Spring Break
Overseas Briefing
Julia Whelan
Issue date: 10/26/06 Section: News
- Page 1 of 2 next >
OXFORD - Here at Lincoln College, Oxford, we take our meals "in hall." The space itself looks like the dining room in the Harry Potter series, complete with long community tables and soaring ceiling. We had our first dinner on Monday evening, commencing "Fresher's Week," or what is in essence the British version of our orientation.
There was a seating chart. There were candles and wine. We were served, literally. Someone appeared at my right and gently placed a soup bowl in front of me. This same person eventually followed with salmon and a tarte. More than slightly discomforted, I compulsively thanked the individual and they poured me more wine. Near the end, the Rector stood from his place at the center of the high table and addressed us.
He said, and I summarize, "The hall you are seated in was built in 1435. I beg you to look at the fireplace over on the left. That was not there when this hall was erected. The fire was located where those two young ladies sit before me" - he gestured - "and if you will direct your gazes upward, you will see the hole in the roof through which the smoke escaped." He then paused, I think, for dramatic effect.
Soberly, he continued, "I do not mention this to intimidate you." Oh, really? "Quite the opposite." Pray, go on. "This is a place of history. It is also a place dedicated to advancement. Let it not shy you, let it not convince you you're unequal to the others who have been before. For approaching six hundred years, students have felt wanting in the shadow of this hall and what it represents. But … they got over it. And they did things." With a final, comforting nod, he took his seat. We looked at the ceiling, then glanced at each other. And we had more wine.
The next morning I went for tea with the boy assigned to be my "college dad," or general protector and provider of libation. He is two years younger than I. Nevertheless, he nodded sagely during my glowing, and overly exuberant, recap of the Rector's speech.
There was a seating chart. There were candles and wine. We were served, literally. Someone appeared at my right and gently placed a soup bowl in front of me. This same person eventually followed with salmon and a tarte. More than slightly discomforted, I compulsively thanked the individual and they poured me more wine. Near the end, the Rector stood from his place at the center of the high table and addressed us.
He said, and I summarize, "The hall you are seated in was built in 1435. I beg you to look at the fireplace over on the left. That was not there when this hall was erected. The fire was located where those two young ladies sit before me" - he gestured - "and if you will direct your gazes upward, you will see the hole in the roof through which the smoke escaped." He then paused, I think, for dramatic effect.
Soberly, he continued, "I do not mention this to intimidate you." Oh, really? "Quite the opposite." Pray, go on. "This is a place of history. It is also a place dedicated to advancement. Let it not shy you, let it not convince you you're unequal to the others who have been before. For approaching six hundred years, students have felt wanting in the shadow of this hall and what it represents. But … they got over it. And they did things." With a final, comforting nod, he took his seat. We looked at the ceiling, then glanced at each other. And we had more wine.
The next morning I went for tea with the boy assigned to be my "college dad," or general protector and provider of libation. He is two years younger than I. Nevertheless, he nodded sagely during my glowing, and overly exuberant, recap of the Rector's speech.
Viewing Comments 1 - 1 of 1
redwitch
redwitch
posted 10/26/06 @ 6:01 PM EST
I just loved the story about the great hall. I felt as if I was there in the hall with everyone else.I only wish I could.It seem to be a wonderful place to spend your day and to have your meals in. (Continued…)
Post a Comment