Don't have as many pictures for y'all today- yesterday it was pouring rain and I was really out of it for some reason. I walked past The Eagle and Child, colloquially known as The Bird and Baby, knowing that I won't be able to visit it until it reopens next year. I wonder if I'll find myself in this town again. I'd need a reason to come back. I went to the Schwarzman Humanities Library yesterday morning, and I was happily surprised to find that the non-library spaces are very much not silent. There was convivial chatter all around me, and it was much easier to focus and feel at ease. I have a problem with building things up in my head until they're impossibly important. Like this paper, for instance. I have to finish it by Monday, so I'd better make lots of progress today. It's about "there and back again" in Gawain and Pearl, whatever that means. I have this strange feeling like I've never written a paper before in my life, despite having done it many times (in a few rare instances, to great success!)
Back to the library. I texted my friend "Hummingbird" and reflected on what it means for an incredibly old building to still be in use.
[1/15/26, 10:39:30 AM] Pleistocene:
so I’m sitting in the humanities library which is very slick and modern
and it’s nicer in here because there isn’t a silence rule so there’s distant chatter
and I realized that working in the radcam is kind of offputting because when you sit in a very old building you just notice all the modern things that feel unnatural
like I’m sitting in this 18th century building but it has wifi and bathrooms and computers
it feels a little grotesque
like a contorted identity
can something old be used in the modern day without losing its identity?
I don’t know if it can
[1/15/26, 11:24:30 AM] Hummingbird:
Not unless its historicity is preserved
We didn't get to continue the conversation, but I've been thinking about it. When you take a place out of its context, it ends up being changed in some way. Even if you have an historical site that's very well-preserved (ignoring all Ship of Theseus materiality qualms) it's still something of a relic. People come to see castles because they're old, not because they have dealings with their local lord. People still drink in the Lamb and Flag, yes, but its age makes it something of an attraction. So how can a building (or other sort of place) age gracefully? How are we meant to consider the old spires of Oxford whilst stuck on the ground amongst the gentrified chain restaurants?
Is this interesting to read about? I have no idea. It's lunchtime, so I'm off to get a sandwich and I'll try to return with answers.
Another day, another entry. Had a bit of a weird one today: I started it in the Rad Cam, as seen above, and I reread Pearl in modern English (which took a fraction of the time that it did when in Middle English, but I still feel like I don't GET the darn thing. I'm sick of pearls! Make her adorned with car tires for all I care!!)
But before that, though, I thoroughly humiliated myself by repeatedly tugging at the card-entry-only door, as a guard from inside looked on. This isn't even my first time in here, I'll remind you. I took a picture of the Gladstone Link (according to Wikipedia, the colloquial term would be, delightfully, "the Glink") when I went into the beast's lower belly to retrieve a copy of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. You heard that right, Gawain is back for Pleistocene's season two. Here's the promised picture:
I had quite the wrestle with the old Bodleian today. I couldn't find one of my books on the shelf, and I had a hard time finding seating. I understand doing your work in a library: what better place than an old, iconic Oxford institution? But the fact of the matter is, I can't take any of these books out of the building, and I need a darn place to sit. I even saw a guy watching a video game stream on his laptop in the packed Keble library. Come on, dude. All these libraries with their inconsistent rules and forbidden borrowing and faux-silence. My footsteps felt so loud, and the sounds of keyboard clicking and general shuffling were deafening. When I left the fabled dome I saw numerous tourists stalking about the edges of the place, and I don't think it's really sunk in yet. I walk around on these old streets, a newly minted Bod user, and I can't understand the significance of all the dead people that used to walk over those same stones. Really, I can't feel them.
I went into the University Church of St. Mary the Virgin later that day, and its age and significance were entirely lost on me. Am I numb? Dumb? I cannot tell.
The church was nearly empty, and my mind was too cluttered for me to sit and take everything in. I perched restlessly on the edge of the pew, staring up at the star-studded ceiling. Little gold pricks poking through a distant and dark firmament. I haven't seen any real stars here yet- I suppose it's too bright and polluted in the city. Back home, in the wide open plains, the stars are faint and distant but they are bright enough that you want to stare at them until someone drags you away. How can you be sure of anything when the stars are so far away?
All this contemplative torpor was tempered by a nice Keble lunch and a visit to Blackwell's (here's a joke for my friend "Owl": it's bigger on the inside!)
That's it for today! I'm tired. I'll see you later, hopefully when I've grasped the "theologian's allegory" of Pearl.
Phew, it's been a minute! Let me catch you up. I arrived in Oxford, settled in, and took many a blurry photo. I shall try to select only the very best for this entry. (I have SO many more pictures. I'll add them to my gallery!) Of course, the image above is the famed Radcliffe Camera, a massive library that is unfortunately a little stuffy inside during the winter. Excitingly, there exists a tunnel below ground leading to the other Bodleian libraries. It's called the Gladstone Link- look it up!
Keble College's distinctive brickwork was the design of architect William Butterfield, as I was told. People HATED it back in the day- there's a little story about how one of the graduation requirements for St. John's College was stealing a brick from Keble, in the hope that one day the whole thing would crumble. It is rather lasagna-like, but to be honest it's grown on me. Besides, with a gorgeous chapel interior, how can it not?
Again, apologies for the image quality. I can't tell if I'm bad at photography, my phone is just old, or both. There are some wonderful mosaics in here- when I come back I'll have to take pictures of the English (that's right, not Latin!) on the walls. You see, Keble was supposed to be a more accessible Oxford college for the less aristocratic populations (meaning upper middle class at the very least, of course). There's numerous features in the architecture to reflect that- such as the massive dining hall!
As a USAmerican used to soda cups the size of my head, I can't honestly say the size of this place was particularly affecting. However, it IS the largest dining hall in Oxford, reflecting the "mission," so to speak, of Keble.
Skipping ahead a few days, I went on a quest through Oxford to find the J.R.R. Tolkien bench (I know, shocking behavior for me). On the way, I happened upon St. Michael at the North Gate. I sat inside for a little while, and then permitted myself to snag a few photos, despite feeling horribly obnoxious and touristy. I felt like I was desecrating a centuries-old place of worship, (whilst people were actively praying) which, let's face it, I was. Luckily I don't think anybody saw. Enjoy these photos, for I took them by risking my immortal soul!
A Pleistocene-eye view of the stained glass! As you might have guessed, I'm a bit short. One of my professors-let's call him "Badger"-confessed to me that if he could go back in time, he'd learn how to make stained glass "the old way." I hope I can take home enough pictures of stained glass to make him happy :)
Later that day, I reached my destination: the J.R.R. Tolkien bench in University Parks. I sat for a while, writing and reflecting in my little notebook, until my hands got too cold and I had to get up again. Supposedly the bench is supposed to be betwixt two trees representing Laurelin and Telperion, although only one of them looked reasonably grand enough to be a tree of Valinor. I found this explanation on the Oxford website:
This seems to imply that there is no current Laurelin at all, despite the fact that I saw a small (and indeed rather diseased-looking) tree on the left side of the bench. Perhaps it's an unrelated tree? I shall have to ask around. What a mystery.
This was the view from the bench on that chilly day: the River Cherwell and some imperious-looking geese. I had a fantastic walk there- a dog ran up to me and I patted his little head, and he looked jolly indeed.
I went past a little gate after crossing over the river, and ended up in this large meadow. It was cold and sunny, and I almost completely submerged my (thankfully waterproof) shoes in a deceptively wet and muddy part of the field. I felt like Elizabeth Bennet trudging through the English countryside to retrieve her sick sister. Going further, I walked on a lovely little trail that ended up in a residential area next to somewhere called Meadowbrook College (not affiliated with the university). I had apparently walked quite a ways, despite not feeling like it. Everything here is so obscenely close by, to the point that a 10 minute walk feels like it takes ages. I miss my half-hour-long romps to Portland coffee shops. Of course, Oxford is not lacking in coffee by any means, and it's not like I can pass a medieval wall on my way to a latte in PDX! I must keep exploring.
Rounding out the photo dump is the lentil slop I made! It looks terrible, but it tasted alright. It was my attempt at making spinach garlic dal, and it was much nicer after making the garlic tadka. Could have used more garlic though- I'll keep that in mind for next time. Oh, how I miss fresh vegetables. I'll take a picture for my next entry, but everything in the stores here is so over-packaged. I feel so separated from my produce. There is allegedly an Oxford farmer's market that I simply MUST find, because I don't know how many more plastic-bagged courgettes I can take.
To be very honest, I've been feeling weird these past few days. Everyone in the program has been very nice, and even made efforts to include me in things, but I find socializing so exhausting. I miss my friends back home, I miss my dog, and it's not like I want to go home already- I'd be terriby bored! I just don't fit in here. All the British people I've met are very normal, it's the Americans that I take issue with! They all drink and go to clubs and just aren't my vibe. I know I'm being overly judgemental, but it's hard to find common ground with people you don't relate to, especially if you're a raging autistic like me. I always find myself sitting in silence, having no idea what to say. To add insult to injury, nobody here is studying medievalism, despite it being one of the core subjects of the program! Having one shared kitchen doesn't help either- when I cook my lentil slop, I want to do it alone. I hope I'm not coming off as too standoffish with my headphones on and whatnot (I probably look terribly rude and impersonable) but I simply don't feel like talking when I'm trying to make dinner. Oh, who am I kidding, I don't want to talk ever. And then there's the city itself- HORRIBLY creepy at night. People go out in groups, which is much safer, but I just want to walk around alone, which means I'm pretty much unable to leave the building after 4 PM. I worry about joining clubs, since they all meet after sunset. How will I join the Tolkien Society and then get to my room without getting Agatha Christie'd on the way back? I know I have to give things more of a chance. I really thought I'd fit in more than I actually do. Oh well.
On that cheery note, I'll try my darndest to figure out how to set up my gallery for a proper photo repository. In the meantime, I'll see you in the next entry (which hopefully won't take as long to get around to!)
Reader, I made it. I caught my connecting flight, and I am currently in London! Took a black cab, went to the British Museum, and tried desperately not to fall asleep. I'm not making it easy for myself, considering the fact that it's freezing and I'm very cozy right now. I head to Oxford tomorrow, but for now, pictures!
I was INCREDIBLY excited to see casts of Persepolis- there were actual portions of the city as well, although I'm not sure if they were rightfully acquired. Well, who am I kidding, of course they weren't. I wrote a paper on the political implications of Persepolis's design last year, and not to toot my own horn, but it was one of my best. "The Apadana! In front of me!" I quite literally jumped for joy, disturbing the fellow museumgoers.
This very cool citole!
The guy! It's the guy!!
Did I mention it was snowing? My very first day in London, and it snowed. What a crazy day!
Over the summer I did some digging into Cernunnos (and his various disputed equivalents) so this little guy was very exciting to see!
After crashing and sleeping for probably far too long, I'd say it was a fruitful first day indeed.
It's travel day! Already things have started going downhill. My flight was delayed, and I don't know if I'll make it on time to my flight to London. All I want is to go to an old English parish church! Woe! Now I'm sitting and waiting in the airport, where time passes both impossibly slowly and inconcievably quickly, depending on whether you're early or late. Horrible, awful invention, airports. Why couldn't I just ride a horse to England over a landbridge connecting Europe and the Americas? I would meet a wacky cast of characters and we'd become mercenary magicians. Spells and assassinations for cash. Then I could perhaps charter a caravel or a galley for the final hop to the British Isles. Oh, I hate air travel. Sitting for long hours in a cramped seat in a dry pressurized metal can. And of course, the fact that I have no way of controlling when my flight departs and whether I make it to my next one.
It is the day before I depart for Oxford! There is furious packing to be done, but I think I'm starting to get so caught up in the excitement of it all that I don't even feel very anxious about it. There is the jetlag to worry about- I don't want to be a zombie dragging myself around London. Alas, such things are not to be in my control.
