blighty....

...it grows on me.

I was going to explain that a bit more, but I kind of like the ambiguity (fungal).

Anyway. I, for a long while, have held a general distaste for Europeans as I always imagined them to be pretentious, rude, and enemies of freedom. Upon arrival, I was sure that this was the case. I was cranky, very tired, eventually sick, and nervous about the RSC's summer course.

I hate crowds. Getting to the center square made me sure that Oxford was as much tourist-trap as place of higher learning, with hoards of American undergrads manifesting most of what I hate about America in the streets. British breakfast was gross. I thought, this will be the Sadness of Guatemala Part II: This Time, Everything's Way More Expensive.

However.

Today changed everything. I woke up with a hangover, last night, I went out to a pub with a UN High Council on Refugees worker from the Philippines, a philosophy doctoral student from Denmark, and a UNHCR worker in Argentina. There was dancing...and I think Chumbawumba.

It was my day off, so I set out at 1 pm to take some pictures. I walked through the tourist madness (stopping to buy plums and kiwis, which were exceptionally cheap, +1 redemption points). Then I kept walking. I found a little neighborhood, with cheap food (+1), friendly people (+2), and delicious espresso(+2). Then I had street falafel (+1) and Rubicon mango soda (omg).

Then I found a graveyard (+5). I don't know why, but I love taking pictures and sitting in graveyards. Not in a spooky goth-y sort of way. In that way that there aren't usually very many people there, they usually have an eerie feeling of history, and death is among the most universal human experiences there is. It also sat in the midst of trees that looked like they shoulda been in the Lord of the Rings, which is a popular reference to make here.

I left the graveyard, and wandered some more. Found a train station (+4) took some more pictures, saw some ducks. Hell yeah, ducks (+1). Heard some three year olds speaking in THICK British accents (+3).

Here's where shit gets good. I approached a park, seemingly a park like any other. I walked in, bought an ice cream from a street vendor (+2), and entered. A man was flying a kite (+6). The park was a little strange, such that it was just a huge meadow. There was a little beaten path, but not much else. I stepped over a sleeping dude, who happened to clutching a bottle of vodka. And then it happened. I saw about 30 ponies, no fences, no barriers. Just me, and a big ass crowd of ponies. NO SRSLY PONIES!!!!! (+ 1 billion rainbows)

This place definitely has redeeming qualities, though novelty feels to me like perhaps the safest way to love something.

A billion rainbows,

-kevford