Advertisement Just another day at ``Harvard by the Thames.'' No, that's not exactly true. Harvard is Oxford by the Charles. Except that it's in Cambridge, named after the other great British university town. Confusing.
Anyway, back to Oxford. With its ancient colleges sprinkled about the lanes, Oxford is England's oldest university town.
You can easily get there from London by train or bus. But I am a Californian. I rented (Brits call it ``hired'') a car at Heathrow Airport. The trip northwest up the M40 to the sunlit spires of Oxford was supposed to take just less than an hour.
Sure, there were some challenges. Drive on the left side of the road? No problem. Shift with my left hand? I've got it. Unerring sense of direction ...
I've got a problem.
It took me the advertised hour to get from Heathrow to the ring road that circles Oxford. Then I orbited, John Glenn style, for another 90 minutes before lucking upon the gravel drive of Oxford Castle, next to my hotel, the Malmaison.
I am a fan of oddball hotels, and this is one of the oddest in the world. It's the old city jail, and it looks it. Except for the cheery sign with the hotel's name, the dark stone edifice still looked like a place to lock up the bad guys.
The price wasn't cheap — 160 pounds (with our battered currency, double that and you have the price in dollars). It was 20 pounds more for parking, but I asked the desk clerk if there were any car parks nearby and she pointed the way to an open lot just up the street, where the price was 5 pounds. On these little savings, trips are saved.
First a bit about Oxford. I had a very short stay here, so I didn't have time to get out to my favorite country pub, the Trout, in the northern suburb of Wolvercote, which sits beside the Thames next to a small waterfall.
But I arrived early enough that I was able to make my way to Christ Church for Evensong, the daily Anglican song and sermon. Even if you have never been to England you have probably seen Christ Church, either in the Harry Potter movies or for an earlier (read: my) generation, in the old ``Brideshead Revisited'' series on PBS.
The warm evening light was bouncing off ``Old Tom,'' the nickname of the tower over the college entrance. I made my way past the fountain with the statue of Mercury and into the chapel, with its regimental flags of local units and memorials to those killed in old conflicts, from the Boer War to the fields of Flanders in World WarI.
I took my place in the very last seat in the double rows of carved wood seats, farthest from the choir but nearest to the altar. The choir's singing of psalms and anthems was a restful end to a very long day. On the way out, I stopped at the Thomas Becket window, which memorializes the onetime Archbishop of Canterbury, who was murdered at prayer for opposing Henry II.
Summer in the north means the sun sets late, so I wandered the streets, peeking into even the most standoffish of the ``students only'' areas at the colleges, which are scattered around town and together make up the university.
Jet lag began to take its grip, so it was back to the hotel. The Malmaison is a former prison that has kept its interior close to its original form, though rooms have been expanded. The main area is a vaulted three-tiered narrow hall with the former cells — now rooms — lined up in neat rows. The old iron stairways are blocked off but add to the penal character. But this is no hellhole. It's all been painted a bright white, and the old roof has been replaced with one featuring skylights that drench the interior with sunlight.
Still, there are reminders. Rooms are entered through dark metal doors containing bolts and eyeholes (now permanently open). The thick brick walls in the rooms are also painted white, but are still sturdy reminders that the place was built to keep people in.
The vaulting of the room shows that this was actually three cells once separated by walls that have been removed (I have stayed in more than a few English hotel rooms that were rather cell-like).
The high windows with grilling were made to replicate the prison cell bars. The interior is plush, all plaid fabrics and lacquered black wood, with a small but ultramodern flat-screen TV. The big bathroom has a deep, modern-style tub. On a warm, muggy day, the air conditioning worked great (not always a given in even the best British hotels).
An odd bit of Americana: In a modern annex next door, styled in stone to look like part of the castle, was a popular cafe. But not just any cafe. It was a Krispy Kreme. Over the counter was a note from then-Prime Minister Tony Blair, thanking them for the doughnuts provided on a train trip back to London.
Too tired to sit in a restaurant, especially on my own, I strolled up to Chutneys, a great Indian restaurant, to make my takeout order of chicken biryani and peshwari nan (thick doughy bread filled with dried fruits). On the way back, I passed the spot where three bishops were burned at the stake for heresy. Just another street corner in Oxford.
IF YOU GO:
OXFORD INFORMATION CENTRE: 15-16 Broad St., Oxford. Online at www.oxfordcity.co.uk or within Britain, call 01-865-726-871.
MALMAISON OXFORD: If you pay less than $400 a night, consider yourself lucky. But the former prison is a hotel you won't forget. 3 Oxford Castle, Oxford. www.malmaison-oxford.com
