Since my last blog, which was regrettably a while ago, I have had a few more adventures involving a ruined abbey, the capital of Wales, the most studied woodland in the world, and one of the greatest stately homes in England.

Cardiff and Tintern Abbey

Last Saturday I took another bus trip with the same guide who so capably escorted us around the Cotswolds and Stratford a month ago. I must quickly digress and remark on the inexplicably hurried pace at which my first month in England has flown by. It still seems like just last week that I was sitting in the terminal at Heathrow with that giddy smile on my face. A month may have gone, but thankfully the smile has not. Also thankfully, I never had the awful “culture shock” experience that the travel advisors at Guelph warned me of. I hope I am not jinxing it, but I have been so busy enjoying this beautiful city and the beautiful country, that the depression and homesickness that was supposed to befall me has been forcibly suppressed and replaced by elation and excitement instead. Anyhow, it has been a month since my last formal bus trip, so I jumped at the chance to spend a day in Wales visiting Tintern Abbey and Cardiff with some of my fellow foreigners. We caught the bus at 8:30 in the morning in Headington and arrived at our first destination, Tintern Abbey, around 10:15. As I mentioned previously, there is nothing better than getting up with the sun and having a completely full day of travel. Best of all, was that on this particular Welsh morning, the fog was as thick as Habitant pea soup, and as we exited the bus at Tintern Abbey, the sight was truly something to behold. The physical setting of the abbey is spectacular in its own right, perched on the banks of the River Wye and bordered by towering, forested valley hills. Add the smoky cloud of fog that enshrouded the ruins and muffled the sound of voices, the grass dripping with dew, the moss clinging to the stone walls, and the lonesome song of a solitary bird, and the atmosphere became powerfully and tangibly mystical. Needless to say, we were all in awe of the setting and the spectacular ruin that in some places was nothing more than a few stone walls, but in others still displayed the prominent Gothic stonework of its heyday.

Tintern Abbey

After Tintern Abbey we drove for another hour or so and arrived at the capital city of Wales – Cardiff – around lunch time. We had until 4:45 to explore the city, and my flat-mate Devin and I decided that we wanted to see the bay – he because he had yet to see the “coast” and the ocean, and I because I had heard that the bay was an interesting study in urban revival, a transformation of an industrial port to a shopping and restaurant district. We took the train down to the bay, because the city centre of Cardiff is separated from the bay by a distance too far to walk given our short window of exploration time. We found our way to the water’s edge and wandered around Roald Dahl’s Plass (a plaza named after Welshman, and childhood favourite, Roald Dahl). The fog had followed us from Tintern Abbey, and we could hardly see 10 metres out to sea so we decided to have lunch and wait for the fog to lift. And that it did. As we ate we sat at a second floor window and watched from our table as the receding fog slowly revealed more and more of the bay that had been completely invisible an hour before. It is a very nice waterfront area, and the piece de resistance is the Millennium Centre building.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wales_Millennium_Centre

It is absolutely spectacular. I am not always a fan of some of the modern, minimal statement buildings in architecture, but this building is fantastic. The bluish-silver slate walls, built with Welsh slate are beautiful, but the obvious centre piece is the copper-clad facade with the engraving that reads “Creu Gwir Fel Gwydr O Ffwrnais Awen” in Welsh, which means “In These Stones Horizons Sing” in English. It’s quite an evocative and hopeful line, and very appropriate for a building that is so celebratory.

Cardiff and Tintern Abbey was an overwhelmingly successful day-trip and the small taste of Wales that I got has left me wanting more. My ideal plan is to hike the Pembrokeshire Coast path in May, and see some of the Welsh seaside, and after a day in Wales I am determined to make it happen.

The Bay: pre-lunch

The Bay: post-lunch

Millennium Centre

Millennium Centre facade

Cardiff city centre

My Countryside Ramble

On the Tuesday following my Welsh excursion I decided to finally venture forth into the countryside by myself for a day-long wander. Armed with my hiking shoes and my trusty walking map of Oxford and the surrounding area I headed out. The Brits really do have a thing for walking, and I love it. Because that means the Brits have a thing for creating walking maps, maps that are invaluable to foreign invaders like me. The Ordnance Survey has mapped all of the UK and these maps are incredibly thorough, showing the typical things like roads, railways etc. but also showing National Trust sites (including gardens!), Roman ruins, quarries, waterfalls, lookout points, and most importantly pedestrian rights of way. The green dotted lines that criss-cross the maps of England are a testament to British walkers and it is amazing how far one can go without following any roads. I only wish Canada had a similar model. The point is though, that I walked for basically an entire day and was walking next to roads for maybe half an hour in total, it was marvelous.

My destination on this gloriously sunny Tuesday was Wytham Woods, the woodland owned and managed by Oxford University. It’s like Oxford’s version of the Arboretum, and as soon as I heard of it, and saw that it was well within walking distance, I resolved that that would be my first adventure. I followed the Oxford Canal out of town for most of the morning. Most sections are quite picturesque, with lovely gardens edging the canal that is lined with riverboats, many of which are evocative of the washer woman’s boat in Kenneth Grahame’s The Wind in the Willows (I watched the whole movie on YouTube last week, I forgot how much I loved it). After following the canal for what seemed like eternity, I pulled out my map and realized that I had slightly over-shot my exit, but it was a minor miscue and soon I was on course again. I passed through the villages of Wolvercote and then the pretty hamlet of Wytham before staggering up a hill to the woods and finding a very welcoming bench to sit on. I soon realized that I needed a permit to enter the woods since Oxford students and faculty use the forest to conduct experiments in ecology, climate, zoology etc. so I went into the sawmill building and luckily one of the English woodsmen said I could wander around and apply for a permit when I got back home. How these guys got the job that allows them to spend all day in the woods I would really like to know. There’s nothing I would enjoy more.

Oxford Canal

The walk was lovely. I walked a great big loop, eventually terminating at Botley, a suburb in outer Oxford. Although it was spring-like in temperature, there are still no leaves on the trees here, but it did little to minimize the beauty of the walk. The trail winds through dense forest, pastures filled with sheep (another welcome reminder of home), and clearings with spectacular views to the city. I found another bench to rest, looking out on to one of the clearings with its blazing gold grasses, solitary oaks and scrubby saplings shooting up in the sunlight. Snowdrops and daffodils offered cheerful specks of colour, bobbing in the cool breeze among the otherwise somber landscape, and the overall effect made me quite pensive and calm. I sat for an hour or so and very reluctantly got to my feet and began my downhill trek towards the city. There were some incredible views on the walk back as I passed through more of the rolling Oxfordshire hills and before long I was back in the noise and concrete of the suburbs. As you may have surmised, I will be returning to my woods as often as possible as soon as I get my permit.

Thatched cottage in Wytham

My new friends

My future home

The clearing

Well it’s been over a week, so I figure I owe you one.

I would like to assure you that I am going to school here, and contrary to my blog I am not just romping around Oxford willy-nilly (although I go wandering so frequently I’m worried I’m going to be seen as a drifter soon), so I will now give a brief summary of my classes. Unfortunately there are no pictures to accompany this entry, but I may post some stand-alone images just to keep you happy. I must appease the masses.

Museums and Society
You can tell a lot about my classes simply by their title. This one is about ... museums and the role they play in society. It is an art history course, and judging by the first two weeks, it is mostly populated by art history majors. The class is one of the largest I have, but large at Brookes means 60 or so (as opposed to large classes at Guelph that push 300). So far the content has been interesting. We have discussed museum architecture, and how the concept of a museum (ie. showing off your collection of stuff) came to be. The most promising thing about the class is the prospect of visits. I have already been to the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford twice, and we are required to visit the Pitt Rivers Museum (also in Oxford) as well as the National Gallery, the British Museum, Victoria and Albert Museum, the Tate Modern, and the Museum of Natural History (all in London). So, I’m understandably excited. As for the course work, it consists of two essays: one discussing a room in a museum and the way it has been curated, and the other discussing what museums are for.

Oxford Buildings
This is the course that has inspired the most jealousy among my friends here. The class is small, only 20 people or so, and although technically an art history course (I’m not an art history major I swear) the content has ranged from art to architecture to urban planning to history in the first two weeks. The buildings in question will be mostly university buildings, but occasionally we will discuss city buildings like the Oxford Castle, and non-university institutions. So far we have covered the Medieval period of the university, and the early colleges. The school really does have a fascinating history. In the Medieval period, bishops from around England were the main founders of the colleges partly because they were interested in training clerics, and partly because they were rich. To clarify, a college is a building or group of buildings that consisted of a library, a chapel, residences, sometimes an armoury (for valuables), and a great hall. So these bishops would found a college (ie the Bishop of Rochester, Walter de Merton, founded Merton College) under the premise that founding a college means you spend less time in purgatory after death. Yup. So the deal was that people figured out that you could never live your life totally free of sin (shocking revelation), so no matter what, you would end up in purgatory after you died. BUT, if you were a rich bishop, you could get a purgatory discount and stay there for a shorter time if you built a college with a chapel where people could pray for your soul. Selfless men these bishops were not. So, in summary, Oxford has some of the most beautiful Medieval buildings in England because a few rich guys didn’t want to spend too long in purgatory. Post-Medieval, and post-Reformation Oxford became more of a citizen institution where lay-people would found colleges for the interests of academics, not just as a get out of jail free card. Course work in this class is an essay on a certain building (I chose the Radcliffe Camera) worth 50%, and a picture exam worth 50%. Best of all, we get a signed letter from our professor that allows us free entry into the colleges which all the other riff-raff would have to pay to see.

Sport and the Modern City

Another pretty self-explanatory course title. This class is another fairly large one and is made up of planning students and coaching students. Apparently “coaching” is a major at Brookes and it’s pretty obvious who the coaching students are, and who the planning students are. Our teacher is a towering Brit who apparently played professional rugby back in the day. That may explain why he walks with a slight limp. He seems like a nice enough guy, just don’t show up late, because he will stop his lecture mid-sentence to admonish your tardiness. He does this to every late person so during the first five minutes of his lecture you hear more “please be on time” than actual subject matter. It takes him 5 minutes to complete a sentence. Come to think of it, he’s kind of grumpy but I haven’t been one of the stragglers yet, and I don’t plan on it. The course work for this class is an essay proposal with an annotated bibliography, and an essay writing about a sports venue. So basically, one essay will decide my mark. Good thing it’s an interesting subject. I’ve chosen to discuss the All England Lawn and Tennis Club and the Wimbledon tennis complex in the London suburbs. This means I am required to go and take a tour, perhaps multiple tours. If my selection of courses are an accurate microcosm of the English university system (and I don’t think they are), the profs have the easiest jobs ever. They can just let their students loose all over England on field trips and call it “teaching”. What a great gig.

Gaia: The Earth as a Living System
My final course is the one class without a field trip component. But still 3 out 4 isn’t bad. This class is another small, seminar style one with only 12 or 13 students. This is the biggest “thinker” of all my classes. My three other classes are fairly straightforward. I am learning new content, but none of it has been or looks to be revolutionary or exceptionally challenging. But that all goes out the window of my second floor classroom on Friday afternoons when I sit down and try to make sense of Gaia: The Earth as a Living System. Gaia Theory was the theory championed by Dr James Lovelock, a British chemist who worked with NASA before becoming a sort of “maverick” scientist, conducting experiments from his home lab instead of being restrained by the scientific establishment. The story is long, but in a nutshell, Lovelock (after conducting numerous experiments, and consulting volumes of data) hypothesized that the Earth is a great living organism that regulates its own temperature and keeps conditions on the planet optimal for all of life (of which humans are part). One of the best pieces of evidence for the theory was that since life began on Earth, the Sun has steadily increased its heat output yet Earth’s temperature has remained stable. Lovelock thought that the biota (aka the sum of all life on Earth) through was the regulating factor. He now predicts apocalyptic destruction in the near future for humanity because we have so altered the atmosphere and biosphere that regulate the temperature of the planet. The problem with the theory is that scientists basically ignored it for years, dismissing it as “radical hippie nonsense” and it is not without its critics even today. 

So, this class is making us learn both the intricacies of the theory (which involves some complex biology, physics and chemistry knowledge that I simply do not possess) and also learning the criticisms of the theory. We have to evaluate the critics and come up with an idea of how “Gaia sees the world”. This is the core of our assessment as we are tasked with writing an “Awakenings Journal” that outlines our process of thinking, and learning how to think like a planet. It is very abstract, very complicated, and verys, very hard to fully comprehend, especially when the literature is discussing the great guessing game that is the origin of life. That said, I think it’s my favourite class. I had heard of the theory beforehand, which is why I chose the course. I think the theory is an important one in that it forces us to loosen our stranglehold on how we conventionally view the planet. It forces us to ask deep questions, and it forces us to really think about how we humans interact with the rest of life on Earth. The theory is asking a lot of us, it is not perfect or without controversy, and it makes bold statements, offering no apologies. But I think its potential outweighs its problems or audaciousness. I’m often compelled after reading some of the course texts to write about the theory (which makes the diary assignment fairly easy), so a blog on the subject may be forthcoming.

I think it promises to be an interesting semester, and although the course list hardly resembles anything close to a conventional BLA timetable, I think there is value in each class that can be applied to landscape architecture. Sometimes it’s good to break away from convention for a bit.

For those interested in Gaia Theory, take a gander:

Also, a side note: the BBC has amazing programming. Top Gear obviously sets the bar high, but other shows like Wonders of Life, and The Planners (which is hilarious, Guelph people know what I mean) are great too. It's a pity it's unavailable online anywhere outside the UK.

In case you had forgotten, I am a landscape architecture student. And although most of my courses here are only distantly relevant to my degree, that won’t stop me from commenting on English landscape issues. Here is my impression of some of the Oxford College quadrangles.

With the exception of some of the smaller colleges, with a more intimate sense of scale (like Jesus College for example), the quadrangle landscapes (specifically at St. John’s College and All Souls College), which consist of stone pathways encircling perfect geometrically defined areas of immaculate turf, are uncomfortable spaces and send a message that is no longer in keeping with the ideals of academia.

Walking through the quads, or even around the perimeter of the courtyards for that matter, you feel uncomfortably contained by imposing walls and it really makes one feel very small and apprehensive. The turf lawns emphasize the monumental and grandiose architecture of the colleges. Granted, they accomplish this goal very well, there is nothing to visually distract from the buildings. But the role of landscape is so much more than the “setting” for even the grandest of buildings. I think that the colleges, which are admittedly architecturally spectacular, could have been made to look even better had some creativity and spontaneity been employed in the surroundings. However, at Oxford, the buildings take such priority that it actually negatively impacts the experience of the visitor and I would guess, the students who reside there. There is no opportunity for interaction whatsoever – the lawns are to be looked at and nothing more. Walking on them is strictly prohibited and heaven forbid a picnic or game of frisbee. I think the world may end. The pathways are circuitous and designed to take you from corridor to corridor, there are neither benches, nor ledges for sitting. Perhaps that was the intent, perhaps it was a conscious choice that the landscape was going to be used only to convey a strong, painfully coherent message. Perhaps it was meant as a statement, and wasn’t intended to be pretty or interesting. If you ask me, it’s time it changed.

Part of the problem with conserving historical landscapes is that you run the risk of, as time passes, preserving and maintaining something even when it is no longer culturally relevant. I think this has happened with some of Oxford’s quads. In my opinion, the landscape of an educational institution should be one that reflects and encourages learning. In Canada there is an increasing movement to “green” schoolyards in order for students to interact with their environment and provide an outlet for their rampant curiosity. I see no reason why this can not happen at higher educational institutions as well. But in Oxford, the quads have been preserved in a condition that is (again, in my opinion) inappropriate for a university. The way I see it, the quads symbolize superiority, autocratic authority, elitism, exclusion, subjugation, and monotony. They emphasize human feats (the buildings) while minimizing nature to nothing more than a pathetic monoculture (the lawns) that is routinely stunted (mown). They restrict spontaneity, curiosity and interaction and encourage conformity. Those who threaten nonconformity (ie dandelions) are quickly and ruthlessly evicted. None of these are qualities that a contemporary university like Oxford strives to emulate. But the fact remains that the campus of a school is seen as a reflection of the institution’s character and mission, and the quads are no longer fulfilling that role.

Thankfully for St. John’s College, it boasts an expansive and charming garden at the end of the second quad. As I stepped through the tunnel my pace slowed and I was back in the realm that I enjoy so much. All of a sudden, gone was the air of pomp and circumstance, gone was the apprehension, and gone were the haunting echoing of my lonesome footsteps rattling off the stone walls. This was a marked contrast and although you still weren’t allowed to walk on the grass (this is England after all), the garden had been noticeably designed for visitors keen on relaxing and enjoying a moment of solace. There were benches, birds singing, and snowdrops in bloom. It may not be quite to the North American level of interaction (we are allowed to walk on the grass, and climb the trees in our parks), but the garden is a much better example of what an academic landscape should be: something that stimulates the mind and encourages wonderment, contemplation, discovery and curiosity.

If I can make an analogy, the Quad is like a respected elder statesman, properly dressed and groomed, but also uptight, and insufferably pompous. The Garden meanwhile is the Quad’s estranged hippie sister who everyone likes better. She is dynamic, carefree, and greets everyone with a smile, with hair a wild, gnarled mess and clothes mismatched and torn.

Now, this is only my opinion, and I don’t mean to deter anyone from visiting the quadrangles for themselves. They are after all, quite a tourist magnet, and other people (perhaps those with a fetish for nice lawns) may think they are the most beautiful places they’ve ever seen, and that is fine. For me (with my vendetta against lawns), and especially now that I have been cursed by my education, I can’t look at them and see a building with a lawn, so I have taken something very different from them. You may agree and you may disagree freely.

St John's College: front quadrangle

Front quadrangle

St John's College: Canterbury quadrangle

Canterbury quadrangle

St. John's College gardens

Gardens

Gardens

Gardens and shed

Gardens

All Souls College: front quadrangle

All Souls College: north quadrangle

Well, the English lived up to their reputed frenetic fanaticism for football (a little alliteration always brightens my day). As a side note, I can no longer call it ‘soccer’. It feels phonetically strange to say, like it’s some new word I’m learning. So to avoid embarrassment and potential shunning, I just go with football now. Anyhow, on that note, Friday was the Oxford vs Oxford Brookes football game, and it lived up to its billing. Predictably we lost, but rather unpredictably, was the wit and rowdiness that gripped our fans throughout the debacle of a game. When the final whistle blew, the scoreboard read 5-2 for Oxford, but if the decision had been based on fan support instead of goals, it would have been a convincing victory for Brookes. Of particular note was the raucous group of gentlemen in the far corner of our side of the stadium. Henceforward they will be known as the Fan-boys. Whether they were slightly inebriated or not could not be conclusively verified, but if so, they were remarkably witty drunks. Here is a sampling of their taunting material. I apologize for the language, reader discretion advised:

-          “You’re gonna lose the boat race!” The ‘boat race’ being the historic regatta between Cambridge and Oxford

-          “Does your butler know you’re here?”

-          “Will your chauffeur pick you up?”

-          “You’re up past your bedtime”

-          “Is this the fucking library?” Oxford fans were quiet

-          “Can you hear Oxford sing? I can’t hear a fucking thing” Like I said, they were quiet

-          “You only sing when you’re winning” When they finally stopped being quiet, that was worthy of harassment too

-          “You only have five fans” A minor exaggeration, but nobody’s perfect

** There were other taunts, but in the interest of good taste and for the sake of my audience, they have been omitted. Those who are more interested may ask me in person.

I should point out that these taunts were all sung, not merely chanted. We aren’t cave-men. Other notable moments included:

-          - When, down 3-0, the Fan-boys decided to pretend we had scored. Following a countdown from 10, they erupted and started dancing and singing, all while the game was in progress.

-          - When Brookes took to passing the ball with surprising precision (a move that would have been helpful when the score was 0-0 instead of 4-1) and the Fan-boys started singing “It’s just like watching Brazil”.

-          - When the score had grown to 5-2 and our chances were finally and convincingly dashed, (even though the Fan-boys were singing “We’re gonna win 6-5!”), the boys yelled for Oxford to start the wave, which they happily did. It reverberated along the stands for a few blissful moments (NOTHING beats the wave) and when it finally died, the Fan-boys yelled “You only do what we tell you”.

-          - The “Stand up if you love Brookes” chant (we all stood up and clapped, to the enjoyment of the Brookes benchwarmers), followed soon after by the “Shoes off if you love Brookes” chant (we all waved our shoes in the air, again to the enjoyment of the benchwarmers who were trying, and failing, to look serious)

And finally, what good is a football game without a streaker? Yes indeed, one of the Fan-boys took it upon himself to make a naked statement and after careening over/through the security fence (he didn’t clear it so much as tackle it) he darted on to the field. The security guards were reluctant to make fools of themselves chasing a naked man around a wet field, and who can blame them, but the streaker had time to sit cross-legged in the middle of the pitch as play somehow went on around him. After scampering around some more, with a surprising agility, the brave soul ran off into the next field and hid somewhere. He was later seen, thankfully covered by a coat, walking back toward the stadium as we filed out, held in a vice grip by an understandably displeased looking security person.

It was a riot, and I left the game strangely pleased that we didn’t win. By the end I was watching the Fan-boys more than the game. One was an irreverent bunch of obnoxious Englishmen, and one was a football team getting their lunch handed to them, who would you choose? It was a comic, taunting sideshow almost worthy of Monty Python. Almost.