2008 Woodie Awards
Collegian abroad: Old Oxford offers modern appeal to students in Summer Seminar
By Shayna Murphy, Collegian Staff
Issue date: 9/2/08 Section: Arts & Living
OXFORD, ENGLAND - It started with a flyer. Not one that I happened to notice, but that I was responsible for hanging for the history department. Inviting history and English majors to come get credit, explore the English countryside, and learn the meaning of the term "pub crawl," the flyer was for the University's Oxford Summer Seminar.
As a history major, the offer sounded tempting. As Eddie Izzard once opined, "Europe - that's where all the history is." Admittedly, I'd been aching to go to England ever since I'd been old enough to stand, let alone declare a major. And so with history all over Oxford, Oxford suddenly seemed like the place I needed to be.
When the semester wrapped in May, all my energies shifted toward preparing for the trip. Having been accepted to the seminar in March, ideally, I should have handled most of the preparations by May. But I hadn't. I hadn't even bought plane tickets. And frankly, thanks to overdraft fees, I was even in the red some 40 dollars.
During the six weeks or so between semester's end and the beginning of the seminar, I worked like frantic to get the trip on course. Returning, tail between legs, to the job I had vowed the previous summer never to do again, I was able to set finances and travel arrangements in order.
Multiple 12-hour shifts later, I was ready for take-off. I was going to miss my friends, especially those who weren't too keen on e-mail, but it was all relative. To Oxford I embarked.
With Air India as guide, my red-eye flight to London felt like an eternity. "Please don't crash," I pleaded the whole way through. "Or if you do crash, try to do it over some land. I don't want to meet my maker after plummeting 30,000 feet into the watery depths below." And then I watched "Juno" about three times - I especially didn't want to die watching "Juno" - before landing in the city past dawn.
Arriving at Trinity College, Oxford some several hours later, I was struck by how surreal the whole experience seemed. One of the 39 colleges comprising Oxford University, Trinity College rests at the nexus of Broad Street. There was one rule that I and my fellow seminarians were immediately told to abide by during our stay: come whatever may, we were instructed to keep off the grass.
As a history major, the offer sounded tempting. As Eddie Izzard once opined, "Europe - that's where all the history is." Admittedly, I'd been aching to go to England ever since I'd been old enough to stand, let alone declare a major. And so with history all over Oxford, Oxford suddenly seemed like the place I needed to be.
When the semester wrapped in May, all my energies shifted toward preparing for the trip. Having been accepted to the seminar in March, ideally, I should have handled most of the preparations by May. But I hadn't. I hadn't even bought plane tickets. And frankly, thanks to overdraft fees, I was even in the red some 40 dollars.
During the six weeks or so between semester's end and the beginning of the seminar, I worked like frantic to get the trip on course. Returning, tail between legs, to the job I had vowed the previous summer never to do again, I was able to set finances and travel arrangements in order.
Multiple 12-hour shifts later, I was ready for take-off. I was going to miss my friends, especially those who weren't too keen on e-mail, but it was all relative. To Oxford I embarked.
With Air India as guide, my red-eye flight to London felt like an eternity. "Please don't crash," I pleaded the whole way through. "Or if you do crash, try to do it over some land. I don't want to meet my maker after plummeting 30,000 feet into the watery depths below." And then I watched "Juno" about three times - I especially didn't want to die watching "Juno" - before landing in the city past dawn.
Arriving at Trinity College, Oxford some several hours later, I was struck by how surreal the whole experience seemed. One of the 39 colleges comprising Oxford University, Trinity College rests at the nexus of Broad Street. There was one rule that I and my fellow seminarians were immediately told to abide by during our stay: come whatever may, we were instructed to keep off the grass.
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