One of the most photographed streets in Oxford (and probably the UK), High Street (or The High) was described by Thomas Hardy in 'Jude The Obscure' - "And there's a street in the place — the main street — that ha'n't another like it in the world."
It is lined with college buildings from Oxford University, churches, historic buildings and coffee houses from Carfax through the Magdelen Bridge. It's an obvious starting point in the exploration of the city – although with its many tempting alleyways to explore, you may soon find yourself veering away from it and returning several hours later having explored in a completely unplanned itinerary. If anything, this is the hardest thing about wandering around the city - it's incredibly difficult to try and plan! Best thing is to simply wander and see where you end up....
A wealth of new and old culture blend to give Oxford's high st a very pleasent charm.Along with all the usual high st.shops and stores you find in any city center are historic and cultural buildings such as 'universaties,libary's and museums.We walked around for several hours taking in the various sights and sounds,a lot of buskers and street mimes around and the usual coffee stands and political rantings from some unusual individuals indeed.
Good news for women, like any other cities, Oxford also has High Street. Go on girls make your day and shop around.
There are various kind of shop and mostly it is crowded with locals and tourists.
There are variety of restaurants are also waiting to satisfy your starve.
The High Street's quite nice actually. Lots of intimidating colleges, and by night, intimidating kebab carts. Don't worry about the kebab blokes. They only want to serve you some of the foulest dreck ever conjured up on English soil. And let's face it, the English aren't particularly noted for their culinary genius. Now I've had kebabs all over. In Berlin, they're masterful creations, with enough of that garlic sauce to make you smile, and fresh veggies and tasty lamb. Mmm-mm-good.
In Oxford, I made the fatal error of eating a kebab before drinking. Foolish, foolish move. My friend Cassandra (not her real name, but oddly appropriate) tried in vain to keep me from eating the foul goo, but I did not believe. I had been waylaid by hopes of Turkish delight. Not to be had. Apparently kebabbery skill (or perhaps kebabbing) failed to arrive in Oxfordshire. Absolute disaster. And Cassandra giggled at me for a good half hour as I tried to find dark alleyways where I could part company with the nasty industrial-waste-in-a-pita. Not a happy adventure.
the photo gives a good view of "historic Oxford" - and also of the dampness of the city on an early spring day