Week 0

Growing Pains of Settling in

As Sunday bleeds into Monday and Week 1 begins, I find myself reflecting on the past few days of settling in. Hilary Term is about to start in full swing, and I have my first lecture on Tuesday, with my first tutorial later this week. I’m sitting in the St. Catz library meant to be finishing up my readings for my first Jane Austen tutorial, but I find myself distracted, and Noah Kahan’s “Homesick” isn’t helping me focus on this incredibly British task in front of me.

I don’t think it’s fully sunk in that I’m living here for the next several months. It feels like an academic vacation, and it feels like I’ll be jetting back to the states in a few days, not starting classes here this week. I don’t think my anxiety has allowed me to consider any sort of permanence here.

I’ve expressed exhaustively how anxious I was leading up to my arrival, and on the day of my flight I experienced several panic attacks at the very thought of getting on the plane. I was only awake for 3 hours that day before leaving for PHL, and I spent all 3 of those hours in a fit of anxiety and tension. Then the flight itself felt like a fever dream, especially with my inability to sleep a wink.

By the time I landed, and after navigating myself out of the mess that is Heathrow (not an easy task for the geographically challenged such as myself) and paying for a far too expensive uber, I finally felt a sense of peace wash over me as I stared out into the English countryside. By the time my uber reached Oxfordshire, I was in awe gazing out the window. This is going to sound incredibly American, but I was struck by how absolutely old everything is. Beautiful, of course, but old. It speaks to my American ignorance at my shock over how old Europe is. Especially a university first established in 1096.

Navigating myself to the large shopping center and Primark, I truly fell in love with the city. It’s stunning and has surpassed my expectations. The streets are gorgeous, the shops are quaint and cozy, and the university buildings are austere.

Wandering around the Primark, the sleep deprivation well and truly hit, but I forged ahead to a Tesco to at least outfit my dorm with food. Walking in, the sky was clear and beautiful, walking out, the rain decided to ruin my first day. This country rains out of nowhere. I cannot say I would recommend walking a mile in the rain without a jacket or umbrella and with a paper bag. I lost my poor Primark bag to the street. Bracing the rain that first day was probably the most alone I’ve felt here so far, and I’m not ashamed to admit I had a little breakdown when my bag broke in the middle of the street. I’m coming to realize that going abroad alone means learning to spend time alone, and to keep yourself company.

Discouraged, I trudged my way back to St. Catz, took the worst shower of my life, and fell into bed at 4 pm. A bed, which by the way, is probably the hardest surface I’ve ever heard of generously referred to as a bed. Rather, it is a slab of lumpy balsa wood.

The rest of the week has been considerably less discouraging. I managed to meet some other Visiting Students the day after at our Welcome Tea (how British) and in the Junior Common Room (JCR). At least I’m assured that this consuming sense of feeling overwhelmed is not something I’m experiencing alone. I’ve met some really kind and friendly students from all across the states, and I’m genuinely excited to get to know them better and share in this experience with them.

Yesterday, the full-year Visiting Students took us on a walking tour around the city, and I finally got to see some of the iconic Oxford sights. The Radcliffe Camera absolutely lived up to the stock photos. The Bodleian makes Perkins, Ruby, and Bostock look minuscule. The Bridge of Sighs makes me want to run to Waterstones to pick up a clothbound copy of Brideshead Revisited.

To cap such a quintessentially Oxford afternoon, a couple of us decided to find a pub to grab a pint and dinner. Exploring the city with other Americans felt really fitting for this first week. As soon as we open our mouths, our American-ness is incredibly obvious. Our bumbling stumbling around the city without knowing the customs marks us as Americans without even hearing our accents. It’s nice knowing there’s a whole pack of us navigating this together.

And Sunday has been a day of preparing for next week’s tutorials. I managed to finish listening to Northanger Abbey, and I’ve started the collection of her teenage notebooks. Which, my heart is practically fluttering with the knowledge that the first volume, Jane Austen’s handwritten notebook, is in the Bodleian library.

Let’s see how Week 1 shapes up, and how I settle into a new routine. I think it is finally hitting me that I am here for the long haul. I’m starting to get excited for the next couple of weeks, but I say this now in the library. It’s usually when I’m alone, lying awake from jet lag that my panic hits, and the existential crises ensue.

From Oxford with Love,

Jiewei

P.S. Apologies to those who managed to make it through this convoluted, rambling, disorganized recap.

P.P.S. If you’ve made it this far, give me drink recommendations, college Burnetts drinking has rendered me drink-ordering-ignorant. I can name maybe three drinks: an espresso martini, an aperol spritz (which would recommend), and a negroni sbagliato (thank you, emma d’arcy).