Today was very full. I started out by taking some clothes to the tailor for alterations. I will write a piece on Primark, smart casual, and semi-gay euro clothes soon, but the short version is that I had to pay £35 ($64.75) to get the sleeve length adjusted on a suit jacket that cost me £26 ($48). Weird weird weird. After this, I went to a presentation at the Oxford Union. This is a 19th century debating society that still exists today, but has become most famous for being a venue for top speaking guests from around the world. Wikipedia claims that the following have spoken at the Oxford Union: Dalai Lama, Gerry Adams, Hans Blix, Jimmy Carter, Albert Einstein, Stephen Hawking, Stephen Fry, Robert Kennedy, Ewan McGregor, Malcolm X, Winston Churchill, Jenna Jameson, Diego Maradona, Warren Beatty, Clint Eastwood, Ronald Reagan, Jon Bon Jovi, OJ Simpson, David Blaine, Richard Nixon, Henry Kissinger, Ron Jeremy, Michael Jackson, Jerry Springer, Mother Teresa, and Barry White.
outside the debating chamber
inside the debating chamber
The speaker today was Pervez Musharraf, President (dictator) of Pakistan. Mr Musharraf looked a bit tired, and has a very thick accent, but still managed to speak well, spin well, and knock out a few funny jokes and comebacks. He sounded like a CEO addressing the stockholders’ meeting, talking about X% improvement in this area, Y% in that area, challenges, opportunities, etc. He even took questions from the audience. Seriously: a 20 year old smart assed Oxford University kid sitting two seats down from me asked a world leader a question about the whereabouts of Osama Bin Laden. This is the kind of place that Oxford is: totally unique in the world, where normal dipshits like me and this kid are exposed to intellectual and political leaders of the world. It’s pretty freaking amazing. I has a question for him about Madrassas, but I was frankly too nervous to say a damn thing. Next time I will. By the way, many of the other questions were more subtle and deeper, given by people who clearly knew alot about Pakistan, but the Osama question was the one that came from right next to me, so that sticks in my head.
After the Musharraf speech, I went to a bunch of events put on for Graduate Freshers at my college, Merton. This was very very very interesting. A Graduate is a grad student just like we have back in the States, simple enough. A Fresher is someone who is entering the college (and possibly the university?) for the first time. Whereas my fellow MBA students (spread across the 39 colleges) are loud, gregarious, pretty smart, hard partying 26–44 years olds, the other grad students at my college are generally 21–25 year olds, quiet, hyper intelligent, nervous, and true academics. These folks are studying for D Phils (UK PhDs) in things like Middle Eastern Studies, Classics, Astrophysics, Theoretical Mathematics, Music Composition, Philosophy, etc. I met a 25 year old name Chauncy who speaks 10 languages and wears a tie every day. He owns 250 ties, but brought 115 to school with him. Seriously. He also happens to be the spitting image of Sid Spencer, however oddly or not oddly that might strike you. Some of these kids were so soft spoken and shy that I seriously couldn’t hear what they were saying! The really mind blowing aspect of meeting these people was the level of conversation I was getting from 21, 22, and 23 year olds: they were clearly experienced, educated, well read and well considered in their opinions, something I don’t find in a lot of 36 year olds, much less expect from people 15 years younger than me. We had coffee and cookies at the graduate residence in Jowett Walk, which is about 7 minutes walk from Merton. After this, there was a dinner in the big dining hall. Holy crap. This is so frigging Harry Potter, I couldn’t believe it. I was in Ean-heaven.
a semi-crappy image of the hall
After dinner, we all went to the Middle Common Room, which is a sort of partyroom/livingroom for grad students. There was a big free drinks party with all 100–ish Merton grad students. The whole quiet routine dropped right off once the gang got some beers in them, and when Reba and I left at 11pm, it was loud, drunk and sweaty in the MCR. By the way, the sweaty thing is no exaggeration. For whatever reason, it is a lot more humid here than in Seattle, and there is almost nowhere that has AC, so it’s been a pretty goopy summer. From here, we went to the Living Room, the stupid bar that I was barred entry to because of smart casual issues, and partied with the MBAs. This time, I got in!
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