Europe 2008 Part VI — Oxford

On the morning of Tuesday, May 6^th we left the nicest hostel of our journey so far, boarded the metro and took the RER B toward Charles de Gaulle Airport. After being legally robbed for the LAST time in Europe (we had to pay a hefty ticket to get into the airport because we had not known to buy one earlier….) we picked up our boarding passes for Bristol, England.

The flight was brief. English had become the primary language once more and the euro had become the pound. At the airport, we picked up our bags and boarded a bus to the local train station. I threw my backpack into the bus luggage storage, which was probably a very bad idea.

Once we arrived at the Bristol train station, I discovered why this was a bad idea. As I pulled my bag from the belly of the beast I detected a curious odor…it smelled like a 1993 vintage Puligny-Montrachet, Burgundy…er…just kidding. Well, it WAS the smell of red wine though. One of the bottles we bought in Paris had an unfortunate run-in with another bottle and got ‘roughed up’. I think it was some kind of romantic dispute over a very fetching bottle of champagne. Unfortunately, my clothes received the brunt of the damage. More on that later.

The countryside between Bristol and Oxford was much as I imagined. How can I describe it? It was the Shire. Green hills, golden fields, trees, flowers, little rivers…it was lovely.

And we had a beautiful spring day, Caleb attesting that it was much nicer than all the days he had lived in Oxford between October and April. When we finally arrived, he began leading me through his old haunts. The cobbled streets were crawling with students, professors, all kinds of people on bikes. Weaving and winding through the old colleges we took an abrupt right turn and came at last to the Bath Place Hotel, a charming little 18^th century inn where Caleb worked for six months.

We were able to drop our stuff and go exploring. I would discover some British food for the first time; but first things first. We were in Oxford and that meant one thing.

Ale.

Having left Italy and France far behind, we had graduated from Bacchus’ merry red drink to the frothy brews of the north.

And we were not disappointed.

After enjoying a pint at the Turf Tavern we wandered around a bit and I had a taste of that infamous British cuisine. It was called a Cornish pasty. To say it sat heavily with me would probably be an understatement. It was good; but not a habit I can get into. Passing around the corner from Bath Place one sees the picturesque Bridge of Sighs, which is modeled after a bridge in Venice.

Later that afternoon, it was time to go out into the suburbs for a very special trip that I had long anticipated. Taking the bus just east of town, we got off at a certain stop and took a walk into the woods. Finally we arrived at a humble little Anglican church with a cemetery. There we took a moment to pay our respects to the dear C.S. Lewis and his brother Warnie. It was a very peaceful and quiet place.

From there we took the Shotover Road into the countryside, which is apparently a walk that Jack would take every week. This took us into a beautiful meadow and a woods that is rumored to be the birthplace of Narnia. On the other side of the woods we arrived at Jack’s house the Kilns.

What a nice evening!

(By the way, If you’re a Lewis fan and you haven’t seen the movie “Shadowlands”, consider it a Must.)

Arriving back in central Oxford we watched the sun careen in a blazing trail behind the spires and steeples of the university in the beautiful South Park.

Following this we walked around the even more picturesque Christchurch Meadow.

And finally, that evening, we paid a visit to the Eagle and Child pub where the famed Inklings met for decades to share their literary genius. It was a wonderful feeling to stand in the Rabbit Room and see the old photos of Tolkien and Lewis on the wall. Unfortunately the kitchen was closed so we headed across town and found some pizza (not British, but very good). Later that evening we returned to the Bird and Baby and shared a pint.

A great night.

Our bus ride to London was not until the early morning (like 3-4am) so we had some time to just relax and unwind in one of the vacant rooms at Bath Place. I could hardly believe that our time in Europe had waned to just a few hours. What an adventure it had been.

As I said before, earlier that day my clothes had been stained red with the blood of Dionysus. The few hours we had at Bath Place afforded me the chance to wash them in the laundry. I wasn’t able to get them fully dry; but I much prefer a damp tee-shirt to a pink, smelly one. If you think the smell of red wine all over your luggage is nice, think again. It’s awful.

About 3:30 am (as I recall, though I could be a bit off) we went out into the chilly, silent streets of Oxford to catch our bus. There was a real peace about the place. The scent of honeysuckle and lilac hung heavy in the air as we walked down Queen’s Lane. Part of me didn’t want to leave. We had spent less than a day in that wonderful town.

But it was time to go.

I caught some zzzs on the bus to London. It was a rude awakening arriving at Heathrow; but we had reached at last our final destination in Europe. The wait was long and very tiring; but our plane took off some time later that morning. We had a few hours’ layover in Chicago. And before we knew it, we were home again.

I must say, being gone two weeks is one thing. Being gone for seven months is quite another. The homecoming was nice, but I am sure that it was much more meaningful for Caleb and his family. I don’t know that I could ever live in another country for that long; and I am immensely impressed that ole Leb made it through. And I’m sure he’s a better person for it.

* * *

Well, the journey is over now. Thanks for coming along on the adventure. As I said, it was full of ups and downs. And there is a lot that I didn’t write about. Even if you only managed to look at the photos without reading the stories, I can’t blame you really. I confess, it was rather long-winded.

Now I have the same feeling I had when I finished writing about those danged movie scores. What am I going to write about now?

I am sure some new direction will present itself…