Day 4 - Lewis/Tolkien Tour

The morning was an early one, but we spent several hours out doing various and sundry necessary things (getting gas, going to the grocery store) until noon. At this point we left for Oxford, one of Kenny’s requests. The drive lasted about two and a half hours, and we read, chatted, and laughed all the way.

What is my general impression of Oxford? It is a snooty, dirty, touristy town that is much larger than Cambridge and too large to be charming. Throughout the day this impression was only confirmed over and over again, rather than shaken.

After visiting the tourist office to buy a map (ads, really, with a teensy tiny map in the center) we walked around for a short time. Among the things we saw was the Bridge of Sighs, the round library, St. Mary the Virgin parish Church, and a round theatre where J.R.R. Tolkien once worked. At around 4:10 PM we made our way to a “museum and ride” called The Oxford Story, right outside the historical district.

If any of you ever goes to Oxford, skip this waste of money. The tickets are incredibly expensive for what you get. Both the website and the brochures are very misleading, showing what looks like a large museum showcasing the history of the city of Oxford and a ride showing you visually what you learned in the museum. Before the ride they push you into a little room where you watch a video advertising the college. In reality the place was made up of only the (short!) ride narrating the famous people who graduated from Oxford. It was dinky, dusty, and felt dangerously old. In addition, the audio tour and the ride were extremely anti-Catholic, and I spent most of the time explaining to the girls that everything the audio tour said was a blatant lie.

I will never understand how a country as Catholic as England was become so anti-Catholic in a short amount of time. Is it something inherent in the British character? God only knows. But on the ride the narrators described how, after the fall of the Church, a “new and far more stable form of religion established itself”. A monk who lived 100 years before the Protestant Reformation, but who championed the same separation from the Pope, was placed on a pedestal. An entire room was devoted to hanging, smoldering, pieces of the monk's writings as the narrator explained how the Catholic Church was against the advance of modern thought by burning the heretic’s thoughtful writings. Near the end the bravery of the Protestant martyrs was praised to the highest heavens, and the dying speech of some of them was heard. Finally, the tour finished with the soaring phrase: “Even today, Oxford continues to foster diversity in sex, race, and religion.” And we paid to hear these hypocritical lies? I can’t believe it.

We did a little shopping after the ride and before we drove to Lewis Close. In Lewis Close, at the end of a little residential area, is the C.S. Lewis Nature Reserve. The Reserve, which used to be Lewis’ backyard, contains a pond on which Lewis would reportedly row out to work on his Chronicles of Narnia. Tolkien, visiting, would take hikes through the woods surrounding the pond. Also, near the Reserve is the house that once belonged to C.S. Lewis himself. Unfortunately, it is a private residence now and so we could only take pictures of the outside. We were not alone either; there was one other solitary pilgrim to this place.

Afterwards, we drove around and finally found the Jewish Cemetery where J.R.R. Tolkien and his wife are buried. While driving (it was a difficult search and we found it thanks to the GPS), we read a very good article written by a Tolkien fan who visited the site and who described it very well. J.R.R. Tolkien and his wife Edith are buried in the Catholic corner of the cemetery, and there are little signs to guide you to the grave.

Though not affected with the same sense of awe that struck the writer of the article, it was surreal to be standing next to his grave. It was true, what was said to be written on the stone: underneath their names was written “Beren and Luthien”. The story of Beren and Luthien, a mortal man who falls in love with an elven princess and must win her hand, is my favorite in the Silmarillion. We snapped some pictures as reverently as possible, and said a prayer.

As quickly as possible (the cemetery was supposed to close soon) we walked back to the car. It was sad to see the state of the rest of the graves. In contrast with Tolkien’s decorated grace bedecked with flowers, rosaries, and Lord of the Rings figures, these other graves were barren. Some of the headstones had been pulled up by tree roots, making one wonder whether any bones were visible. I wanted to leave a flower and say a prayer at every single one. “At least”, said Kenny, “all these people are probably in heaven.” I said a prayer anyway.

Halfway through the two and a half hour drive home, everything seemed to be going very well. We chatted about dinner (we were all starving), our favorite places we visited, and rude Brits. But we weren’t going to be home for dinner for a long time. The emergency light on the car flickered on, and about one hundred feet further down the road we veered off and broke down. Literally in the middle of nowhere, we started calling AA to come and tow us to a garage in the nearest town.

At 11PM, the tow truck arrived and the guy drove us home before dropping the car somewhere. He was a nice guy, but we were too tired to say much. At this point, after two “adventures” in a row, we wanted to go home. We arrived at the Garden House at around 12:30AM, ate dinner, and went to bed.