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Last night I stood beneath the Radcliffe Camera, gazing up at it through the misty rain while the strains of Bittersweet Symphony drifted around me from a nearby college. I am surely in Oxford, my friends. The beauty of this place, with all of its history and intellectualism, struck me last night, despite the frigidity and rain that left me wet and shivering. Ancient trees. Wildflowers popping their little heads out of stone walls. The ruins of a gate standing tall amidst the bustle of modern shops. The story behind every shop, every stone, every inch of ground in this city.
I feel so very privileged to be here for these next weeks. I don't feel as if I deserve to be in a place so academic, so cultured, so steeped in traditions and rituals I know nothing about. But I am grateful and I intend to make the most of it. Whether or not I measure up to the standards Oxford sets for an A, I am trying not to concern myself with, for I think that merely through trying my hardest and working to squeeze the most out of this experience, I will gain perhaps more than an A on my transcript could provide me.
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