Countdown to Midnight

11 minutes, 45 seconds until midnight. That means I now have less than 11 minutes to catch you up on the last two weeks. It has indeed been quite some time, so in the short time I have until I've promised myself I'll return to writing my paper [disastrously due tomorrow], I'll give you the best account of these two weeks as I possibly can. First things that come to mind...

1. Emilíana Torrini. If you haven't heard of this Icelandic wonder, iTune her now. I mean it, immediately. See her live whenever and wherever possible.

2. I'm presenting in front of 30+ people tomorrow on the subject of "Prostitution During the Victorian Era." Enough said. Wish me luck.

3. Something extraordinary happened at The White House last night. [In case you've forgotten, The White House is 107 Botley's local haunt, haha.] After sharing some conversation and Nobby's Nuts with Sam the bartender, he locks the place up, but as is usual, we continue to banter on for another hour or two. More drinks are poured, but here's where you should pay attention: Sam doesn't ask for £. Oh no. Instead, he tells Justin to just pay later. Whoa, whoa, whoa! Does this mean that Sam extended us "credit," thereby explicitly implying that he has faith in us and trusts these American blokes to pay him on a later date?? Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is exactly what that means. Our first extension of true English hospitality. Hats off to you Mr. Sam.

4. Antonio and I recently purchased tennis racquets and have been spending the blue skied afternoons hitting at the park nearby. Lo and behold, halfway through our rallying, here comes a blonde boy standing against the chain link fence, racquet in hand. Assuming he's waiting for someone, Antonio and I play on, but quickly come to realize his friends aren't showing as soon as he'd like. Thirty minutes later, this kid Jake has not only become our new best friend, but he has hit me [hard] several times from behind with the ball. We are two peas in a pod. Two days later, Antonio and I return, and so does Jake. How does he know when we're going to be at the courts, I wonder. Jake apologizes that he couldn't make it the day before... How great is this kid?

5. Bad news: it's 12:04. I've definitely surpassed my time. Good news: Trivia night at The Hollybush is on this week, aka today! Antonio's friend is in town [from Seattle!], and apparently he's a genius, so my hope is that we're going to whip them Brits when it comes to their own history and stupid Norman invasion of 1066. Also, I'm heading to Ireland in less than 48 hours.

6. Forgot: The above picture is the latest in Antonio's evolutionary series of contemporary still lifes. "Prawn Cocktail" flavored chips. Hm...

Ten Things You Should Know About. . .

Antonio.

1. He’s the first of six. The other five are younger sisters. (Whoa.)
2. He’s way too down-to-earth having been in the Coast Guard for 10 years.
3. He’s half Japanese, half Uruguayan.
4. He does things, like washing the dishes or cooking an amazing breakfast, without a second thought.
5. He’s proved he’s quite the generous guy: He bought our whole round of drinks the other night. (I thanked him by unexpectedly beating him at pool as I sunk that 8 ball in the corner pocket. What now Antoine?)
6. He’s got one contagious laugh.
7. He’s got great taste in music, wine and other significant things to have great taste in.
8. The guy wears snazzy pants.
9. He’s afraid of coming off too “New Age-y.” (Haha… he kills me.)
10. He just came downstairs to ask me if the £1 lotion he bought smells “like girl.”

“You’re in the 101st Airborne Division…”

Last night marked 107 Botley’s maiden voyage to The White House, the pub we pass but never enter. All that changed last night after yet another fantastic family meal of pesto, garlic bread, salad, red wine and drinks that followed. The quote above was spoken by a local man Justin seemed to befriend while adeptly throwing darts. Right off the bat, it was clear that this striped shirt man had consumed his fair share of beverages, not to mention his speech and behavior furthermore confirmed my long-held belief that people this side of London push their limit all the time, if not every possible time. The reality of the nightly English social scene, combined with our aged friend’s thick accent, made just about every statement he made indistinguishable, except for his first and best line: “You’re in the 101^st Airborne Division.” Try as he might, Justin just couldn’t convince him otherwise.

My ideas surrounding the hard-drinking, ale-craving, rebel-rousing crowd of the historic academic town called Oxford: 1) Instinctually, their existence and/or identity is co-dependent on being a part of timeless English culture where all that’s needed is a worn bar to lean upon, a few crooked teeth and a pint in hand. 2) It’s in their blood, literally. And it has been for generations. And it will continue to be thanks to their massively high consumption rate. Recent stat: By the age of three, the average British baby will have consumed the equivalent of 1 – 2 pints of Guinness. (Keep in mind that a pint is one very large glass filled to the brim.) I mighthave made that up, (although it could very well be true), but according to The Times, Britain has the highest rate of adolescent and underage drinking. 33% of the under-15 population gets smashed twice a week, on average. Also, Britain is third in the world for teen pregnancy, right after Mexico (2) and America (1). Way to go U.S.A. Always knew you had it in ya.

Despite what you may think, not all Englishmen (or women) are crazies sprinting toward the nearest pub as soon as their shift ends. On the contrary, they display a tremendous amount of class at any given time, even when taking care of business… in the bathroom stalls. To end this tale, I shall leave you with the latest graffiti findings written in the stalls of The King’s Arms:

“Rolland says Toy Story 2 was just OK…”

Here's to You, Oxford

Oi!!

The circular building to your right is the Bodleian Library, which is adjacent to my place of loyalty and study: Hertford College. Hertford is one of the oldest colleges under Oxford University's umbrella, and has been going strong since 1264. After a total of three nights in MY NEW FLAT (107 Botley Road, Oxford, England), it’s come to my attention that saying “hello” is not the standard greeting. If Brits ever use “hello,” it’s not because they’re trying to be friendly; it’s because a) they’re trying to get your undivided attention or b) you’re in their way, so move.

This is just the first of many linguistic differences that I’ve personally dealt with, including the fact that the British accent gets crazier and generally harder to understand the further you delve into the countryside, aka Oxford. On the way out to Oxford via London, on a red, double-decker bus of course, the countryside proved to be exactly how one might imagine it: the greenest of green rolling hills, dotted with oak trees and woolly sheep, bordered by low stone walls or wooden fences. As the bus creaked into town and over a mud-colored stream, which apparently is the Thames, the first glimpse of Oxford was far from disappointing despite the NASTY weather. Nasty includes constant misting rain, fat drops of rain, random downpours of rain, horizontal rain, relentless wind from several directions at once, or a combo of the above. The locals say the weather’s been unusually harsh for early September and that “it should warm up here soon,” but I’m skeptical. No matter the conditions outside, Brits are always stepping out on the streets to head to the pubs, particularly after dark when the rowdy English folk truly come to life. The Brits flock to their pubs like ants to a potato chip… students, high-brow professors, the business men, the blue-collar guys, the club-hopping girls in their stilettos and knock-off designer names, the quieter girls with the glasses and pea coats, the ale-drinkin’ dirty-jokin’ Irish men, the giggling international students in the corner speaking Chinese at warp speed, and my particular favorite, the homelier 40+ English ladies in the plaid, pleated skirts who look as if a night out on the town is exactly what they need. Stay tuned...