From Master of English to Mute of Moscow
In the past 8 weeks or so, just about everyday has included at least one blog worthy event. I finally wrote one in Oxford during the second half of the session (that being the second entry I’d ever contributed to ryanlyford.com—a blog that’s supposed to represent The Lygers, not just him), but maybe now that a) I am currently unemployed (and even if I were, I am still on summer break) and b) I have finished my masters (I hope I don’t decide I need another degree later down the road), I really have no excuse to not write. And write I should, because Moscow provides much fodder for writing, even when one stays indoors for most of the day.
So generally, Oxford was lovely. I worked really hard and, as usual, felt like I was about the second dumbest and least well read person in the program. As uncomfortable as that is, I think that’s a good place to be. Besides the obligatory school wide trips to Stratford for plays and a few Chaucer class field trips to London, I was kind of an antisocial loser. Unlike most students who read their primary texts before they got there, I was too busy finishing out a school year at a new school until 48 hours until I left, and in my spare time I was trying to get in gear for our big move here. Okay, some of my spare time was spent on a Memorial Day trip to NYC with Lyfords, attending various going away parties thrown for us and other foreign service folks, church committees, kayaking on the Potomac—all good stuff. I’m glad I wasn’t wasting my time reading Chaucer then. But to make up for lost time, once I got to Oxford , instead of packing in all my European vacation dreams like folks did, I read Chaucer (and stuff critics had to say about Chaucer) like a banchee. And it wasn’t all bad—whereas all the thousands of tourists who flocked to Oxford every weekend could only take pictures of the exterior of the Bodleian Library and Radcliffe Camera, I got to do my work inside them (upstairs with lovely view of the surrounding spires). It makes sense to study when you in Oxford—more so there than say Rio de Janeiro.
Ryan arrived just a few hours after my last class meeting (and about 18 hours after I had submitted my final paper). We had a great time putting around Oxford on Wednesday and Friday and in London on Thursday. I had been planning our day in London in my head for weeks prior. I at least used to know the city well when I stayed there for several weeks in college, but much has happened in my life in 7 years. I found I had forgotten much of what I thought I knew. I really wanted to go to a free lunch-time recital at St. Martin’s in the Field church in Trafalgar Square, one of my favorite free things to do during my undergrad London stay. I had even checked the schedule the week before, and the concerts seemed to be ongoing daily…I just assumed they hadn’t yet made out the schedule for the day we were going. (These concerts typically feature local music students from various Conservatories—they’re informal and often scheduled fairly last minute.) At any rate, there was no concert for all the month of August (that day was about August 5th, I think)—just prayer and communion. Bummer. So we used the bathroom at the National Gallery and headed North to the British Library, the main reason I decided I needed one more day in London. Their current map exhibit is very cool (Ryan especially enjoyed it—at one point there was an old map of Boston, and he was having a fun time explaining to these old British men which parts of the river had been filled in). But I had really come to see the preserved manuscripts. The luminaries and Gutenberg bibles and such were pretty magnificent, but I, of course, was more taken by Jane Austen’s letters, and Charlotte Bronte’s original handwritten copy of Jane Eyre which was opened to the last chapter which starts off famously: “Reader, I married him.” After a few hours at the library, we headed down south to St. Paul’s hoping to climb up to the dome. Unfortunately, we arrived about half an hour too late. Oh well. I’ve learned that in Europe you have to do everything between 10 am and 4 pm…and that lunch breaks are sometimes 11am to 2 pm….and if you can’t pack in everything you want to see in the 3 remaining hours, tough luck. We ate Indian food that night and saw The Secret of Sherlock Holmes. The acting was good (just two men—Holmes and Watson), but R and I were both underwhelmed. Honestly, it was the least interesting production I’ve ever seen in British Isles(and I’ve seen a LOT of theatre in UK …and even some in Ireland.) There was no secret—as was advertised in the title--just a homage to all the backstories we already knew. I was trying to be a good wife and let Ryan pick the show when we bought half price tickets that morning in Leicester Square. Maybe I’ll choose next time. J
I think Ryan’s already written about Friday and Saturday in Oxford—graduation was Saturday afternoon. Everything went smoothly, except that it poured down rain all morning and the portion of the afternoon that we were supposed to have a reception in the Rector’s garden—a sacred patch of grass in which no one is allowed except after their graduation. It was moved indoors to room I could have gone in anytime. Oh well. I discovered I really like a Pimm’s—England’s version of a sangria or Long Island iced tea.
It does seem that the weather/climate has dominated our lives lately. I think I breathed cleaner air in Oxford than I had in years and years—there are few cars, all the buses run off clean gas or are hybrids or something…and it’s far away enough from London to be fairly green and pristine. I loved jogging by the Thames and noticing how much nicer the water smelled than the Potomac. I guess that doesn’t necessarily indicate it was any cleaner, but I think maybe it is. I think it’s good that Ryan was able to set up camp in Moscow first so that I could mentally prepare myself for the bizarre and hazardous heat wave and subsequent smokiness from raging forest fires. I had originally envisioned Moscow’s summer as akin to England’s—usually hovering around 75 degrees, sunny or rainy, but perfectly pleasant for outside activities and sightseeing. I thought it was the Winter that kept people indoors around here. And usually (as in the past 1000 years of record keeping), I think it all that it true. This week we did have about 2 days of relative clarity—i.e. we could see some blue sky….we didn’t smell smoke, but it seems that was a temporary reprieve. They’ve issued a voluntary evacuation for nonessential personnel and family members (in other words, they would send me back to the states…or wherever, for free), but I don’t want to deal with all that. Getting through customs was enough of a hassle even with Ryan helping me. However, if Ryan weren’t so “essential” we might just get out of here for a while.
But our apartment is fantastic—I’ve never had such a great view (okay, the mountains in Pickens are great, but I mean a view from my own place…where I pay the bills. Actually, we don’t pay the bills here, but you know what I mean). At least I can survey the visibility with pretty good accuracy because, when all is clear, we can see for quite a few miles. I love the hardwood floors, the fancy tiling in the bathrooms and kitchen, and I actually really like the classy furniture. Some foreign service people complain about the dark stuffiness of it, but I think it suits me well. There is so much more to say, but this entry is way too long as it is. I think many other anecdotes and challenges we’ve faced in the past week (and will continue to face, I’m sure) deserve their own post. Stay tuned for stories about grocery stores (and prices), the sometimes dark orange bathwater, Russian “fashion,” Gorky Park, Farmer’s Markets, our neighbor friends Joe and Hind, ordering from Papa John’s Pizza.ru, my inevitable job hunt, figure skating at the mall, and my lack of Russian language skillz.
