When you dream of a trip to England, do you dream of going to London? Do you dream of flying high, in the London eye? Do you dream of the strange kind of chill, one cannot find outside Notting Hill? Or do you just hope to bump into Harry Potter & co? I know I did. On my every walk trough this jungle city that felt like a world of its own, I was looking for magic. And I can tell you, I was never disappointed. But I got hungry for more, and that is why on a rainy Sunday of, I decided to hop on the bus to Oxford. Oxford wasn’t necessarily high on my bucketlist, as I simply knew it to be a city with a very expensive university and probably mainly rich people. But boy, do I need to stop stereotyping. Like a little school kid on a school trip I entered the big red bus to find myself a quiet window spot, and so my journey could begin. It was exactly what you hope to see when you travel trough England. When the Victorian houses of London moved, the rolling green hills begun. As thriving as the state we left London at was, as quiet it was now. But not less alive at all. The hills were deep green, threatened by a thick grey sky and accompanied by groups of trees. Luckily as we drove on the wrong side of the road, I could witness the pretty parts. That didn’t make it okay that they did that, though. I do not know how long it took before the driver yelled ‘Oxford folks’ – I loved that English slang addition to it, and I desperately searched for my umbrella before being peed on by the sky. Luckily, friendly as always, the driver gave me my sweet time. I left the bus and immediately the slightly satisfying sound that by now became welcome company, ticked on my umbrella.
I found myself a stone bridge to stand under, one of these that only England builds, with big yellow grey rocks, and realized I didn’t have a clue what I wanted to do here. So I dove into a small cafe that felt like an attic, dark, woody and quiet. I sat behind a very pink tablecloth with a beautiful English teapot in front of me, where the kindest lady ever kept pouring me tea until I became tea. Meanwhile I just stared outside, as the grey skies kept pouring, making this mysterious place all the more charming. I was ready for horse and carriage to come by, for ladies in massive dresses with more massive hats to step out, and the cavalry to continue. For once I forced the control freak in me to take a step back and let the adventurer flow. The adventurer also didn’t want to use her phone and therefore followed her nose to a garden so green it was like a big green bulb. A small grind path curled its way trough a big field of grass, accompanied by fancy little fountains, farting out water, aside. A beautiful pond at the end with more water farts and floating lilies, was the prove I needed to realize I was probably walking trough some rich person’s yard. A as I walked a bit further a wide field appeared, with at its far end, a massive, yellow bricked building. Towers balanced on its side and windows reflected the greywhite clouds, while a long, wide gathering of stairs led to an oak front door. And that’s when I realized where I was. I was in the heart of Oxford universities garden.
The bumps on my arms spread as I got a certain Hogwarts vibe down my spine. At the end of an excellently maintained bush, the most beautiful house I had ever seen, and this I say sincerely, showed itself. Small, yellow, crooked and cracked bricks built the house. 4 small, red attics, built pointy little tower rooms. All windows were small, shiny and dark, and the garden was perfectly maintained. P.S There were many chimneys balancing around again. It seemed so historical, untouched. It seemed to belong in an old English movie, of a kid that dreams of Oxford and then of course gets that pretty room in the attic so she could stare down at the field where everyone plays cricket. I continued my journey and the small path then led me to an almost just as small alley. It had this golden vibe like many buildings did, with yellow bricks. yellow cobblestones on the street, yellow bricks for the walls allowing the streets some privacy, and, yellow pricks for the houses. The houses were all basically mansions with dark windows, oak front doors and black pointy attics for roofs. I decided to follow the spookily empty streets and then suddenly ended up in an indoor market. I am not going to say what it made me think of, you can guess. The point is that, with its red floor and green, metal roof, it was a very unique sight. The stores were so small that most were basically market stands, with cute looking vacuum cleaners, irresistible cakes, happy socks, or fish. Anything cute or tasty, was here. Beautiful lanterns hung on the red ceiling, dipping the small cozy hall into a golden light, making you want to stay and warm up.
But I left, I anyways had a low budget for today and I had a mission to see as much as I could before the bus left. I entered a rather busy square, where the houses were no longer golden bricks (the street still was) but happily colored flats with the tiniest alleys or steepest stairways into bars or shops. Some bigger restaurants or commercial stores hid in German alike buildings, all timbered up. This is where the people were. The houses started getting soft colors but the yellow vibe remained, and as I enjoyed a beautiful mansion with a huge front yard, black windows, black balconies, a black roof and black chimneys, a quiet street drew my attention. and I swear I am not making this up, this street just drew me towards it. there wasn’t something special about it, until there was. A white finger, drawn with chalk, pointed into a small grey alley, where only some attic windows high above, could look upon. St. Helens passage, it said. Treat this secret well guys, because it was impossible finding this on Google when not knowing this specific name. as if the alley didn’t want to be found. An as this was literally 1 day before Covid decided to fuck everyone’s lives, I was amazed to see 0 tourist in here. The alley was small, white, filled with chalk boards pointing to the only 1 bar in here (some Oxford peeps getting drunk midday) and some flowers hanging around. At the end, a grey building with an even grayer path leading to it, seemed abandoned, yet to perfect to be. It gave me a spooky vibe to be honest, with the high walls closing in on me, so I did return after snooping around.
Little did I know that Oxfords best surprise was hiding in plain sight. I again followed my brightest adventurist instinct, as I entered something that isn’t my biggest interest; the outdoor place of what seemed like a parliament building. But as I did, I saw a little group gathering, so I just hopped in and asked what was happening. A church- and library tour of Oxford university, that was. I could for a second feel what it was like to live my once so beloved dream of studying in England (that was before I knew what it would cost and the amount of required brain-cells). And as we walked up some cracking wooden stairs, god how I loved that they kept worlds best university outdated as it was, some heavy doors opened with a deafening sound. And there was the dusty smell of my favorite thing; books. Many of them, beautiful old, skeleton books. Like fossils. Like holy artifacts they safely hid within beautiful old oak bookcases. Small tables with even smaller reading lights that clearly weren’t allowed to even be touched, stood before them. And the ceiling was a piece of human art; wood, creating perfect 3D squares, with a small second floor behind them with those funny ladders people use to swipe from one bookshelf to the other. If only I could touch these books. Now it turned out, if someone wanted one of these books, a copy was handed out. And even this copy came with the strictest measurements. These books were basically gods. The wooden floor cracked beneath my every move and the silence despite our whispers, was spooky. Imagine how I felt, when I found out I had finally found something that I didn’t even know existed outside fantasy; the Hogwarts library. P.S Pictures weren't allowed, so its an antique memory for me, and a golden tip for you
- It's an amazing life
Comments