The last month has been a busy one. The novelty of moving to a new country has been replaced by the realities of Oxford academia, although I’m still struck by the quintessentially British quirks confronting me when I do manage to leave the library:

Oxford “freshers” (students attending “uni” for the first time), stumble drunk down High Street on a Wednesday night, leaning on one another as they walk. Dressed to the nines in suits and black bowties, they are a giggling, slurring, tripod trying to make it back to their college before they lose their legs.

A cheerful woman’s voice comes on the loudspeaker at the grocery store (always with a thick British accent) when the lines at the checkout stands have reached the far side of the produce section. “We apologize for the long queues you are currently experiencing,” she sings out. People chat and smile as they wait in line for 45 minutes to make their purchases.

I find something especially endearing about old English people. Riding my bike the other day, I was passed up by a little old lady whizzing along on her cycle with a big wicker basket on the front, her bright white hair shining from under a scarf. Whenever I to out jogging, I see old men walking slowly down the canal paths in the misty mornings. Their plaid socks are hiked up with their trousers tucked in to them, wool hats tilted sideways and thick smoke billowing from their pipes.

Before arriving in Oxford and starting the MBA programme, I had this romantic notion of travelling the English countryside by rail on the weekends…not so much. The workload has been intense, but the classes are interesting. A notorious class skipper in my undergrad, I have actually attended every class so far! Even when I’m totally lost and haven’t the foggiest idea what Modigliani would say about the net present value of the multiple regression I ran last night, I like to think that some small portion of the material will soak in just by sitting in class. So far, I think my theory has definite merit.

My mom called the other day as I was preparing for a study group meeting. I told her I couldn’t talk, that I had to go. She said, “Well, is there a time tomorrow that I could call you?” I pulled up my calendar, which showed meetings, classes, study groups, and presentations booked the next day from 8:00 am straight through until 11:00 pm with 15 minutes of un-allotted time… I told her “No, maybe next term.”