compost is lovely

Just back from my favourite little farm in Wales! I'd bore you with all the dreadful little details, but I need to quickly unpack, wash clothes, and then repack before heading off to Italia tomorrow to rendez-vous with C in Firenze. Just rest assured that the past week entailed lots of tea breaks, compost heaving, jostling about in the back of the Land Rover, and bell ringing. You know, just another standard trip to the land with more sheep than people.

goodbye hilary

I'm going to have to invert the typical glass half empty/half full adage, and instead of celebrating that I'm two thirds done with Oxford, dwell on the fact that I still have one third left.

Even then, one third just doesn't seem like enough.

However, that's all still a while off and until then I can just concentrate on sending hilary term off with a bang and looking forward to the infamously long easter break. I've traded in papers for packing, and instead of diving nose deep into critical theory or Frankenstein I'm rifling through hostel reservations and flight confirmations. What they don't tell you is that Oxford is actually travel agent training. These six week breaks are just made for it. I can't think of a better place to read Waiting for Godot then on a train from Rome to Florence. But then, maybe that's just me.

So, if you begin to miss me in the next six weeks (inevitable) and wonder where I may be (which will be highly variable), feel free to pick and choose from the projected selection of my wanderings below:

-up to my knees in mud at a farm in Wales
-eating gelato outside the Pantheon in Rome
-cruising on a bike through the streets of Siena
-haggling at a bazaar in Istanbul
-flying above the cave dwellings in Cappadocia
-celebrating C's twenty-first, Turkish-style (don't worry, I don't exactly know what that means yet either)
-punting along the Thames with the Ps and Gs
-tracing the steps of William Wallace through the Scottish highlands

See ya on the other side.

more marginalia discovered in the english faculty library

whole lotta regatta

Yes, that clod of earth was stuck to the back end of our boat from when we hit the bank during the first day of Torpids. We may go down in history, but at least no one was ejected from our boat- not something all participating colleges can claim!

meet the beehlers

If C has just flown back to the US without developing a keen sense of englishness then it's no fault of mine. I mean, I gave it my best. From day one we were off exploring palaces, having pints, drinking tea, wandering about London, and competing in regattas (actually that last one was just me- C was given the role of number one fan/official photographer: the first of which he excelled at and the the second of which he considerably failed). All in all, I think we pulled off project massiveladishization moderately well. At least, I think he finally figured out which direction the cars were all coming from.


To give credit where credit's due, C wasn't my only guest. L came all the way from Paris and I think I can speak for us all in saying that we have become much more cultured as a result. At least, now every time I see a Picasso car I think of L and other artsy things.

C and L were quite keen guests and so we actually ventured outside of Oxford into uncharted territory. aka Blenheim Palace, birthplace of Winston Churchill. L has mad skills in "making friends" with guards and whatnot and as a result we learned about all the places one is not allowed to go in addition to all the places one is allowed to go. Personal highlight for me was seeing Winston Churchill's velvet old man slippers with his initials embroidered on them. Jealous.

Clearly, such a trip forces one to embrace their inner lad. I mean, Churchill was quite the lad himself. And all those statues are quite inspiring. Other laddy excursions included fish and chips, Old Rosie, and GBK (Gourmet Burger Kitchen- no joke, those burgers are HUGE). Oh, and lots of chips. Gotta love those chips. Chips, chips, chips.


I could go on about what a great tour guide I am, but I'll spare you. Instead, I'll just end with saying that the weather was deceivingly sunny during this Beehler reunion and that C has just left with a fairly skewed perspective of British weather. Or maybe C wasn't lying to me when he said that he could control the weather with his mind. That would certainly explain a lot at any rate. Like all the freaking snow in Vermont.

on the edge of a wee bit of nasty sea

Things to Do in Ireland
(A Slightly Deceiving Title Since This Isn't Really A List):

1. Claire and I saw five rainbows on this trip. Also, Claire is a pot of gold.

2. Can I just say one thing? Doolin has the nicest people EVER. Legit. From our excessive interaction with Irish bus drivers, hostel owners, etc., we never met nicer people in our lives. Also, the Irish family we befriended along the road, had tea with, and from whom we learned about the Irish music festival that just happened to be going on during our stay in Doolin (best. thing. ever).

3. Cliffs of Moher. This is where I learned that Claire and I are both ballsy. Or that Claire is ballsy and that I'm just easily convinced.

4. What's an Irish music festival without a Guinness or two?