2009-07-22 - 2:39 p.m.
I’m finally back in Canada, the course at Oxford finished, and with the prospect of going back to working looming over me. However, it occurs to me that I haven’t written much about the course. We were pretty busy when we were there- not a lot of extra time for things like long, involved blog posts, but I have some time now, so I’ll tell you all about it.
The course was called ‘The Bible in the Modern World’, and was held at Ripon College Cuddesdon, which is just a little way outside Oxford. I had first heard of this course when Wendy, the principle of my school in Vancouver asked me if I would like to go. Turns out that she had worked out an exchange with Ripon, and that they were looking for an Anglican student who was willing to go to England for two weeks. Of course, that describes me perfectly, and I happily signed up. Trev, my supervisor here at Barkerville was happy to cover for me for two weeks. He played Father Reynard himself some years ago, and he was looking forward to reprising the role.
I left Wells after work one fine Saturday. I was a bit nervous, I’ve travelled a fair bit, but usually either with someone or knowing where I would be sleeping that night. This time, I was sure of neither. Now, my flight was out of Vancouver, as is common enough, but I am living, of course, in Wells for the summer. If you haven’t looked a map lately, Wells is a long, long way from Vancouver. I had thought about flying down, the but the price was prohibitive. Happily enough, the bus turned out to be a lot more reasonable, if quite a bit longer. It’s ten hours on the bus from the Quesnel bus station to the Vancouver bus station. It’s an hour to get from Wells to Vancouver. I headed out from Wells straight after work, and caught the seven o’clock bus to Vancouver. The ride was pretty much what you’d expect, long and boring with several stops. Happily it was through the night, so I was able to get some sleep. When we arrived in Vancouver I had a bit of spare time, but thought that I would go to the airport as soon as possible. I thought I would, but BC transit had other ideas. Turns out that the skytrain doesn't’ start running on Sundays til nearly eight, so I had a good hour and a half to wait. There were other people waiting as well, most of whom had been on the bus and were also going out to the airport. Eventually the sky train deigned to open, and we made our way out to the airport.
It only took me a couple wrong turns to find out where my check in terminal was, but then I had to wait for it to open. Finally the stars aligned, and I was relived of my heavy backpack. The rest of the morning was spent in the usual dull blur of waiting to fly, hurry hurry hurry though security, run, find the gate, and then sit and wait for the next three hours.
The plane was quite nice, with seatback TVs, so you could watch one of the movies (Milk or Confessions of a Shopaholic) or one of several TV shows. They also provided a blanket, pillow and bottle of water on every seat. What really made the flight great was that not only did I have a window, but there was no one in the seat next to me! I’ve never been much for sleeping on planes, but I was able to get in a couple naps in the ten hour flight to London.
We finally arrived in London, and I was beginning to feel my twenty four hours or so of travel. Not quite tired, exactly, I was too wound up and excieted for that, but more feeling worn out, a little detached. In this frame of mind I found my way to the baggage terminal and shoved my way up so I could see what was happening. I wasn’t the only one willing to be a bit pushy, and the people on either side of me kept shoving me around as they thought they saw a suitcase (usually they were mistaken). As the crowd thinned out I moved closer to the front of the carousal to be able to grab my bag a bit sooner. The crowd kept thinning out, and I still didn’t have my bag. Then the crowd was gone, there was no more bags on the carousal, and it was just me and one other girl, standing, waiting.
Well, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened (thank goodness, with the state my brain was in). Somehow, on a direct flight, they had lost my bag. This has happened before, so I had an idea of what to do. The other girl and I went over and found the appropriate booth, filled out the claim form, and then, with a last longing look at the empty but still moving carousel, left the airport.
Thanks to a very helpful train information person, I was able to find a train to Oxford (via Reading), and get a ticket on board. The trip was made quite a bit easier by not having an enormous backpack to lug around, but on the whole, I wished that I had my luggage. Upon arriving in Oxford, I fell pretty easily back into the old habits I learned in Europe. First, find a map. Second, try determine if it is possible to walk into town, or if you have to take a bus. Happily, unlike Europe, people in England speak English, and the maps and signs are similarly in this wonderful language. I was easily able to determine, therefore, that it was not far into the city, and having no backpack to weigh me down, I headed in to find some clothes and a toothbrush (since I had no faith in the airline ever returning my bag). This was accomplished easily enough, with the additional purchase of a fruit and nut bar (which went a long way toward restoring me). Weary as I was, it didn’t quite escape me that I was doing my shopping in Oxford, of all places. However, I decided to save my gawking for another time, and took a cab to the college.
Once there, I was kindly greeted, and shown to my room, where as soon as I decently could, I passed out. I was only going to sleep for a bit, having heard all the warnings about jet lag, but in the event, I slept for four glorious hours. I awoke just in time for the inaugural tea for the course, and my first opportunity to see who I would be spending the next two weeks with.
Tune in next time to hear more of my adventures in England!
