A Room with a View

Hertford's Graduate Center
(note the sunny day!)

Hertford has spoiled me. In the flurry of figuring out where I want to live next year for my Senior year at Kenyon  (Themed housing? Avoid the lottery? Grab a Morgan? Will this group work? How much will it cost? The New NEW Apartments, yes, okay but do you really think that they'll exist?), I have figured out that no room back in the states would have its own en-suite bathroom. Yes, you've heard me right (or, rather read, you can't really hear me, can you?): I have my own BATHROOM. It's mine. ALL MINE.  Not to mention the two windows, one of which overlooks the Thames (or, if you're particularly Oxfordian, "the Isis"). When each of the IFSA-Butler kids were handed a key upon our arrival in Hertford, we had no idea what was in store. I remember when each of us opened our doors, exclamations of "no way!" and general disbelief seemed to be the consensus.

Also, all of Hertford (and I suspect all of Oxford as well) only provides single rooms for their students. Trying to explain the concept of a roommate is hardly worth it and often met with incredulous looks of "why would you ever share a room?" Needless to say, I am now in the market for a single room for next year.

All Hertford residences also come with their own "scout," which is, for all intents and purposes, a housekeeper except better. Our scout, Janet, comes once every day of the working week and empties our trash ("bins"), straightens up the communal kitchen (including putting dishes away), cleans each of our bathrooms once a week, and I've even heard rumors that she will even make your bed or wake you up for your tutorial (!!). Not to mention, the constant banter and conversation Janet brings wherever she may be. There is no comparable position to a scout in the states.

Enough about my room. Let's talk Oxford City (mostly to prove that even though my room is amazing, I do actually get out and explore my fabulous surroundings).

- The Covered Market is, well, fairly self-explanatory, but awesome. They have everything from fresh produce stands to a butchery complete with pheasants (NOT peasants or protestants, spell check suggestions! Goodness gracious) hanging outside the door to dress shops displaying floor length gowns to restaurants (including a Traditional English Pie [i.e., not fruit] place and a professional Bakery where passersby can watch the final touches being put on a wedding cake to the best cookie place EVER called....

Ben's Cookies complete
with Cyclist.

- Ben's Cookies. Oh Ben's Cookies. When you all come to visit me, I'll take you there so you can fully understand the brilliance of this establishment. Until then, I think the best description (aside from the accompanying picture) I can provide resides in the single fact that the price of a cookie is determined by its weight. Yep. Dangerous. Oh! and it's absolutely om nom nom-ability should be noted.

I've run out of time. This always seems to happen.... but! I do have an excuse: we have a Ball tonight! And, as magical as Oxford is, I have no fairy godmother to make a dress for me, so I guess I'll just have to go shopping. Much love and until later, adieu!