The Other Place

Despite our plethora of spires, elitist colleges, and questionable historical accuracy here in Cambridge, we eventually decided it would only be fair to spend a few days in Oxford, where apparently they couldn't figure out how to build a bridge and had to name their city after a muddy spot where oxen waded across the river. I'll try to lay off on the digs, but it's part of the adversarial culture here.

Us and the Radcliffe Camera and a digital camera

As I mentioned before, the University of Oxford is older than Cambridge, and has very consistent architecture due to its nearby stone quarry. Thus the spires seen on a few Cambridge colleges are nearly omnipresent across the 38 colleges at Oxford. Oxford is stereotypically stronger in the humanities and politics while Cambridge is stronger in the sciences, although there are notable exceptions on both ends. Oxford is slightly larger than Cambridge, but it feels much larger due to the double-wide street (St. Giles) that comes directly into the city centre.

But despite this, after having lived in Cambridge for a while, Oxford seems more like a bizarro version of our latest hometown. Both have imposing libraries with deposits of every printed material in the country, both have delicious tea and scones easily available, and both rely on the antiquated method of pushing yourself across a river in flat-bottomed punts (although we do have bridges instead of fords - see first paragraph).

But I have to go easy on the place not only because it's a beautiful and historically significant piece of British history, but because Laura was here for a semester three years ago. We went back to visit one of her favorite spots, University Park, and recreated a shot from the Rainbow Bridge there when I visited her there in 2007.

So young, so much hair...

And the award for "Most Years Aged in 3 Years" goes to...Braxton

In all honesty, I would definitely have applied to Oxford if they'd had a program(me?) that fit my skill set. As it is, we just get to visit. The bus from Cambridge to Oxford is known affectionately as the "Chunder Bus" in honor of the winding roundabouts taken at full speed ('chunder' is a British slang meaning 'to vomit'). I didn't quite live up to the bus's name, but I did feel some carsickness by the end of the 2 1/2 hour ride.

Jumping off the Rainbow Bridge and out of the shot

One of our favorite Oxonians (and later a Cantabridgian as well) was don and author C.S. Lewis. Despite the various worlds he created in his mind, Lewis hardly ever traveled - he came to Oxford from Belfast, fought in World War I, and then lived in England for the rest of his life. He was known (along with Ezra Pound) as the best-read man of his generation, and later became famous for his lectures about Christian apologetics on the BBC during World War II. Later in his life, he wrote the Chronicles of Narnia, a children's fantasy work for which he is best known today.

While employed as a fellow at Magdalen (pronounced 'maud-lin') college Oxford, Lewis and his brother bought a house known as The Kilns on the outskirts of the city. Named for the clay kilns originally on the property, the house and grounds are now maintained by the C.S. Lewis foundation, and is used to house scholars and authors from time to time. We were lucky enough to get a tour of the place, which was something of a pilgrimage for a Lewis-phile such as myself. Afterward, we explored the forest behind the house, which is affectionately known as 'Narnia' today.

The window through which Lewis looked when writing at his desk

We ate at The Eagle and Child, the pub in which Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, and their society known as the Inklings met to discuss their essays and works of fiction. After scouring the literature of their day, they decided they would have to write for themselves the stories they wished to read. The Lord of the Rings, Chronicles of Narnia, and many other works were born out of this society, which continues to be an inspiration to aspiring fantasy writers today. Lewis and Tolkien were good friends, and it was Tolkien's vigilant discussions with him that resulted in Lewis's conversion to Christianity.

And we ate lots of scones and meat pies, drank tea and Suffolk cider, and then braced ourselves for the chunder-y ride home.