An Inkling about Oxford

The bus I took from Swansea deposited me outside Victoria Station in downtown London just after 6PM. Victoria by now was familiar territory, since I'd been here three times before and explored a bit each time. I found an internet kiosk and dropped a pound on 15 minutes of access, then e-mailed my roommates to tell them the rough time I would arrive, and then responded to an e-mail from my mother asking which day I would be arriving at the airport again? ("Tomorrow!" Sometimes I worry. . .).

I stuck my head in the bus station information area and got directions to a nearby supermarket, and bought some dinner. Having missed lunch, I knew I'd need the food.

Then I headed for the Oxford Tube bus and asked the driver about Headington (the subdivision near Oxford where my roommates live) and he said he could drop me there. I handed him my printed ticket confirmation and dropped my back in the luggage area, then grabbed a table with my newfound victuals and had a wonderful dinner of sandwiches and fruit.

Arrival in Headington was blessedly simple. When I jumped off the bus one of my boys, QW, was there to greet me, and we hugged and talked excitedly, since we hadn't seen each other in almost a year. Then we headed off towards home. He said they'd been holding a vigil since mid-afternoon at the bus stop because they didn't know the exact time I'd arrive, and my other roommie (John, known to others as Mary Poppins, JC, "Famous", and various other names, but referred to from here on as PFK) had headed home for a minute to grab an apple and check his e-mail, where he'd found my note saying when exactly I'd arrive (whoops!).

He joined us halfway home and we talked and laughed and told stories of the places we'd been PFK had been traveling just as long as I had in Europe, and we'd hit similar towns. When we arrived back to the house they introduced me to their charming roommates and we had a drink and told stories before we left to try and find some dinner for PFK because he hadn't had any. We headed for the nearest pub but they were packed wall-to-wall and stopped serving food in 15 minutes, so we voted for sandwiches downtown and hopped on a bus headed that direction. On the way to the bus, we passed a significant portion of a model of a great white shark sticking out of the top of someone's house, and the boys pointed it out to me and said that it was the "Headington Shark", placed in protest of something decades earlier. I said it reminded me of the sperm whale scene in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy ("I wonder if it will be friends with me?"), and QW laughed.

We arrived in downtown Oxford, which is quite charming, even if it is very dark, and found a small pastry and sandwich shop. I bought a couple of curry filled pastries called Samolas (I think?) that were quite tasty, and PFK grabbed a sandwich and we walked across downtown to the Lamb and Flag, QW's favorite pub. There we got a couple of pints for QW and me and a half pint of cider for PFK, and after some effort found a table in a quieter corner and sat swapping stories and asking questions about each others lives.

After the second round had been consumed and we were beginning to grow tired, we finally moved ourselves back out into the night and headed for another bus stop. It was about 10:30 by this time, and I planned to be on a bus to London at 4:10 the following morning, so when we returned to the house, I crashed downstairs on the couch near the front door, and borrowed QW's alarm clock. At 3:40 the next morning I made a silent job of grabbing a little breakfast (thanks for the FruitNFiber, PFK) and scuttling out the door with my bags. I clambered aboard the almost empty bus and arrived in London about 5:30. I had padded my trip this morning by 3 hours, wanting two hours in the airport and an hour for any miscellaneous delays, but everything went by like clockwork. I arrived at Victoria Station and got on a train to London's Gatwick International Airport in just 4 minutes, and once there had no difficulty finding the check-in area and getting in line for my flight due out at 9:15.

Sadly, this mean that I had about two and a half hours to kill before I could even board the plane, and so I finished off my book, listened to some music, and twiddle my thumbs in the boarding area.

Finally it was time to board and head for home. 46 days of travel and adventure were coming to a close. I was leaving Europe much poorer and much richer than when I arrived. I'd basked in the sun beneath Hadrian's arch in Athens, climbed 1,000 steps in Paris, seen the most beautiful sunset of my life in the Black Forest, skied in the French Alps, toasted the health of fellow backpackers in Firenze, and stolen an orange in Sevilla. I had made friends and enemies, shared dreams with travelers and taken advice from strangers. I had learned a tiny bit about the life you must live when you carry your entire world with you every day. I hope I will keep the lessons with me forever. I'll certainly keep the memories.

Until the Alzheimer's sets in, anyway.