or relax. You don’t need to work in the evenings if you pace yourself during the day, which allows you to enjoy the best of Oxford’s social life. I always thought I was a night person where work was concerned until I went to Oxford, and realized that I had never really been given another option, since in the US we spend our days in class, and generally have to fit work into the evening. At Oxford, you’ll get eight hours of work done per day, if you’re disciplined, which is probably much more than you’d accomplish at home, yet you’ll have a free evening. It’s a beautiful system, in my mind. Also? You shouldn’t have to pull all-nighters, except perhaps very rarely. Your Neomodernist, famed for never sleeping at W&M, found herself getting eight hours a night in Oxford, doing more work, and recreating more than she ever had in her life. Quite the trick, eh?
Travel: It behooves one, when one has already purchased a plane ticket, to see a bit of Europe. Good times to do this are either before term or after term. Notice that I don’t mention during term. Don’t plan travel then. You’ll be busy, and you’ll want to spend time with friends when you’re not busy. I was able to get away for exactly one day trip, to Sussex, and that was a stretch. I understand daytrips into London are quite manageable, but your Neomodernist was too busy with work, and too hooked on Oxford, to bother with that. If you want to take a long trip, though, before term is especially lovely—it’s Spring and it’s less crowded. After term, Europe becomes a Sweltering Tourist Hell (if this isn’t a technical term employed by international weather services, it should be.) I managed about three and a half weeks before term started, in Rome, Florence, Vienna, Prague, and Amsterdam. If you’d like to hear more about any of those places, ask. I love to ramble on about European capitals.
University vs. Colleges: The University of Oxford is made up of 39 colleges and 7 permanent private halls, which are like colleges, but often with a religious affiliation. You might imagine this as being something like the U.S.A., where an overarching central government binds many smaller ones. You’re a member of your college and of the University, which means your relationship to other colleges is a bit odd—they have to let you in if you present identification showing that you’re an Oxford student, for example, but you can’t borrow books from their libraries or use most of their facilities. If you want to read a whole lot more about this, try the Wikipedia page on the University of Oxford.
Visas: Well. This was something that fairly traumatized me in the months before departing for England. The official website for British visas is terrible, and the Global Education Office (GEO), if you ask them, will probably tell you what they told me, which is that they have no idea whether you need a visa, under the logic that they coordinate programs in too many countries to possibly know this information for every country. Now, the GEO has study abroad programs in the UK at: Oxford, Cambridge, St. Andrews, Exeter, Manchester, and Nottingham. It strikes me as a bit odd that they couldn’t look up the visa requirements for a country where they have six different programs, but I don’t pretend to understand the hidden complexities here. The bottom line is, though: a visa is expensive, tedious, and time-consuming to procure. It’s also unnecessary, provided the laws don’t change. I got one, myself, for the sake of peace of mind (and, more importantly, because I’d already paid the nonrefundable deposit when I discovered I didn’t need it). I don’t believe anyone else I know who’s gone to Oxford has gotten one, and they all made it in okay. You’ll be stamped in on what’s called a “Student Visitor” visa, provided you’ll be in the UK for less than six months; you don’t have to apply for it before you leave. I’m not a UK border control agent, but that’s the impression I’ve gotten. Be sure to have a copy of your letter of unqualified acceptance to Hertford in hand at the airport, just in case. I believe you’re also required to have a current meningitis vaccine, so do make sure yours is up to date.
Weather: Ah, the much-maligned English weather. Well, I suppose it does rain a lot. Be advised that you’re hearing from someone educated in New England, who loves slate-grey skies and drizzle. When you get there in April, it’ll still be coat weather much of the time, but it’ll gradually get warmer. The English spring is a real heartbreaker—it’s delicate, and its few clear skies are just about the most beautiful thing ever. As for the weather? Take your umbrella everywhere. Don’t leave the building without it. Get yourself a comfortable pair of rain boots, too. Beware gusts of wind, though, when your umbrella’s open—they come from nowhere and bend your umbrella like it’s a toy. It won’t even feel windy until the gale is pulling you off your feet. Even at the end of June, though, it’s not at all hot by the standards of Virginia. I stepped out of Dulles Airport coming home and was amazed to discover that my home is actually a swamp in the summer.
Xenophobia: They may kind of assume that because you’re an American, you’re stupid, politically oblivious, and pigheaded. Personally, I’ve heard enough Americans saying dumb things about masterpieces in art galleries not to blame the English for making assumptions like that. But expect any complimentary adjective (ie., “intelligent”) to be followed by “for an American.”
Young love: Cheating a little, I know, but I wanted to venture into the personal here. If you’ve got a boyfriend, girlfriend, or other person you can’t get through the day without seeing, then the challenges of navigating a temporarily long-distance relationship may seem really daunting. It can be done, though—I did it, and while it wasn’t the best four months of my relationship, we made things work. The time difference is only five hours, after all, and it’s not a very long term. If you’d like to hear more about this, let me know.
Zero’th Week, or 0th week: Now, your Neomodernist got an email from her first Oxford tutor while she was in Amsterdam, seeing lots of canals and Rembrandt paintings. This email’s syllabus referenced something elusive and terrifying called “0th week,” as in, “For 0th week, read “Invitation to a Beheading,” but if you’ve already finished that, move on to “The Gift,” because it’s really long and dense.” Neomodernist was alarmed at feeling behind already, and as though there might be work due before the term actually started. But, luckily, I was actually reading this in -1 week, so had plenty of time to read “Invitation to a Beheading” and write my essay, and I was relieved to discover that this 0th week business was actual terminology, and not the creation of a sadistic tutor. The weeks in Oxford are numbered, and you’ll be there from 0th week through 10th week. 1st week is, obviously, when most classes, lectures, and so on start, and if you’re lucky you’ll be done with your work by 9th week and have a bit of a breather at the end.
Well, that about does it. Goodnight to anyone still reading–I hope to post much more about Wordsworth in my next entry.