"When the Night over London Lay"

After arriving last week in London, I've seen quite a bit of the city. Most of my time to explore has been at night. The first night my roommate (from Hamilton College over in New York State) and I sought after Big Ben and took the Tube, the London Underground, for the first time. I couldn't help but imagine the first scene of Prince Caspian when the Pevensie children return to Narnia as a train whooshes through a downtown Tube station.

Since then I've met a lord, seen a show in the West End, met quite a few American students also readying themselves for study in British universities, and eaten at this London McDonald's I'm writing from a total of two (wonderfully tasty) times. I'd say that my first great impression is that Londoners are not the friendliest folk in the world. Sometimes I've wanted to take some of them by the collar after they give me their "Yuck! An American!" glare and remind them that not all Americans are bosom buddies of George W. Bush -- the man the English love to hate.

But aside from the political and spiritual atmosphere here in the UK (best described as hostile), England is, as far as I've been able to see here in London, basically the same place the American impression would lead one to believe. Sure, its mythic qualities are much diminished, and its quaintness is hardly perceptible in metropolitan London. And yes, the scars of air battles have long healed (thanks, I've been tempted to remind, to American dollars), and no one really wears tweed. In fact, as one woman told me, the English wear nearly all black (which is true) because of their deep depression and social shyness. And no one really says "God save the Queen"; some talk about her, with a lot of resentment (though not nearly as much as they reserve for her son and heir), but then again many will eventually admit that they admire the monarchy and the Englishness it represents. But the accents and the exactitudes and the foggy cold all prove to me that I've come to the true England. But what a strange and thoroughly confusing country!

Tomorrow I'm off to Oxford, about an hour northwest from London. There my true adventure begins. I've got a week to settle in before tutorials start in earnest. I've been warned of the indescribable rigor of Oxford study, which has made me nervous. But I trust that I'm here for a purpose deeper than my own amusement or struggle, so none of those cautionary words mean much of anything to me. The banner under which I trudge forward is not my own.

(Oh, and photos of London to follow soon.)