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Getting Dressed Up at Oxford
When back-regions become front-regions, and vice-versa.
Authenticity is a tough nut to crack. It is hard to get beyond the "front" zones, especially when studying abroad. One tends to slip into a routine of necessities rather than penetrating into a more authentic space, as MacCannell describes it. I am spending spring break this week in the UK, the most English-speaking region during my travels so far, and I wonder if the common (posted) language causes travelers to seek out authentic situations and be curious about the country more with the mutually-understood language, or if it precludes the type of mythologized romanticism that develops for countries with unfamiliar languages (such as Hungary or, the spell of the German countries which I think I have fallen under).
No matter. So far, here in England, my first authentic situation may have come about in Oxford, where I was staying with a friend who is a student at one of the colleges there. We were walking to dinner after dusk, and I saw a man slip from one imposing academic building into the basement of another. He was dressed in archaic looking robes and carrying a staff or torch and looked like an extra on the set of Harry Potter (incidentally, partially filmed at Oxford’s Christchurch College). The only other people there who looked like they were in costume were the men in bowler hats who keep throngs of tourists visiting the site of the oldest English-speaking university to the predetermined "front spaces" and off the lawns. I asked my friend if, like the grounds’ guards, he was just another staff member dressed up for some theatrical or reenactment reason, but she said that he was probably coming from Hall Dinner, a formal dining event for staff and students, and that she had a similarly foreign outfit herself.
At the point at which once-traditional activities deviate so thoroughly from modern practices as to become special, almost artificial events, do they themselves become "front" spaces for show and ostentatious display rather than, as previously, a domain of authenticity inhabited by an exclusive circle? Does students and faculty playing dress up at a bimonthly dinner constitute a ‘front’ that the school puts up for itself? The archaic division of schools and grades that dictate where certain individuals may or may not go on the grounds, does anybody still care, or does this back-zone practice only exist as a show in the front? (Also the way that ‘first class’ tickets on regional trains mean almost nothing and are therefor almost always empty and appear to be regarded as something of a joke.) Perhaps this is just my Americanized eye, highly weary of formalized class and social divisions, cast over a similar society that I can relate to in the broad sense, but of which I do not necessarily fully understand the fine details. Again, do we feel more at home in a country where we comprehend the language but the undertones deeply differ, or in the ‘Americanized’ front-zones of foreign environments, where we can bask in the exotic rather than be frustrated by nuances.
No matter. So far, here in England, my first authentic situation may have come about in Oxford, where I was staying with a friend who is a student at one of the colleges there. We were walking to dinner after dusk, and I saw a man slip from one imposing academic building into the basement of another. He was dressed in archaic looking robes and carrying a staff or torch and looked like an extra on the set of Harry Potter (incidentally, partially filmed at Oxford’s Christchurch College). The only other people there who looked like they were in costume were the men in bowler hats who keep throngs of tourists visiting the site of the oldest English-speaking university to the predetermined "front spaces" and off the lawns. I asked my friend if, like the grounds’ guards, he was just another staff member dressed up for some theatrical or reenactment reason, but she said that he was probably coming from Hall Dinner, a formal dining event for staff and students, and that she had a similarly foreign outfit herself.
At the point at which once-traditional activities deviate so thoroughly from modern practices as to become special, almost artificial events, do they themselves become "front" spaces for show and ostentatious display rather than, as previously, a domain of authenticity inhabited by an exclusive circle? Does students and faculty playing dress up at a bimonthly dinner constitute a ‘front’ that the school puts up for itself? The archaic division of schools and grades that dictate where certain individuals may or may not go on the grounds, does anybody still care, or does this back-zone practice only exist as a show in the front? (Also the way that ‘first class’ tickets on regional trains mean almost nothing and are therefor almost always empty and appear to be regarded as something of a joke.) Perhaps this is just my Americanized eye, highly weary of formalized class and social divisions, cast over a similar society that I can relate to in the broad sense, but of which I do not necessarily fully understand the fine details. Again, do we feel more at home in a country where we comprehend the language but the undertones deeply differ, or in the ‘Americanized’ front-zones of foreign environments, where we can bask in the exotic rather than be frustrated by nuances.
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