Oxford, England, is sort of like Cambridge: an English college town of cobblestone, people on bikes everywhere, prominent courtyards, and the smell of (English) pies, coffee, beer and literature. But then there's this kind of odd and invasive posh contingent in Oxford. Women stomp passed in fancy clothes on cell phones, faffing about look irritated and rich. I was wearing aviator shades around town, which are like a big bright "I'm American" flag charged with LED lights. I was pleased to do this.
Anyway, down Turl Road, we found a tiny bar aptly titled "Turl Bar." It was at a dead end in a nook that resembled Knockturn Alley from the Harry Potter films: a place where wizards go to stock up on dark tools for dark things.
We went in and I orded a pint of Tetley's, one of only a few beers on tap at Turl Bar. The bartender served it up in a glass pint that said "Tetley's" across the side; it's apparently an English custom to be served beer in an eponymous glass, which was a nice touch.
Tetley's, as it were, is immediately comparable to Guinness: a smooth, almost creamy beer but with a signature bitter bite right at the end. I enjoyed it, as I like beer that has a bit of a kick, but I wasn't bowled over. Incidentally, I'm not a huge fan of Guinness, either, so use that as a measuring stick if you're thinking of picking up a pint.
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