Week Four - "cake" and Kristin Cavalleri

Fourth week kicked off with a trip to Woodstock to give a presentation to the Rotary Club there. As usual, I had a fabulous time (and unusually, I managed not to throw food on anyone during dinner). The next day, we had a class tour of New College which has been around since 1379 (they filmed parts of Harry Potter and James Bond there). Besides the beautiful castle-like buildings and chapel filled with medieval stained glass and carved wooden seats, they also have a famous Mound in the gardens where, if you stand in a certain spot and clap, you'll hear the Mound quack back at you. Sounds silly, I know, but it's just so bizarre and surprising and kinda neat when it happens, that you end up standing there for a while, clapping to yourself. (Apparently you can't clap to yourself for too long though, as security is serious about Mound protection... not that I would know or anything...)

Yes, this is the Mound. Only fellows of the college are allowed to climb the steps...

On Wednesday, we went to the Vic to help Kevin, Will's friend, ring in his birthday with some brews. And on Thursday, I went to an exchange dinner at St. Anne's College. What their College lacked in beauty (it was new, like Linacre), it made up for with a fine salmon dinner and unlimited wine. After dinner, as is custom, everyone retired to a special room for teeny-tiny glasses of port -- it's so Oxford. Then, on Friday, our whole crew went to Kevin's house to really celebrate his birthday. I attempted to bake a cake (basically, it looked like a cake and frosting container exploded all over the pan) and Will got Kev a poster of his fav American lady, Kristin Cavalleri. Sadly, The Hills has also infected England. The rest of the evening was spent laughing, playing Spoons, and taking pictures with Kristin posing in various locations around the house.

On Friday, Linacre had a Valentine's Day Kink Bop (you can just imagine the costumes for this one) that I attended, and then we celebrated Valentine's Day on Sunday with an amazing dinner at Brasserie Blanc and some dessert at G-n-D's. All in all, another fabulous week in Oxford...

Week Three - punked, Medea-style.

One of my classmates invited a group of us over for lunch on Monday for a traditional Pakistani meal. His wife must have been cooking for days, because there were like 8 different dishes waiting for us (you can see some in the pic below)...

Having never eaten anything like this, I was psyched to dig in. Everything was amazing, until I ravenously chomped down on what I thought was a big olive. When my mouth started to burn like the fire of 1,000 suns, my face turned beat red, my nose spontaneously started to run, and my eyes started to stream tears, I realized it was not an olive. I had chomped down into my first hardcore exotic pepper. I frantically looked around for water, a napkin, anything to stop the burning sensation without causing a commotion that would alert my hosts to my wimpy tolerance for spices. Nothing could hide the faucet-like reflexes of my nose and eyes though. One of my classmates saw, but thankfully attributed the tears to those of joy at finally having some home-cooking: 'Look', she said, 'Vanessa is so happy she's crying!' At that point my mouth had started to numb, so she was partially right.

On Wednesday we had another crew dinner, this time at Chutney, an Indian restaurant. Having learned from my earlier pepper incident, I made sure to ask the waiter for the mildest dish on the menu. The chicken korma I got was amazing, and I was able to both feel my mouth and remain tear- and snot-free. Success!

On Thursday, a group of us went to see Medea at the Oxford Playhouse. Never have I been so baffled by theater. When the actors busted out harmonicas in the first scene, I was concerned, but was willing to overlook the strange musical honky-tonk number thinking that maybe my naive theater tastes weren't sophisticated enough to get the brilliance of this modern Medea. However, when the harmonicas were joined by the keyboard (being played like Ross on Friends, one strange note at a time), cymbals, and (no joke) an electric guitar, I started to look around for reality-tv cameras. We were being punked. Others felt similar pain... as one reviewer put it: "It seemed to bring out a comedic aspect to Medea that I had never before appreciated and am quite sure shouldn't be there. I think it's somewhat cruel to pick out any other aspects for paticular recognition as there was no detail that did not add to the horror." Oh Medea, harmonicas just aint your thang.

The one and only set. See the cymbals on the right?

On Friday night, we went to a fundraising "uniform party" for Unicef, so everyone came in some sort-of uniform costume (or "fancy dress" as they call it here). The pic below is a bunch of my lady friends, mostly dressed as schoolgirls (the easiest fancy dress to put together), with one cheerleader thrown in. (Cheerleading costumes are tough to find because, alas, cheerleading is only a US thing! Who knew.) One of my favorite things about this town is that there is a costume party -- aka bop -- basically every weekend ... it's like Halloween 52 times a year. My personal heaven.

Then on Saturday night, we went to a prosecco/gamenight at a friend's place for some Apples-to-Apples madness. I thought I loved Taboo, but Apples-to-Apples makes Taboo look like Medea. Long story short, it's a game where everyone writes down their responses for categories like "Things you don't say on a plane" and then you guess who wrote what. As you can imagine, the responses get more and more outrageous as the night (and prosecco drinking) wears on... we were laughing so hard that we got noise complaints, and I'm fairly certain at least one person peed their pants.

Week Two - climbing the modeling chain, one wink at a time.

On Monday, we hopped on a bus to Stratford Upon Avon to see the Royal Shakespeare Company perform Arabian Nights. We had dinner at the Vintner restaurant beforehand (see pic below)...

checked out the adorable city (with architecture as it was when Shakespeare was there), and then headed to the theater. It was very likely the best play I've ever seen -- captivating story, great acting, creative sets. We left the theater in awe, and decided that we are definitely going to go back for their next show.

Tuesday and Wednesday were filled with schoolwork. Yes, although I don't often mention it, I am doing a lot of coursework, and even had an exam on Monday. I omit a lot of this as it might be, oh, just a tad bit boring to hear how I sat in the library for 6 hours writing an essay and (let's be honest) checking facebook, all while covertly eating a turkey sandwich that I had smuggled in via coat pocket. Also on Wednesday, I brought Will to yoga class. I actually snorted out loud while stifling laughter as the instructor, who took quite a shine to our Will, attempted to push Will's arms and legs into the correct position for downward dog. I was so proud of Will's efforts. It was all for naught though, as when he woke up the next morning and couldn't move his legs, he decided his yoga career was over.

On Thursday, we headed to Bookbinders, an adorable super-old pub, to play some cards. And on Friday, we hit the Ashmolean Museum to check out their paintings and exhibits (the violin exhibit for Will, and the jewelry exhibit for me). This was the closest thing to a 'shopping trip' that I've had since the Bicester Village incident of 2009. I think Will thought it was safe to take me somewhere that I could stare at the jewelry without being able to purchase it. Smart man. Also on Friday, I went to a dinner party where we ate pasta and played boardgames, and then headed to the Living Room and Purple Turtle (think loud pop music and sticky floors - classy!), two legendary Oxford hangouts. On Saturday, I went to Open Mic Night at the CR. I wish I had a talent to contribute to the show, but I don't think karaoke singing, cup flipping, or planner staring -- three of my strengths -- would qualify, so I merely observed. I missed the Aussie Bop that night because I just didn't have the strength to conjure up a kangaroo or koala costume. It's tough creating bop-attire every weekend!

And finally, on Sunday, I decided to audition to walk the runway in Oxford Fashion Week. When I saw the ad that said the designers were looking for a few students to hit the runway in pretty couture dresses, I just couldn't resist. This could be my big break! or not. After they took head-shots and full-body shots, they asked me to do a little runway walk, but having no real clue on how, I strode out there as if I was in an interview, being sure to make good eye contact with each of the designers. I may have even winked at the end pose. 'Um, yeah' sayeth head judge, 'could you maybe do that again, and this time when you walk, just stare at the wall?' Probably not a good sign. But, I lived my modeling dream for those 45 seconds! Look out Ms. Klum; Big V is ready to wink-walk her way to the top.

So, later, I drowned my failed-modeling-attempt sorrows over a pint and curry at Far From the Madding Crowd for Quiz Night. Team 'Quizlamic Jihad' (a name conjured up by our witty Lebanese friend Yas) was equally a disaster. Despite our mediocre performance though, we had a blast. Curry, cards, quizzing -- what a great way to spend a Sunday with friends.

Week One Hilary Term - Dad v. The Iguanas and My Quizzle, Fo Shizzle

Week One was packed - Let the Hilary Term madness begin! Where to start...

Rowing: The Isis water level was still too high to row (likely from the feet of slushy snow that fell over the holidays) so training consisted of doing some form of painful (yet strangely satisfying) indoor workout, every day. Monday was yoga. (The contorted positions the teacher had us perform resulted in me seeing my body in a whole new light - i.e. as I rolled into the ball he commanded, with my knees hugging my head and my face inches from my butt, I decided it was time to give up ice cream. No one's face should ever be that close to their butt. No good can come from that.) Tuesday was circuits. (I've described this before, so I'll spare you the tales of what it feels like after that 18th burpee -- a masochistic jumping/pushup move -- when you think your heart will explode.) Wednesday was more yoga and butt staring. Thursday was erging. (i.e. 20 to 30 minutes on the rowing machine, pulling as hard as possible, again with the heart-exploding feeling.) The only comfort I found from this one was discovering that my butt actually does not have enough padding on it to happily erg, as, during this exercise, I bruised my butt. So, two lessons from the erg: (1) I can continue to eat ice cream, and (2) it is possible to bruise a butt. Friday was jogging through the pretty park next door. Saturday was weights. (David, the rowing coach, after seeing my split time on the erg -- 2:20, which pales in comparison to my more muscle-y teammates whose quads are bigger than my waist -- was like, 'um, yeah, vanessa...we're gonna need you to lift some weights.') David devised a game plan for me with the machines, and I pumped iron that day until I couldn't feel my legs. I basically crawled back to the dorm. I think I'm well on my way to yet another MIP award.

Non-Rowing: On Monday, we had "mojito's" in the CR. (I use quotes, as none of the "mojito's" I've had in Oxford resemble the Miami mojito, aside from being served in a glass.) Still though, it was a nice 'welcome back to Oxford' via mojito event planned by Linacre. On Wednesday, we played some card at Kevin's, and I was once again reminded why I don't play cards for money. We had a blast though hanging out with this crew of friends (Kevin, Ben, Mark, Anna, and Yas) who has really turned out to be one of the reasons we're so in love with Oxford. On Thursday, I had a formal dinner with my advisor and her other advisees at Linacre. She shared stories of her husband's battle with the squirrels that devour the seeds in their birdfeeder, and I was able to reciprocate by regaling them with the tales of my dad's battle with the South Florida iguana population (explained below, for those of you with interest in Dad v. The Iguanas: Deathmatch. Think Under Seige, revisited).

Warning, long sidenote: For those of you that don't know, Dad Sisti has actually tried hanging garlic from the trees -- even though I assured him that only scared away vampires -- and has wrapped the trees in our lawn with sheets of tin in an attempt to stop the iguanas from climbing them. As you can imagine, our lawn looks quite interesting now to passersby. When that didn't work though, he smeared the tin with what looks like iguana blood. I thought he was trying to scare the iguanas away with the blood of their ancestors, but no, he assures me that it's just grease so that the little buggers will slip during their climbing attempts. Oh Dad. He has also tried flushing them out of the drainpipes with water hoses, and now, in a last ditch attempt to run them out, has even used, [gasp], chlorine! Extreme measures, I know. He says it's either him or them. He's turned our yard into Caddyshack.

On Friday, we had a crew dinner with the rowing club from another college, and then went to St. Anthony's college for a bop. On Saturday, we had another dinner with the students at Linacre at the Big Bang, hit Raoul's for some cocktails, and then a house party. On Sunday, I skipped out on Ceilidh Scottish Dancing in the dining hall to head to Gardener's Arms for quiz night. The highlights of the evening included our crucial discussion over the team name (contenders included Jizzle My Quizzle and New Quiz on the Block, with the actual team name being blog inappropriate), our formerly second-place team being relegated to last place for improperly scoring a competitor's score sheet, and Will and Mark trying to ride one bike home.

And now, a few pictures for your viewing pleasure:

The snow is gone, but the frost remains.

This is my walk through the park.

We wanted to get some flowers to make our dorm room more homey.

These are mine, still fighting after 2 weeks.

And these are Will's.

Clearly, they have totally given up.