Amid all the exciting outings and wonderful people we’ve met, it would be difficult to narrow it down to a favorite day. Yet this past weekend just might take the cake for the loveliest that we’ve spent in England yet. Where to begin? I suppose our weekend’s adventures started Friday afternoon. We had signed up to go punting and really wanted to make sure we fit it in before the term ended (because when we sign up with the JCR, Junior Common Room, we can use the boats for free), but the weather didn’t look like it was going to cooperate. Peering through the library windows, we tried to guess whether the rain was coming or going, and finally decided to venture out and take our chances. As it turns out, perhaps it was good that it was such a bleak and damp afternoon, because that meant only the geese were there to chuckle at our antics as our punt turned and lunged in all imaginable, unwieldy directions. Punting sounds so graceful: elegantly poling one’s way down the river with a picnic lunch on a nice sunny day. Such was not us. The sixteen foot long aluminum pole is rather more difficult to maneuver than it looks. Especially when it’s slippery, wet, and cold. And when you are bouncing from bank to bank of the river, running into every possible obstacle and having to duck under tree branches (still holding onto the 16 ft. pole, mind you). Even if not the most refined punting ride, it was quite the entertaining one, and we disembarked damp, but with many a good laugh.
Amid all the exciting outings and wonderful people we’ve met, it would be difficult to narrow it down to a favorite day. Yet this past weekend just might take the cake for the loveliest that we’ve spent in England yet. Where to begin? I suppose our weekend’s adventures started Friday afternoon. We had signed up to go punting and really wanted to make sure we fit it in before the term ended (because when we sign up with the JCR, Junior Common Room, we can use the boats for free), but the weather didn’t look like it was going to cooperate. Peering through the library windows, we tried to guess whether the rain was coming or going, and finally decided to venture out and take our chances. As it turns out, perhaps it was good that it was such a bleak and damp afternoon, because that meant only the geese were there to chuckle at our antics as our punt turned and lunged in all imaginable, unwieldy directions. Punting sounds so graceful: elegantly poling one’s way down the river with a picnic lunch on a nice sunny day. Such was not us. The sixteen foot long aluminum pole is rather more difficult to maneuver than it looks. Especially when it’s slippery, wet, and cold. And when you are bouncing from bank to bank of the river, running into every possible obstacle and having to duck under tree branches (still holding onto the 16 ft. pole, mind you). Even if not the most refined punting ride, it was quite the entertaining one, and we disembarked damp, but with many a good laugh.
In the evening, we went to New College for Evensong. The chapel was gorgeous and the polyphony was beautiful.
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| House where Shakespeare was born |
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| Holy Trinity Church, where Shakespeare was baptized and buried |
Saturday morning, bright and early, we strolled down to the train station to embark for our Stratford-Upon-Avon adventure. The country side slipped by, with its vibrant green meadows criss-crossed with darker green hedges, and soon we were in Stratford, touring the house where Shakespeare was born. We also visited his daughter’s house, the site where they are excavating the house he bought when he returned from London at the end of his life, and Holy Trinity Church, where he and his family are buried. It was incredible to think that we were strolling the streets that he would have when growing up, and also that so many other great literary figures had previously visited the same place with the same purpose as we had, to visit the home of one of the greatest geniuses of the English language. (Charles Dickens, for example, was instrumental in working to have the buildings preserved for the public.) On our way to Anne Hathaway’s cottage, we walked through some fields and residential areas, passing gardens with bright strawberries and children playing in wellies. The thatched-roof cottage with its colorful flower bed in front was quite charming.
After having a scrumptious cream tea, we headed over the Royal Shakespeare Company Theatre. Their performance of Richard III was phenomenal! Richard is such a conniving, malicious, perverted character, and the actor did an incredible job portraying him. There is this one scene towards the beginning where he is wooing Lady Anne (whose husband and father-in-law he has killed). Reading the play, it seemed hard to believe: how could it be possible for her to be in the least sympathetic towards him? But the actors were really able to capture the full range of emotions and make the story come alive. And the small band of instrumentalists above the stage most definitely added to the drama.
Since the performance ended later in the night, there were no more buses or trains going back to Oxford that day, so we ended up spending the night in a youth hostel – an unexpected adventure (neither Beatriz and I had stayed at a hostel before). But it worked well; after a full day of traveling, falling asleep was easy, and we got to be roommates again for the night!
The bus ride back to Oxford on Sunday morning took us through numerous small country villages, where the houses were all still centered around the church steeple, piercing the sky above the gentle folds of the pasture lands. We made it back in perfect time to go to the Latin Mass at the Oratory. The singing was gorgeous and the homily was beautiful: it was about how, like in the Corpus Christi procession, we are called to be monstrances bringing Christ to the world. After Mass, Bernhardt, Sean, Aaron and Heinrich invited us to join them for lunch. It was a treat to follow the “locals” to a favorite eating place, and even more so to enjoy their friendly company.
The Corpus Christi procession was wonderful! It began at the Oratory, stopped at Blackfriars for a sermon by the Bishop, and finished at the University Chaplaincy with Benediction. Fr. Daniel led the praying of the Rosary through a megaphone, and a small band played the hymns with us, which was quite helpful in keeping the crowd (of probably around 200 people) in time! As we processed through the streets of Oxford, passersby with puzzled looks stopped to watch and take pictures.
After the procession, Genevieve invited us to an afternoon tea party at the Rowlands. They are the personification of generous hosts! Mr. Rowland, whom we had not even met before, went out of his way to pick us up at the Chaplaincy. Mrs. Rowland was at the door, welcoming us into their charming English home. As we stepped inside the cozy, low-ceilinged dining room, people were gathered around the kitchen table with a very generous teapot, plates of sandwiches, tiered dishes with cupcakes, scones, and biscuits, bowls of fruit, carrot cake, and a multitude of tea cups – I’ve never seen so many in one house. Genevieve and Theresa cheerfully bustling about the kitchen, bringing forth a seemingly endless supply of daintily prepared, tasty morsels to accompany the jolly conversations. It was beyond lovely! Before we left, we took a quick peek at Theresa’s pristine rose garden, the fragrant blossoms flourishing next to wizened apple trees.
All the memories of this idyllic weekend – what treasures!
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