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Loyle Carner: A new poignant, personal, and political voice of rap

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Image Credits: CC-BY-SA 4.0, by Alexander Kellner via. Wikimedia Commons

Loyle Carner’s 2022 album Hugo openly grapples with his heritage and identity, his performances openly discuss climate change and racism, and he even samples his mother’s own meditations upon childhood and love in Dear Ben. His stage name itself, a spoonerism, is a nod to his dyslexia. Ben Coyle-Larner is nothing if not authentic, honest, and introspective. His combination of boldly personal poetry and soulful, jazz-infused beats stands out not only in the undeniable quality of his music (he boasts a Mercury Prize and three Grammy nominations, plus the NME Award for Best British Solo Act), but in its audacious deviation from the rap tradition.

Where rap has long been associated with gang crime, misogyny and substance abuse, Coyle-Larner is instead both disarmingly honest and boldly personal in virtually every one of his songs. Having been raised in a household of women who speak openly about their feelings, Coyle-Larner is thus able to give voice to his every intimate, painful experience. Being abandoned by his biological father meant that he grew up with his mother and grandmother, and only recently reconnected with his father. Reaching out to him, and the long, painful conversations that ensued as his father taught him to drive, form the basis of his 2022 Mercury Prize-nominated album Hugo. 

Hugo tracks the artist’s own complex relationship with his roots. Born and raised in Croydon by a single mother, he knew little of his father’s, and thus his Guyanese heritage. It was not until 2020 that he contacted his estranged father and travelled to Guyana to more closely identify with himself and understand where he is from.

The opening single Hate almost bleeds the heartache and pains associated with a heritage Coyle-Larner has not previously fully understood, ignorance of which he has himself been a victim, “yo, they said it was all that you could be if you were black / Playing ball or maybe rap, and they would say it like a fact” and Georgetown, a hard hitting yet “self-fulfilling” (in his own words) track, refutes the concept of ‘half caste’ to describe his black and white ethnicity. Plastic directly attacks instances of racism and antisemitism in UK media, as well as obsession with materialism and excess: “With the plastic guy at the paper that thinks that Kano looks like Wiley / Yeah, look at this plastic place, yeah, look at those plastic slaves”. Coyle-Larner attacks both greed and decries an instance of antisemitism in UK media in a single breath.

The closing track HGU is fraught with the raw pain of reconnection. The strength and selflessness needed to forgive his estranged father is palpable as the artist questions: “how can I hate my father / without hating me?” To himself be a good father, he needed to be selfless, in the same way he must develop an understanding of his lineage, for “you fear what you don’t understand” (from The Guardian, 2022). As emotionally painful as he knew it would be, restoring his relationship with his father and to his Guyanese roots helped the artist grow. He was thus able to move on from hate and fear, so as to be a better father for his own son.

Coyle-Larner has vocalised his desire to shake the UK hip-hop ‘nice guy’ label. Hugo succeeds in this: he never shies away from facing anger and anguish head-on, whether it be directly towards his father or the UK government, and thus racist stereotypes he has faced growing up. The album is a lyrical journey, resolved in HGU through repeated “I forgive you”s even “after everything we’ve been through”.

One cannot ignore the artist’s musical as well as lyrical development. Coyle-Larner’s recent Royal Albert Hall performance underscores his  genius (although I devastatingly was not there, videos of the performance must suffice): the musical arrangement of each one of his songs was pragmatically thought out for maximum emotional impact. Plastic’s intense clamour juxtaposed with the smooth piano of Ice Water, and of course the show featured much of Coyle-Larner’s patented honesty: he even brought on the same speaker featured in Blood on my Nikes. Discussion of knife crime and climate change is certainly not something the rapper fears, and he balanced this perfectly with a striking show that entirely deserved a standing ovation. Every TikTok video of his concert spotlights the passion of both performer and audience. His raw vulnerability and stage presence shines through.

I fully identify with the growing hype surrounding Loyle Carner, yet it is not only the personal he shows in his music that draws one to him. Benjamin Coyle-Larner understandably keeps certain parts of his private life, such as his girlfriend and son, private. What he does show endears one to him. The creation of a cooking school for children with ADHD (Chilli Con Carner) is one such example: he combines a personal passion with the desire to better society, just as he combines genres and musical styles, the personal and political, the joyful and hard-hitting. Loyle Carner is an artist who should not, and in fact cannot, be overlooked, and I for one cannot wait to see what he does next.

Speakers criticise “uncomfortable” talk at Rhodes House

Rhodes house
Kaihsu at English Wikipedia, GFDL via Wikimedia

Panellists at a talk on the legacy of the Transatlantic Slave Trade hosted at Rhodes House described the general experience of speaking at the Trust as “difficult” and “uncomfortable”, and accused the Rhodes Trust of “celebrating its colonial history.”

The talk, held earlier this month, was one of several events marking the £38 million renovation of Rhodes House, which houses the Rhodes Trust and was built in 1929 as a “memorial to Cecil Rhodes”, the British imperialist and diamond magnate who colonised much of southeastern Africa in what is now Zimbabwe and Zambia. 

Chairperson Prof Kehinde Andrews, who spoke at the event, found the newly renovated Rhodes House  “uncomfortable.”  Andrews also took issue with the trust’s logo, which features an image of the Zimbabwe Bird, a mediaeval bird statue stolen from Zimbabwe by Cecil Rhodes in 1891. Rhodes erroneously believed the statue to be built by ancient Europeans and subsequently adopted it as an emblem of European superiority. According to Andrews, “the logo feels like Rhodesia” and is “an example of how colonialism carries on.”

Fellow panellist Onyekachi Wambu concurred that the organisation “perpetuate[s] imperialism.”

Wambu added that: “Emblems are important – one of the first things that was done when Blair and Bush went into Iraq was to pull down the statue of Saddam [Hussein] – so we understand the importance of symbols.”

Responding to the criticism, chief executive Dr Elizabeth Kiss said the Trust was set on becoming “ever-more inclusive and diverse” and would continue to connect scholars and fellows to build “a better world.”

George Floyd’s death in 2020 initiated a wave of protests about colonisers like Rhodes, culminating in the decapitation of his statue at the University of Cape Town. A similar #RhodesMustFall campaign took place in Oxford that centred around the presence of Rhodes monuments at Oriel College, Rhodes’ alma mater. Despite initially acquiescing to protests, however, Oriel’s governing body has continued to block the removal of the two monuments to Rhodes. 

Established by Rhodes in 1902, the Trust runs the prestigious Rhodes Scholarship programme at Oxford University. Twenty scholarships are currently awarded to postgraduate students from Africa and the trust claims that the continent is it’s “single largest priority.” It aims to prove its “commitment to reparative action” by achieving 125 total scholarships by its 125th birthday in 2028.

Responding to the comments, Dr. Kiss said “Everyone at The Rhodes Trust recognises the difficult reality and legacy of our founding. We acknowledge that racism and other forms of exclusion have played a significant role in the history of the Trust. While we have substantially changed to move beyond our past, we recognise much more work is required and we are committed to a proactive role in the realisation of racial justice”.

Oxford UCU motion calling for third Intifada in Palestine cancelled

Image credit: ZekaiZhu via Pexels

A motion to be put before the University and College Union (UCU), calling for “intifada until victory” in the Israel-Hamas war and a “Socialist Federation of the Middle East” has been cancelled. This followed a discussion between the local branch of the UCU and Oxford University, which had “serious legal concerns about this motion.”

The motion shared with the Oxford branch of the University and College Union stated that the branch believes that the war is “a direct consequence of decades of violent oppression of the Palestinian people by the Israeli state.”

It argued that “only a mass uprising on both sides of the green line and across the Middle East can free the Palestinian people”, going on to advocate that “the international movement of workers and youth support this struggle.”

The motion was due to be put before UCU members for a vote during what the Telegraph described as an “extraordinary general meeting”, before being dismissed on account of fears it may have led to a breach of the University’s harassment policy.

Prior to the motion’s dismissal, the Oxford Israeli Society said that it “stands aghast at the motion put forward by members of the Oxford UCU”, saying that it had never “seen academics call for the violent destruction of the state of Israel, or for mass intifada, meaning a wave of murderous terror, in all of Israel and the Middle East.”

The society spokesperson equated calls for Intifada to calls for “violent deaths, ethnic cleansing and genocide of seven million Jews”, adding that “to hold Israel responsible for the October 7th massacres is morally corrupt.”

“Our sense of safety has been destroyed. Already calls against Israel have led to violence against Jews all over the world, this motion fans those hateful flames”, the spokesperson said, asking why “any member of the university involved in this motion should retain their affiliation with this institution.”

“Intifada” denotes either of two uprisings of Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza strip, which took place in the years 1987-1993, and 2000-2005 with the intention of ending the Israeli occupation of those territories. It is estimated that 5000 Palestinians and 1400 Israelis were killed over the course of both uprisings. 

A spokesperson from Oxford Jewish Society (JSoc) said that they were “shocked and alarmed at alarmed at the proposed motion of the Oxford UCU” highlighting the fact that “Jewish students at Oxford have been intimidated, harassed, and have faced antisemitic abuse” since Hamas’ attack. 

Calling for the motion’s dismissal, the JSoc spokesperson said that it “shows an utter disregard for antisemitism and the safety of Jewish students and staff at Oxford. The UCU’s actions will only exacerbate the hostile climate that Jewish students currently face.”

In conjunction with the president of the Union of Jewish Students (UK and Ireland), Oxford JSoc’s president published a letter to the presidents of the Oxford Branch of the UCU on 24  October. They released the letter on Instagram, in which they called for the motion’s dismissal, urging the UCU “not to use their statements to advocate for violence, but to express their opinions through peaceful words. 

“We also call on the UCU to unequivocally condemn the targeting of Jewish communities in the UK and around the world in response to the current conflict and acknowledge that such actions are antisemitic.”

Oxford University said that it had engaged in “serious discussions” with the local branch of the UCU, leading to the motion being withdrawn from Thursday’s Emergency General Meeting, where the motion was due to be put before members. 

Following the motion’s dismissal, the Oxford UCU branch committee told members: “In response to questions regarding the motion that was circulated alongside the call for the meeting, we would like to clarify that the previously circulated motion represents a motion submitted by members, not by the committee.”

The Oxford UCU committee revealed that all members of the union have the right to bring motions before their branches “as is standard in trade unions and other democratic organisations.”

The committee also said that it condemns “in the strongest possible terms the targeting of civilian life by both Hamas and the Israeli military, and we also condemn instances of antisemitism and islamophobia that we have witnessed since the violence unfolded.

“Recent events are part of a continuing cycle of violence that has been the result of decades of brutal occupation. Achieving a lasting peace in the region must start with the return of captives, an end to the occupation and a recognition of the rights of all people.”

Oxford Palestine Society and the Oxford branch of the UCU were approached for comment.

Falling at the first hurdle: this Barbie is a radical feminist

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Image credits: CC 1.0, via. RawPixel

“Yeah, I liked it, I just wasn’t expecting it to be so political” declared my (female) friend as we discussed Greta Gerwig’s record-breaking comedy. This was over text, but I like to imagine that silence, or perhaps a retort, would have followed this comment if it had been a conversation between us all in real time.

Because seriously? Even the many Barbie-related TikToks I have seen highlight that yes, the film does touch on the existence of the patriarchy, on the impossible standards women must face every day, and on the complexities involved in resolving these issues, while ensuring all feel seen and benefit from feminism. But, it could easily have been far more radical. The very fact that one of my friends thought Barbie did so much, when it effectively just conceded that sexism exists, is shocking. This is not to say that Barbie should have attempted to deal with more than it did, though. In fact, Gerwig did an incredible job in dealing with a very difficult task, and the film should instead act as a stepping stone towards real change — change that so badly needs to occur.

Barbies image as a fun, pink toy for girls is also one that many have seen as anti-feminist in her male gaze-conforming, stereotypically beautiful construction. But this actually makes dismantling this iconic doll an excellent place to start; the world she occupies, and Barbie herself, appear as perfect and effortless, partly because she is beautiful and knows it. Yet, Barbie’s journey to the real world is in fact a path to painful discovery of the patriarchy while she had believed sexism was solved. The point is that she immediately runs up against walls while men catcall and assault her in the street. As a woman, she feels uncomfortable in her skin. She is not perfect, the world does not treat her better for looking the way she does, and the same would go for the other Barbies, because sexism is everywhere. Taking a doll formerly seen as unrealistically perfect (and thus anti-feminist) and using her to underline reality is an impactful decision, and it works so well. It shocks people, and that is what we need.

And still, the film remains fun and humorous while dealing with the hardships of womanhood, of motherhood, and of raising awareness of, and attempting to solve, these issues while giving voice and space and opportunity to everyone. By the end of the film, there is acknowledgement that sexism does in fact exist and there are optimistic steps to be taken. 

Perhaps making the film more ‘radical’ would have been too mean a feat, and instead Barbie serves as a realisation that more needs to be done. There are gaps to be filled; I have read complaints about a lack of intersectionality, ignorance of rape and sexual assault, and too much comedy (the obsession with ‘I’m Just Ken’ distract from the message and instead draw attention to the men). But this film cannot do everything. I would have appreciated a jarring, painful watch — statistics and the shocking revelations we all need to acknowledge. The fact that Barbie, in merely drawing attention to sexism, has sparked controversy amongst critics — many of whom are men — is painful, claiming they can’t deal with the ‘misandry’. What misandry? The facts? What if Helen Mirren informed us that one in thirty women are raped every year? That 99% of rape cases in the UK go unconvicted? What if, God forbid, black feminists spoke of the misogynoir they face? Admitting that real issues do exist seems too much to so many people, so they hide from it. It is an understandable response: flight. But it should no longer be allowed as an option.

St John’s College exhibits Pollution Pods designed to raise environmental awareness

Pollution Pods
Image Credit: Enkhtamir Erdenebulgan

A Pollution Pods exhibit was recently erected at St John’s College as a collaborative art project between the college, the Oxford Cultural Programme, and the University Environmental Sustainability team. The Pods represent different environments’ pollution levels, attracting over 750 visitors so far. It intends to raise awareness about pollution and invites Oxford’s wider community to join the discussion about the importance of air quality. 

Part of a wider series entitled ‘Everything Is Connected’, the piece is an immersive sensory experience by Michael Pinsky, allowing participants to enter five geodesic domes. Starting with “the clean air of Tautra in Norway, these each represent a specific location, “recreating the distinctive atmospheres found in highly polluted areas like Beijing, London, São Paulo, and New Delhi.”

There is an immediate physical reaction, since the pods “utilise advanced air filtration systems and chemicals to mimic the specific composition and odours of polluted air”. Despite the emulation of the air climate of Beijing, the installation is completely safe according to the project manager Jamie Wright.

Over the five pods, there are monitors with data about each respective city’s air pollution levels using the Plume Air Quality Index value (AQI). A visitor upon leaving the installation remarked how the sensation inside the New Delhi dome is “‘vile” and that she felt “very uncomfortable and dirty”, while a fresher was relieved that “I can breathe again” when they emerged outside.

When asked about how the Pollutions Pods installation was going so far, Jamie Wright told Cherwell: “It’s been an interesting project, I think this is one of the first times that a piece like this has been displayed in a university. It’s quite a unique collaboration for the first time between the Cultural Programme at Oxford – which is relatively new – St John’s College, and the Environmental Sustainability team at the University.”

He added: “It’s been brilliant working with St John’s College and the University, I’m a freelance Arts and Culture project manager. The work I do brings lots of artworks to people for free that wouldn’t necessarily be seen in other places, so it’s brilliant to have it here at St John’s.”

Two John’s students find the installation a positive addition to the college: “Personally, I think it’s a very creative idea, it’s a very immersive way to get people involved and actively thinking about climate issues and the environment. In light of a recent, not very good and destructive way of putting forward climate protest, you know, by the Rad-Cam, I think this is possibly a better way of doing it and getting people involved and actively thinking about things since it’s an environment they step into. I think it’s cool, and free – it’s fun.”

“It’s nice seeing external people come into college to see it – it’s lovely and it’s only for a short period, so it’s good to experience it while it’s here.”

The St John’s College Pollution Pods installation is open until 5 November.

As Poland steps back from the precipice, others are ready to take the leap

Image Credit: European Parliament/CC BY 2.0 DEED via flickr

There were signs that a political shockwave was coming to Poland this month when opposition parties organised the “March of a Million Hearts” ahead of the election on October 15th. Despite the close results, Donald Tusk, the opposition leader who ran Poland as Prime Minister from 2007-2014 before serving as EU President from 2014-2019, looks set to lead the next governing coalition in Poland. But behind closed doors, it is Brussels breathing a deep sigh of relief as Poland arrests its dizzying decline into what Hungarian leader Victor Orbán once proudly called ‘Illiberal Democracy’. 

Not only has Poland enacted some of the strictest abortion and LGBTQ+ laws in the EU, but the PiS party – which has governed Poland for 8 years – has comprehensively eroded the judiciary’s independence and hijacked the state TV channel. While the recent election in Poland may have been free, it was certainly not fair – with Tusk being painted as a puppet of Brussels and Berlin on the state broadcaster. Leading questions such as “Do you support the admission of thousands of illegal immigrants from the Middle East and Africa, in accordance with the forced relocation mechanism imposed by the European bureaucracy?” accompanied the ballot papers –an obvious attempt to sway the electorate. Such is the decline in standards of rule-of-law that the EU blocked Poland from receiving their €36bn share of the EU Recovery Fund, a fate only shared by Orbán’s Hungary. 

What do young Poles think about the EU and the direction their country is heading in?

I spoke to a group of Poles in their early twenties from Poznań to find out how young people perceived the changing political winds in their country. All four agreed that Poland had moved in a more Eurosceptic direction, diverging from their own pro-EU stances. Zofia and Uno, who both voted for the Left coalition (which looks set to prop up Tusk’s own Civic Coalition), told me that they were “scared that if the parliament [stayed] the same, we would have to leave the EU”. Maria, another Left coalition supporter, echoed that sentiment, fearing that “the violations of EU law […] could possibly harm our position in the EU”. 

While nobody thought a “Polexit” was imminent, the blame for the rise in Euroscepticism was laid squarely at the feet of the ruling PiS party. Michał, a Third Way voter (another ally of Tusk’s Civic Coalition), was more cynical about the ruling party’s motivations for demonising the EU, suggesting it was perhaps a populist stunt. A familiar tale of ‘Us’ vs ‘Them’ politics.

In all, it became clear that for these young Poles, the election was not decided on Poland’s relationship with the EU. Both Maria and Zofia explained that social issues such as women and LGBTQ+ rights were a greater driving force, with the latter clarifying that “I see the advantages of remaining in the EU in my everyday life, so I was never influenced by the rising Euroscepticism of our leading party”. The group did agree that Poland’s position in the EU was stronger as a result of the election. However, they seemed sceptical that the election would herald many great social changes. Zofia admitted that “[the new coalition] probably will not be as groundbreaking as some of us would hope”; Maria added that while she was still optimistic, her initial enthusiasm was “somewhat diminished after initial disputes within the opposition”. 

In any case, Poles have denied the PiS party an unprecedented third term in power. The EU lives to see another day and Orbán has lost a key ally in his fight against EU cooperation, even if Slovakia recently elected a pro-Russian leader. 

The looming threat of the far-right in France and Germany

Nonetheless, it would be foolish to see Poland as the bellwether of Euroscepticism. Indeed, the EU’s internal position is as vulnerable as ever. Even Germany and France, widely considered the two most influential countries in the European Union, are not safe from the rising tide of populism and support for Eurosceptic parties that are sweeping the continent.

Current polls in Germany indicate that support for the far-right AFD party has risen to a historic 22%, just behind the moderate conservative CDU/CSU party at 29%. The left-wing Chancellor, Olaf Scholz, has seen his share of support plummet to 16%; his governing coalition has the backing of just 35% of the electorate. Scholz is an increasingly unpopular figure, considered by many to have failed to contain the unfolding economic crisis. Only three in ten Germans are content with his leadership. Just like across Europe, each crisis makes far-right, Eurosceptic parties, once seen as an unthinkable choice for many, seem more and more palatable. 

In France, the perennial spectre of Marine Le Pen looms large, and her electoral results speak for themselves. In 2017, Le Pen achieved 34% of the votes in the second round of the French presidential election. In 2022, the share was 41.5%. With Macron barred by term limits from running in 2027, France once again considers its future. It seems that Le Pen’s far-right message is finding resonance among much of the French electorate. In 2017, her Rassemblement National party only had 8 seats in National Assembly, by 2022 that figure was 89 seats – making it the largest individual party in the opposition camp. Le Pen’s efforts to detoxify her party’s image and gain credibility amongst the electorate have opened the floodgates. Even Jean-Luc Mélenchon, the most influential left-wing politician in the country, is an outspoken critic of the European Union. 

Macron may have been successful in his two campaigns for president, but in the process, the centrist politician has obliterated the traditional left and right-wing parties in the country. When the dust settles, there is a considerable risk that the fractured and turbulent state of French politics may leave France with a Eurosceptic president.

How coalitions may bring the EU’s downfall

Of course, all this is not to say that there is any real appetite for a Brexit-style departure by any of the EU member states. It is rather that as support for more extreme, Eurosceptic parties grows and that translates into electoral successes, citizens of these countries may find that their governments start picking bigger fights with the EU, paralysing the institution in the process. As Radek Sikorski, the former Polish Foreign Secretary, explained, the PiS party gained power with only 38% of the vote in 2015 and then started packing the courts; it only took “an ideological sect and not much more than a third of the electorate to change the system”.

Across the continent, the far-right has found mixed success. While it is true that some countries, such as Spain, have seen their far-right parties lose support, more generally the trend has been heading in the opposite direction. Take Sweden and Finland for example: until last year, both countries were headed by staunchly pro-European Social Democrats, now the far-right Sweden Democrats and Finns Party prop up the governing conservative coalitions in their respective states. It is easy to see a future in which the far-right paralyses the EU by threatening to withdraw support from fragile coalitions.

The far-right: holding the EU hostage?

Italy is perhaps the best example of what the future looks like for EU states that turn to the far-right in the face of instability. Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni’s Brothers of Italy Party has post-fascist origins, and it is the most right-wing government in Italy since WW2. While on the domestic front, Meloni’s government has made good on its promise to enact a traditional, Catholic vision on the country, Meloni has needed to placate the concerns of her European counterparts. For example, despite her close ties with Viktor Orbán, Meloni has followed Poland’s lead in supporting Ukraine throughout the Russian-Ukrainian conflict. However, immigration remains a red line for Meloni, as it did for Poland. The unfolding crisis on the Italian island of Lampedusa led Italy to block the EU’s migrant redistribution programme and proposals relating to human rights guarantees. Meloni is now one of the most influential European leaders on immigration, ready to hold the institution hostage to enact her vision of a Fortress Europe.

While Eurosceptics may have narrowly missed out on an unprecedented third term in Poland, the future of European unity is put into question by the rise, in some cases meteoric, of parties across Europe that are completely opposed to the vision of further European integration.

Euro bummer

Illustration of bed bug with text 'bed bugs on tour'
Artwork by Yuan-Yuan Foo

This summer, I reached a crucial milestone in my adulthood. The group made it not only out of the group chat, but also out of the country. We had spent months painstakingly planning out a perfect interrailing tour and had spent an equal amount of time fantasising about it.

Though Oxford was cold and damp (alas, it was April), we were warmed from the inside out by dreams of skipping through golden fields somewhere in the idyll of the Tuscan countryside, or partying deep into the night in a supremely cool Hungarian disco known only to the locals.

This summer was the first without any real COVID restrictions, and the sudden boom in internet trends like ‘Euro girl summer’, ‘Europecore’ and ‘tomato girl summer’ was a clear indication that everyone was rushing to broaden their horizons again.

Looking through my explore page, there was an aesthetic formula underlying each post: think off-white linens, backyard dinner parties, prosecco paired with flowing charcuterie boards, sunset cruises and strappy evening dresses on the Amalfi coast. 2023 was the year of the Euro summer.

“This is going to be the best three weeks of our lives” we told each other relentlessly. And it truly was!

But that doesn’t mean that I’m going to gloss over the grittier reality of student travelling when I could exploit it for comedic effect instead. Because as picturesque and perfect a Euro summer in the prime of your youth may sound, it’s not exactly like you’d imagine it.

The first and most obvious problem with travelling of any sort – and life in general – is money. In more ways than one.

The first is that as a group of twenty-year-olds with no steady form of income and massive student debts we didn’t really have a lot of it going spare. We had already crunched numbers ad infinitum to find the cheapest combination of dates for flights, trains and accommodation.

As it turns out, we may have cheaped out a bit too much on that last one, but I’ll come to that later.

What Instagram influencers fail to tell you is how expensive Europe can be. When you start adding up food, transportation and activity costs, sadly, it becomes something you have to think about frequently. Meals out every night were not an option, and trying to cook in budget hostel kitchens led to more than one mishap.

Pot noodles were a regular feature for all of us when we had neither the time, energy, or desire to find something with any nutritional value. Lidl quickly became another staple – their bakery sections abroad are so much better than they are here. It’s probably not what anyone wants to hear, but in Italy I ate more mediocre pasta (of our own making) than I did the tastebud-tingling authentic stuff.

The most frustrating experience was, however, our first night in Zagreb.

Exhausted and a little grumpy, we went into a tiny convenience store on the lookout for a box of pasta and a bottle of readymade sauce. The former we found easily enough but the latter proved to be a challenge.

Finally, we found a jar of some red liquid that could have been sauce but had a label neither we nor Google Translate could comprehend.

We took it to the lady behind the till. She didn’t speak a word of English and we didn’t speak a word of Croatian. What followed was a complicated game of charades which concluded in us deciding we had no better options.

It was not sauce. It was soup. Not that it tasted of anything. But from its consistency, it was clear that we had messed up. Though it makes a funny story now, at a time when we wanted nothing more than a satisfying meal, a shower, and a bed without bed bugs in, it felt like the end of the world.

We had to learn to live with another disappointment: even on this ‘once-in-a-lifetime-opportunity’ kind of trip, we simply could not afford to take up every opportunity that presented itself.

There were some non-negotiables: Sam’s sunset cruise (read: ferry) down the Danube, Nat’s Florentine opera evening, James’ thermal baths in Budapest, Miles’ abbreviated food bucket list and my Colosseum visit.

We also took advantage of the free walking tours and the random days in Italy when important museums are free to the public – we completely lucked out when we turned up to the Uffizi, expecting to pay the €22 entry fee, and discovered that it was free on that particular day.

By no means did we have any shortage of things to do, see, or eat, but in every city there were a myriad of places it would have been nice to try out. The Alphonse Mucha Museum was a heartbreaking miss but at a cool £13 each it wouldn’t really have been worth the four gelatos that were its financial equivalent. €80 per person for half an hour on a Venetian gondola was regrettably also out of the question. We still had an incredible time, but it would be a lie if I said we didn’t all feel that little twinge of longing for what we couldn’t have.

The next money problem was more logistical – currency and cash. I had the uncharacteristic foresight to open a Monzo account, but my friends on Revolut found themselves unable to transfer money on weekends without incurring huge fees. Thank god for Splitwise.

I found myself in a different pickle, entirely of my own making. In lamentable Gen-Z fashion, I exclusively use ApplePay. Yes, I do have physical cards but I don’t know any of my pins.

So when Monzo’s online banking crashed for three days, I was utterly at the mercy of my friends. Slight exaggeration, but it would have been ridiculous to pay for a postcard with a €20 note (which is all I had left at that point).

Now for currencies. For someone who has only ever done maths expressly against their will, changing currency (Euro, Kuna, Forint, Korona) meant that my brain was working overtime to convert everything back to pounds.

For those who aren’t acquainted with the Forint to pound conversion rate – and who can blame you – it’s 450 HUF to 1 whole GBP. This meant that I was regularly paying in thousands and having to calm down my heart rate after it instinctively skyrocketed every time I saw a receipt.

Additionally, some places try to scam tourists by letting them pay in Euros instead of the local currency. Sounds benevolent enough, but what they fail to mention is that the two prices aren’t even vaguely comparable. Luckily, I was with four STEM students (if you count Medicine) and they pulled me through.

Speaking of friendships though, it’s perhaps worth mentioning that these will be tested to some extent. I still passionately love all the people I went with but in a pressure cooker of stress, lack of sleep, unpredictable mealtimes, no privacy and sheer exhaustion, there were times I could have exploded.

See, when you’re on 4 hours of sleep and you average 37k steps daily while carrying a 15kg backpack, it doesn’t take much for disagreements to break out. A debate about the safety of the Covid vaccine. A tiff about an AITA Reddit post on a man who threw away his girlfriend’s coat. A disagreement about whether anyone knows exactly how they spoke Latin in Ancient Rome. Hilariously, as the resident classicist, I was not involved in that final one. For the record, I think not.

For ambiverts like me, being with people 24/7 is overwhelming. It takes a lot of patience, goodwill and self-awareness, which are qualities that I’m not exactly renowned for. But we muddled through, taking time alone when it was needed, talking when it got slightly ugly and apologising when it was kind of our fault. It has brought us closer in a way only difficulty can, but there were times I thought we might be pushed irretrievably far apart.

Our biggest and most lasting issue, however, was the bedbugs. Even now, I have a constellation of marks all over my body that remind me of how bad it got.

We picked them up in Ljubljana, in a hostel which was really a seventeen person dorm with a singular toilet and a shower. Not ideal, but we decided to put up with it for the two nights we were meant to stay there.

We woke up covered in welts and to our horror, found the critters crawling all over the mattresses, the walls and the people in the room. The next three hours were perhaps the most stressful of the whole trip as we tried to arrange alternative accommodation for that night, get our money back and purge our stuff of the freeloaders we had picked up. We never managed to successfully get rid of them, no matter how much we washed, dried and aired out our clothes.

It was only when I got home and my parents made me strip in the garage, smoke bomb all my stuff and wash it all at the highest temperature the washing machine could manage did I escape the nightmare of itching so much that I was drawing blood constantly. I think my dad still hasn’t taken my passport out of the freezer.

Did I mention that we were blackmailed? The hostel had pre-authorised my card for the first night and when we angrily left some reviews on Tripadvisor that same day, I was sent a poorly veiled threat stating that unless we took these down, they would not issue us the refund they had promised us that morning.

For those wondering, no, we didn’t go to Paris so their bedbug epidemic is not our fault. For those who used the same hostels as us for the rest of our trip, I extend my most sincere and heartfelt apologies.

If having read all this, you too are reconsidering your own carefully curated interrailing plans – don’t! This trip was the greatest thing I have ever done. All the complaints made here have already become hilarious stories for us to tell other people about and to reminisce about with each other. I don’t even wish that someone would’ve warned us – realistically we wouldn’t have done anything differently. It’s just that when I see another photo dump of someone else’s travels in some Edenic country, I know not to react with instinctive jealousy, but with a wry smile and the understanding that I’m probably only seeing the best bits of the full narrative.

The Apocalypse is coming: what shall we drink to?

Bedbugs, politicians, and balmy weather seem to be everywhere at the moment, stirring up trouble wherever they go. However, closer to home some new research has been discussing the future of our alcohol. The University of East Anglia published a paper last week suggesting that increasingly widespread and severe drought and heat may cause substantial decreases in barley yields worldwide. Barley is brewed to make beer, and hence academics warned of “dramatic” falls in beer consumption with steep potential rises in beer prices. So what should our college bars, pubs, and restaurants turn to instead of the golden ales?

Well, last week our very own Oxford researchers found that warm temperatures and higher rainfall are the secret to producing good wines, a weather pattern likely to increase with climate change. The research, published in iScience, concluded that changes in climate will likely result in improved wines. 

The study, led by Andrew Wood, a DPhil student in the department of Biology, focused on Bordeaux. Admittedly the city of wine is not near the city of dreaming spires but given the quantity of its wine in our cellars (hundreds of thousands of pounds at the last guess) it’s safe to say that there is a piece of Bordeaux right here in Oxford. Bordeaux’s reputation for wine precedes it, and its phenomenal wines are matched by equally verbose wine critics – critics who will debate the subject with as much intensity as can be found in the Union on a Thursday evening. In this most recent study, over 70 years’ worth of international wine critic scores were analysed against the weather conditions which made them and found that the conditions that make a good red in the south of France are those most likely to prevail with climate change.

So where should the average drinker in Oxford turn?

Well, there is always French red wine. Red wine grapes thrive in warm dry summers, but Mr Wood was keen to emphasize that “we are not saying that climate change is a good thing, and there are lots of caveats to this research. But, on average, the conditions which make good wine are hot and dry summers, and cooler wetter winters. We have seen these conditions increase in frequency more recently, and so we have seen more and more better vintages, a trend we suggest will continue into the future.” 

Château-Figeac, one of two “Premier Grand Cru Classe A” chateaux in the Saint-Emillion region of Bordeaux, also remarked “With climate change this type of year comes more often and therefore great vintages come more often. But this has to be balanced against the more extreme weather conditions (frost, hail, extreme drought) which are very expensive to manage”. So, we can remain cautiously optimistic about a good future claret, but it is not the only option with a warming world.

If you’d rather something more ‘Brexit’, there is the potential for better future English wines too. Natasha Rompante, an English wine maker is seeing the impact that changes in weather have on wines. She says that “it is clear to winemakers that climate change is having a dramatic impact on wines globally, and especially here in the UK. 2020 was a stand-out year with and we even achieved ripeness levels to produce red wine”. An interesting prospect and perhaps an English red would make a delightful vintage to toast the end of the world.

For those who like fizz there is something special on the cards too. “The new harvest is exciting for winegrowers like us who work in an artisanal way, the juices are magnificent with a nice balance between acidity and fruit” says Aurore Soret of Champagne Soret-Devaux. Who can argue with the idea of quaffing delicious boutique artisan champagne while relaxing in the sun on an Oxford rooftop bar?

“You never want to say a climate change story will be a good thing,” said Mr Wood “But as a wine drinker, it might get a bit better.”

The wine paper is available for reading online at iScience. Andrew Wood can be reached at @connectingvinestowines on Instagram. The beer paper is available for reading in Nature Plants.

Image Credit: Fhynek00 // CC-BY-SA-4.0

A taste of Tuscany

Image credit: Johny Georend via Unsplash

My travels through Italy took me to the small Tuscan town of San Gimignano, an undeniable tourist trap, but beautiful and worth it all the same. The Main Street, which traces its origins to the days of the Roman Empire and runs north to south along the length of the village, consisted of 3 types of shop; leather, cheese and wine. Fortunately for me the latter offered tastings at either a low or no cost, and were more than happy to indulge my curiosity about the minutiae of wine produced in the region.

Regional pride was a common theme throughout discussions with the sommeliers I met, who insisted that Tuscan wine, olive oil and really all produce was by far superior to that found elsewhere. The ceramic, clay-like quality of the soil, allows for water retention producing crops saturated with flavour. I was repeatedly told that Tuscan wine has much more body than its French counterparts, with more tannins and acidity, though wines produced on the coast did bear some greater similarity to the French style. One sommelier informed me that the most similar wines to those I tried in San Gimignano were produced in Ukraine before the war due to similarities in soil quality.

My inquiries also led to some insight on food in the region. My favourite dish throughout my time in Italy was the Pappardelle Cinghiale (wild boar) that I ate in San Gimignano, which was reminiscent of a bolognese but lighter, fresher and with melt-in-the-mouth meat. Considered a pest, wild boar are subject to hunting between November and January each year to prevent them from consuming the grapes essential to Tuscany’s famous wines, a point of great pride to locals. I was told in no uncertain terms that supermarket wine was good for cooking, especially for cooking meat, but for drinking it was better to spend the money on a locally sourced bottle not available on supermarket shelves.

Wine was so prevalent throughout my Tuscan culinary experience, it replaced whole courses when dining out. By far my favourite dessert was amaretti biscuits dipped in sweet wine, a reliable classic I found myself returning to time and time again in Tuscany. San Gimignano was no different, though their reverence for wine assured its quality even when only a minor component of the meal. Wine was integral to Tuscan culture, as both a part of their regional identity and an intimate element of social life, held in reverence completely alien to British drinking culture. Commonplace though it is in their cuisine and lifestyle, the consideration for quality and the production process even for casual use in cooking or day to day drinking could only inspire admiration for the care taken in choosing the relatively mundane.

Below I have detailed a few of the wines I sampled throughout my trip, which I felt not only made for an enjoyable drinking experience but were also worth the price – a considerable jump from most supermarket products. 

Falchini Paretaio, 2017

95% Sangiovese, 5% Merlot

This wine was the first I tried, and the only one I ended up purchasing to bring home. It suited my personal tastes being fruity with a good body, and without the bitterness or tart quality sometimes found in heavier wines.

Draco Chianti dei Colli Senesi Riserva, 2019

100% Sangiovese

Much drier than the first wine I sampled this chianti was sharper, and more acid, though retained a berry like taste which made it pleasant to drink and would pair beautifully with a strong cheese.

Mediterra Toscana, 2021

40% Syrah, 30% Merlot, 30% Cabernet Sauvignon

Made in bolgheri, different area to the first two wines and from a completely different mix of grapes, this wine was somewhat drier than the first with a bitter aftertaste which was not unpleasant.

Titolato Colombaia, 2020

Sangiovese with small percentages of other red grapes

This red was a simpler drink, not as flavoursome as the others, though very dry. Aged for one year in a barrel of oak, this light wine was dry enough to make my eyes sting slightly, and personally would not be my first choice unless paired with an equally pungent snack. 

Hydra Il Palagione

100% Vernaccia

A typical, organic San Gimignano white wine. Fairly dry with little flavour.

Il Colombaio di Santachiara, 2021

90% Sangiovese, 10% Merlot

A red, not made in the Chianti area and fruitier than a regular chianti.

Il Colombaio di Santachiara Cremisi, 2022

100% Sangiovese

This wine was the rose counterpart to the last Colombaio. Light and almost juicy in flavour this wine was light and would pair well with fresh greens 

Pergolaia, 2019

76% Sangiovese, 18% Cabernet Sauvignon, 6% Merlot

A full bodied wine, made with a blend of red grapes this was a much more intense wine than those I had sampled so far. The sommelier explained this was a much heavier wine to be drunk in half glasses and certainly not in large quantities.

Il Luoghi Rosso, 2022

Cabernet Sauvignon

Made on the coast of Tuscany, with a fruity but intense raisin smell this wine was incredibly flavourful. Aged for a year it had mellowed giving it a mature taste. 

What can books say that we can’t?

alt= books illustration
CC 1.0, via. RawPixel

As people, we love to talk – to other people, to ourselves, to the mirror (don’t lie, everyone does it!) We all have opinions and that’s fun. We can leave comments and choose to like and dislike things for the world to see, with emojis to help. We can smile, shed a tear, gift a flower, hug someone dear. But I believe that despite our self proclaimed greatness as a human race, there are some things a book can say or do that we simply cannot.

A blanket draped over my bunk bed, in the darkness with a torch in her hand, my mum would read fairy tales to me. Hansel and Gretel and the gingerbread house, Red Riding Hood and her wicker basket, all from the same book passed down thirty years from my father’s childhood. Tattered edges and a big shiny painting of Goldilocks eating the perfect porridge connected me and my mum through tales of magic and kindness and a shared appreciation for Cinderella’s gorgeous glass slippers. Cue to my best friend from second grade forcing me to read Harry Potter. The feeling of excitedly anticipating a letter in the mail, chocolate frogs and binge-watching movie nights was exhilarating (we all know the books are better) and a shared grief for Dumbledore’s death brought us together in a way that nothing else could.

From exploring feminism through the eyes of Austen and Woolf to feeling accepted in the world of Walker and Camus, books took me through a journey through time and the lives of people I wouldn’t have met otherwise. Being gifted All the light you cannot see by Anthony Doerr let me experience the world of a blind girl through descriptions of tactility and olfactory perception; I was with her as she found joy in a city struck by bombs during World War Two, and met a boy that liked birds more than bullets when he wasn’t supposed to. In turn, gifting one of my favorite books, The Color Purple by Alice Walker, allowed me to share my love for the freedom and happiness found by an African-American girl in circumstances that weren’t aligned for her joy. The scene of running through a meadow, perhaps a meadow of hope, filled me with an appreciation for friendship that I have now passed on to my friend.

Feeling the angst of Orwell and Plath and the audacity of Nabokov and Miller was transformative and challenging, leaving me brimming with enough questions to make me rethink my own rationality and beliefs. I embraced the idea that there are things more important than money, love or fame. Things of interest beyond what we see, so fundamentally human yet perplexing and impossible to comprehend, some that made me smile and others that caused confusion. And yet, while I’ve got books, I’ll never see the world the same.

A game of numbers and sleuths, I devoured Agatha Christie’s books as a race to the suspect before the pages would dwindle to an end. Raymond Chandler and Sam Spade showed me who was cool and what was real, and that a book of great one-liners was enough to make a good book great. Under a tree on a windy day, on a picnic by the river engulfed by stress for a collection we didn’t study for, sharing Before the coffee gets cold with my best friend taught me love when you’ve got no time or reason. 

With a book, a line of poetry or even a word that perfectly encapsulates how you feel, you are alive, understood, and have discovered something that only exists here.