Disgustingly Magical

Most of my posts this far have been me trying to wax eloquent about the beauty and magic of this city and of England in general. I could go on ad nauseam about the my walks next to the Thames, the way the light hits the spires, the cobblestone streets, the ceilings and their intricate designs, the English feel of the place--it would get disgusting, how much I could talk about how magical this place is. But instead, I want to talk about the difficulties, the issues you didn't think you'd run into in England. Let us begin:

The cold. Oh, is it ever cold here. That should be obvious, and they tell you it's gonna be cold, but I'm from Southern California. If it gets above 85° there it's scorching hot and not worth living the house unless it's to go to the beach, and if it's below 65° we break out the puffy parkas and fear the imminent apocalypse that's sure to follow. What I'm saying is that I'm a weather wimp and so far it has yet to get above 48° here. There are days my fingers have difficulty moving, that my legs get red with cold, that I fear my face will never be warm again because the wind drives relentlessly against me. It's a bit miserable some days and my flatmates and I consider not leaving the house because of the 20 minute walk we'd have to endure. But we do. Every day. And every day we fear that we'll never be warm again.

The washing machines. Did you know that there is a philosophy behind washing machines? In America, we wash our clothes more often, and therefore our washing cycles are shorter, no more than an hour. In Europe, they wash their clothes less often, and therefore they're washing cycles are longer. If I want to wash and dry a single load of laundry, it'll take AT LEAST 3 hours. If jeans are involved, forget about it--5 hours. (Granted, I do a lower heat setting, but even in America this nonsense doesn't happen!) It's absolutely mad.

Food. I'm not even going to discuss the cuisine--it's a multifaceted discussion that warrants its own post. I'll say only this for now: some of it's as bad as you've heard and some of it is glorious. But food here. Their burgers are very odd. They have a totally different type of beef they use. Their ketchup is different. They don't have ranch. Mac and cheese comes in a can. The supermarkets don't have spicy peppers. They call "cilantro" "corriander." Their beer...oh, man. Their beer. I don't even want to talk about it. Their IPAs are weak. I really enjoyed their IPA. I hate IPAs; they're too bitter and awful, but this one was good. It's very odd. The beer sort of sucks. (Sorry, England.) Yeah. Food is a whole separate topic.

People on the street. Now, I'm from SoCal and I rag on LA for being a rude city, but at least we all smile at each other as we walk past one another. Here no one smiles. I've run into a handful of cashiers who smile, but most of the time I have to awkwardly scurry away as they stare past me and into my American soul, judging me with their unsmiling eyes filled with perpetual clouds and rain. Shopping can be a bit stressful to say the least. Seriously though. As I walk past people on the street there are no smiles. It's very odd.  

Driving in the town. Now, I don't have a car, right? So I don't have to worry about driving on the other side of the road. As a pedestrian who's had to retrain the directions to look when jay-walking, I've gotten used to it. That's not what I'm annoyed about. I'm annoyed that this city, Oxford, makes NO SENSE. Driving in it is insane. There are streets you can't go down, streets that only go one way. Streets that are for buses only, for pedestrians only, streets that are closed at such and such time of day--and then there's road work, and THEN there's traffic. Suffice to say I hate using taxis in this town and I only use them in the utmost need. 

The cold. "Wait, Sammy, you already talked about--" Yeah, yeah, I know. What I DIDN'T mention was the indoor factor. This country still uses radiators. Now, I like them. They're picturesque and toasty to lean up against, but sometimes...sometimes they don't heat the room like they should. Or at all. Like the dining room where I need to eat in the morning. Or the kitchen where I can see my breath some mornings. Yeah. It's cold here. 

Cash. This whole city runs off cash. Well, more or less. If I want good coffee from a good coffee shop, I need cash. If I want amazing food truck food, cash. G&D's magical ice cream? Cash. The market where I get great prices on veggies, fruits, and cheese? Cash. I need cash for all the cool stuff. I mean, I can go to pub and use a card, but I can't get good coffee without cash and I just never carry it. It's annoying and a total culture shift. They could use Square, but they don't. It's very odd. 

Also, everything closes down incredibly early. Unless you're a pub, club, or bar you're closed by, like, 6PM. Very strange. 

All those things being said, I love this town. I love this country. I love that I get to study Tolkien where he lived, that I get to hear world famous speakers at the Union, that my college is older than my country, that I get to walk on cobblestone paths to the library, that the English countryside is practically in my backyard, that my walk to my tutors necessitates me walking along the Thames at sun up. While there are a number of cultural oddities that befuddle and (mildly) annoy, I will happily put up with them and jokingly complain about them (except for the cold--that one is serious business; I will never be warm again) because this place really is disgustingly magical. 

Like I said. Magical.

Magical...and cold. Freaking cold.