I gazed at the mountains encircling my mother's hometown. I had been travelling in China for a month, constantly apologising for my broken Chinese. My mum once told me...
The University of Oxford, with its ancient colleges and lofty spires, has a reputation of intellectual prestige on the one hand and eccentricity on the other. Across the river Cherwell, its newer neighbour is a modern, dynamic, and sprightly alternative full of industrious opportunities. Yet, it is inevitably still a place where “I go to Oxford,” if left unspecified, tends to be followed by ‘no, not that one’.
Matcha, rich in antioxidants and caffeinated, is my go-to when I don’t want anything espresso. Yet not every store in Oxford sells it – I have been a victim of many bad matcha lattes over the years. Here’s a ranking of the matcha lattes I’ve had in Oxford.
So the Oxford workload, rather than triggering a stress response, has instead desensitised me to the fear of academic failure. Exposure therapy, I suppose. It’s very freeing.