skipped seas and skipped tenses

my flight left the eighteenth of january. we arrived at the halifax airport three hours early. (isn’t it wonderful having a mother, aunt, and grandmother all trying to organise your trip?) we therefore played the infamous ‘pass the pigs’ to pass the time. there were also milkshakes involved that i somehow couldn’t stomach. must have been subconscious nervousness. a bracing for the unknown, leaving hardly any room for thickly oversweet milk products.

and off i flew. with mark and alicia and megan and bethany. the other bethany. well actually, if i can rewind for a moment, as i was first trying to find my seat i discovered there was already a gentleman sitting in c twenty three, my seat by the window; he asked if i minded, which i really didn’t, so there he sat, for about four and a half minutes when one of the air Canada staff told him he had to get off the plane because he didn’t have proof of his ticket or something, which was horribly awful and the poor man was distraught, but in the end i got both seats to myself. and though these two chairs made a nice little bed, i arrived relatively sleepless.

and sleepy i was to remain for that entire day. we made it through customs though, barely. alicia was almost sent home, but by God’s grace the kind man graciously bid her enter as we convinced him she was with us. so there we are at last in the airport. we had our hesitant first meeting with the redeemer group, as six and six came together. a fumbling of smiles and awkward short exchanges, attempting to surmise the character of a person based on this first sighting, hoping to make a connection, instantly formulating future situations and scenarios in one’s mind, guessing at group dynamics, placing people in categories and boxes only to be altered and redefined slightly or altogether as time goes on.

heather and tim and laura and rebecca and jodie and sharon: those are their names.

from packed plane to a bus that was three times too large for the twelve of us, we travelled on, making the commute from london to charbury, our new home. in silent and sleepy awe we took in our yet unfamiliar landscapes as it rolled like a wheel of film past our windows, the pictures imprinting themselves, soon to be accepted as something we would each become a part of. truly we are here, after months of nervous anticipation and planning, or less.

into the little baptist church we tumbled in, ate lunch at our assigned seats, our ears being battered with information until out we went on a miniature tour of this charmingly quaint town where every vine and patch of moss seems perfectly placed. the cobblestone and slated roofs all slant in a beautifully crooked manner. streets are small and the houses smaller, beside which the lovely residents park the smallest of cars. it all looks like it belongs in a worn and well-loved storybook.

we return to discover our new hosts waiting with tea and biscuits, sweets. i immediately recognize jillian from her photo, though i still get the formal introduction as i meet her for the first time in person, a lady i soon discover to be sweet yet sassy, with her kind gestures and conversation interspersed with witty quips and eyes rolled at the neverending meowing of flora, the cat.

i found it hard to concentrate completely during that first conversation, though. the little sanctuary of the church was absolutely full and i couldn’t help the smile the would slowly stretch from ear to ear as waves of euphoria washed through me, into my bones and out shining through my eyes. the lilting accents of the townspeople wove and wound their way round me, swirling in surreal patterns above my head as i sat stunned and overjoyed yet in partial dismay at the difficulty i would have to endure in keeping my tongue canadian. it slips every now and again.

it really was only a minute drive from the church to church close. probably less. it’s ridiculously near the train station as well. the three stories of her home are eclectically adorned with mementoes of distant travels and her own sewn creations. a dusty rose predominates my bedroom, which is uncharacteristic of me but is offset by its coziness and the window that overlooks her green green garden below. each morning i sweep the pink curtains open to awaken my eyes as a refreshing reminder that yes, i’m still in england. and each time i open the window wide i wonder if a bird might curiously, mistakenly, fly in.

a bit of a rhythm has begun to settle as i faithfully descend the steps each morning to see a bowl, cup, orange juice, milk pitcher, cereal and cutlery on the table. we drink our coffee together or i take it away in my ‘beaker,’ or ‘tinker,’ i forget what she called it.

everyone in europe has been everywhere.

i think i went to bed the first night at ten o’clock but woke up somewhere in the middle, at which time i read for an hour and fell back into my dreaming. these interrupted sleep patterns went on for a couple nights and my eyes would droop during the day. but eventually my internal clock came into sync with england time.

this slight sleepiness did not deter the excitement, however, as we went to church sunday morning, had a lunch and then a walk through the muddy, misty yet breathtaking countryside and a delicious supper at the house of mad, the fantastic coordinator. monday was our first day in oxford. we made our way in by train, accidentally boarding the ‘quiet carriage’ and hopelessly trying to stifle giggles the entire way in. first discovery i made in the city is that the buses do not slow down for idiot tourists, as i barely escaped with my breath, a bit shortened though, by the fact that i almost died before i got to the bodleian. but we made it there intact and were sworn in, literally. so we continued to dive and dash our way through the unknown streets abuzz with people and bikes and cars to find the church where we will have some of our classes. and other times our learning is located in charlbury or right within regent’s, which is where we are around three times a week.

when we’re at regent’s park we eat lunch with the students, all gathering at one to stand by our chairs until someone says a hasty prayer and we sit down to be served. food is decent. people are friendly, though it would be difficult to get to know anyone really well as we hardly see them. we did, however, join up for the choir on friday nights which means we are able to attend formal hall right afterwords. this past friday was particularly special for it was held in honour of the great robbie burns. we ate haggis. clapped and cheered for the bagpiper. toasted the lads and the lassies. and did some old-fashioned dancing. twas a blur of laughter.

this past saturday was our first free day. what a beautiful thing. my original plan was to wander about the town to take photos and get a better idea of the streets, perhaps catch up on some letter writing, but i was sort of swept away by another wave of adventure. i had just made it to the church and was about to climb the colossal tree located in the graveyard when tim walks by and joins me. from there we explored together and we wound up meeting some others who were going to blenheim palace which was only a couple towns over. and off we went on a double decker bus which felt more like a roller coaster than a grounded vehicle. when we arrived we managed to find the secret door in the side of the wall so we didn’t have to pay to get in and we proceeded to stroll around the massive expanse of grounds. the palace itself was closed but it was still impressive to look at. we took the long way back into town, thanks to mark, probably walking at least four hours that day. worth it, though. the ride home was stunning. one of those moments you know will become a fond memory as we sailed through a sky of pink and yellow. heartstoppingly surreal.

that night we had another delicious supper and dramatic shakespeare reading. sometimes i get carried away and forget to pay attention to what’s actually going on.

our professors are brilliant, though. amanda, softspoken and stylish, is an expert on greek drama, and we all have a tremendous time as we act out various plays complete with cross-dressing and dismemberment. matt, an intellectual scatterbrain, intimidates us with his vast shakespearian knowledge as we wonder whether or not his legs are real. he looks similar to the brother on little miss sunshine.

the light switches in the loo hang on a cord and some of us are lucky enough to have heated towel racks.

already we have been to stratford to see richard II and it’s sort of bittersweet to think that we will probably never see shakespeare performed half so well anywhere else. the talent and artistic creativity combined was fantastic. the use of space and props original. the costumes ornate. the amount of impassioned spit flying could have filled several small lakes.

driving on the left side of the road makes me dizzy.

our first chapel was left up to us but unfolded quite beautifully. we ended up opening up and meshing moreso than we would have had it been organized i think. there was discovery of backgrounds. expressions of faith. encouraging words that surprised and warmed my heart of hearts. prayers uplifted. ties were tugged a little closer. most certainly essential to recognize God’s all-powerful hands orchestrating this most glorious symphony set in such a striking and stirring land with the most intriguing of characters at this most particular time when the rings on our trees are still so few.

having two male musicians along has been marvellous. it creates an energetic and easygoing atmosphere with melodies mingling and spontaneous singing providing the soundtrack for our european excursion.

you know you’re spoiled when you’re brought a cup of coffee in bed.

all this to say, i truly am enchanted with this beautiful country with its endless fields of sheep and bottomless cups of tea.

i may never want to leave.