I See London, I See France... (Or, A Question of Place)

Before I stepped on the plane bound for London Heathrow airport, I promised myself two things: one, I would never take pictures of old buildings that nobody cares about, and two, I would never, ever take selfies in front of them.

Within a month’s time, I broke both of those rules.

Granted, I have a pretty good reason: Oxford is ripe with beautiful architecture and scenery. It feels like everywhere I turn, I’m in a new fairy tale. The dreaming spires, the winding passageways, and the crooked cobblestones have etched their way onto my heart like I would never have imagined just a month ago.

But in reality, most of these photographic abominations have resulted from my trip to Munich and Paris last week. The rich culture behind every column and the history behind every monument was enchanting. Mostly, though, I was awestruck by how the style of architecture varied between countries almost as much as the culture and opinions did. Each place I visited seems defined by certain aspects of habits, attitudes, customs, and beliefs, all of which are tied to the collective conscious of the people living there. Which raises a question about place: are we defined by the place, or does the place define us?

I think there's a distinction between the two. If a place defines you, you have chosen that place and allowed its culture/custom/environment to influence who you become. But being defined by a place is inherently different; the place has chosen you, not vice-versa. And because the place was not deliberately chosen but rather a matter of haphazard circumstance, something about it settles into your soul in a more purposeful and permanent way, coming to define your very existence.

It is truly a different way of life in mainland Europe. While in Paris, I felt fully assimilated into a typical Parisian lifestyle—I ate dinner at 8 p.m., I watched rugby while snacking on baguettes and cheese, and I learned the art of a curt “no, merci!” aimed at every street vendor who approached me. And when I had the opportunity to speak with young Parisians about their viewpoints and opinions, what they said resonated with me because it was so different from my own attitudes. As young adults themselves, they were of course interested in topics such as unemployment and higher education. They explained why they favored the European Union and greatly detested genetically-modified organisms. Talking to them, I felt myself gaining a broader awareness of global attitudes as well as a more well-rounded perspective of what Paris is truly like, outside of the tourist hotspots like the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower.

Yet there is something about living in a place—not as a tourist, but as a resident—that encourages true integration into the area’s unique culture and customs. Oxford is starting to become that place for me. From Oxford Union debates to high table dinners, taking part in the centuries-old traditions, passed down for generations through prestigious names and honorable scholars, has made me feel unified with a place that was once completely foreign. This enchanting little town is beginning to feel like mine now, just like the breathtaking Texas sunsets and rolling Arkansas hills do. While Paris might have defined me and my new perspective of the world, I have been defined by Oxford.

While we are on the topic of place, the wise Maya Angelou once wrote: "You only are free when you realize you belong to no place--you belong to every place--no place at all." Traveling has taught me that I can make a home out of anywhere--a couch, a tent, a train station. The world is at my fingertips, and every new place will define who I am. But there is something special about returning to the familiarity of a place you have made yours.

I am proud to now call Oxford my home.