Saturday the 21st of January 2006
I can never sleep exceptionally soundly when I’m in an unfamiliar place. I have to be tired as hell to do so. My mind has a tendency to shut off and my eyes may be closed, but the rest of my body is on alert. It’s quacky.
Once we dispelled all traces of “hey we just woke up”, we were on our way out the door. First stop: Harvard University.
The jaunt to campus was brisk. The weather was pretty temperate, but the occassional wind was enough to make your ears sting. It was supposed to get much warmer by the afternoon, which is why I walked out the door in just the fleece part of my Columbia jacket.
My sister pointed out various buildings and the historical facts she knew about the place. For example, on one of the buildings, the Harvard Crest is still the old way: two open books and one closed book. The two open ones were to represent the knowledge already gained while the third book represented everything we had yet to learn. I guess there was some controversy over the changing of the crest a couple of years ago. It’s now three open books.
The campus was nothing like I pictured it…it was actually kind of dull. Stephie said that other Ivys had much prettier campuses. It was still historical nonetheless. She showed up the Law Library, where on the fourth floor they were testing some secret weapon or some such. Why they were doing so in the Law Library is beyond me. The room is now the rare books room. She finds it amusing. She wanted to take us in there, but the room was closed.
Their library is pretty cool. It even has a bean bag room, but Stephie doesn’t recommend going in there much. I guess it’s the place to go for sex.
The people at Harvard get lockers. All the buildings are connected by underground tunnels and they are lined with lockers. Yeah, I know. Lots of campuses feed their students that lie that there are underground tunnels and what not, but Harvard acutally has them. Stephie said that she sees the dean walking through the tunnels every once in a while. It was such a different world to me.
We walked through Harvard Yard thereafter. My sister pointed out that all undergraduate freshmen are required to live in one of the dorms that border the Yard (Quad to us state school folk) and that while many movies are filmed “on location”, they are not allowed inside any of the buildings. Stephie said that Elle Woods’ classrooms were a thousand times better than the ones she takes classes in!
She pointed out the water pump, which is famous for some reason or another. She herself can’t fathom why the hell tourists like to pump the water. She also forbade us to take a picture of John Harvard. She said that she finds the tourists who take pictures of him annoying. It’s not like the statue on the Yard is the only one on campus! Joanne and I were content just to walk by.
Stephie took us down to Radcliffe, which she described as posher than Harvard. Just walking down the street and glancing at the houses, I couldn’t help but think she was right. It was in the Radcliffe area that I found some incredibly pretty houses to consider for the Lint Wars. I only took a picture of one, but there were at least three other ones I had my eye on.
We decided to take the T into the Park Street station rather than walk. We arrived at Boston Common and were going to take to the Freedom Trail — a path marked with red paint or red brick that follows to some of the more historical places in Boston. Joanne and I decided that Stephie is a lousy tour guide. She pointed out a couple buildings saying that they were important for some reason or another, but she didn’t know why.
One of the most amusing buildings we passed was the old court house, now a Kelly’s Steak House. We totally wanted to go in, but it was but 10:00 in the morning or so. Steak and eggs are great, but we were trying to make this visit an affordable one. We did, however, go to the Omni Parker House to sample a true Boston Cream Pie. This place is supposedly the birth place of the Boston delight, as well as the Parker House Roll.
The ambience in the hotel was daunting. Stephie said she had Law School Prom there. I felt uncomfortable but followed suit since I was not the only one wearing jeans in our group. The dining room was very elegant and I could see why the place was famous. I could only imagine what it must be like to be a guest at that hotel.
The Boston Cream Pie was really incredibly savory, not as in a meat pie kind of savory, as in “Damn, this is a great pie!” We were just about the only patrons eating.
Satisfied with our first official historical venture, we took leave to see other sites. We walked through Park Street Church’s cemetary, where John Hancock and various other patriots were buried. Some of the gravestones were so faded it was incredibly difficult to read who was buried where.
We continued down the Freedom Trail, walking to Faneuil Hall which is a place where protesters would gather. Our next stop on our tour was The Union Oyster House for lunch. (Yes, I know, we just had a Boston Cream pie, but it was split three ways and Stephie seemed intent on feeding us.)
We sat at the bar, which for those of you who plan on checking out Boston, is the thing to do! I admit, I was a little uncomfortable at first — the whole trip seemed to be like that and it was slow getting over — but once the Oyster Shuckers started chatting it up with us, I relaxed. They were so great! The couple on my left were pretty easy-going, too. Stephie ordered us a bowl of New England Clam Chowdah (yes, I spelled it like that) each and a half a dozen oysters for us to share.
The Shuckers were incredibly amusing and there was no doubt in my mind that I was in Boston…their accents were so thick!! They chatted up with us, and by chatted I mean flirted, about various things from football to how incredibly handsome the head Shucker (who I’ll just call “Red”) was. He remembered my sister from when she was in there with Kyle and he commented on how he always remembers the pretty ones — he was sure to remember the three of us!
A point of interest during our lunch was the huge nine pound lobster that they had displayed in the window the restaurant. The lady next to me and I named him Lobby, after the Simpsons’ lobster. “I totally want to take a picture!”
The chowdah was the best I had ever tasted! The Shuckers insisted that we eat it with corn bread and gave us a piece each. Next, Red placed the oysters in front of us, pointing out which ones were which. Mind you, you have to create the voice in your head because I can’t capture the accent well: “These here are from Chesapeake Bay and these three are the sweeter ones, just for you three lovely ladies.”
The plate was on the other side of me, so I didn’t have to worry about the oysters for the time being. I hadn’t told any of them that I had never had oysters before and hoped that maybe no one would notice if I didn’t eat any.
Like that was going to happen with the Shuckers standing right there. Red had to leave the bar for a moment, but one of the others noticed that I was not trying them. He put the plate closer to me and said I had to take my share before they were gone. It was about now that my sister realized I had never eaten oysters and thus there was no chance in hell I was leaving the infamous Union Oyster House without eating one.
The Shucker explained how to eat them. “First, you put a little bit of the horse raddish on the top.” His accent was slightly different from his counterparts, sounded like a mixture between Bostonian and African. “Then you put the cocktail sauce on top of that. Just like that, yeah. And last, you put on the cracker.” He had Joanne open the cracker bag for me and I put it on top, joking that this is just a ploy.
“You don’t need half of the stuff on here, do you? You guys are just trying to see how much stuff you can get the oyster virgin to try.”
I was rewarded with a few laughs.
“Now you take the fork and just shove it in your mouth.”
I stared at first the Shucker, then my sister, who nodded. “Come on, it’s really easy!”
The couple on my left agreed. “Just close your eyes and shovel it in,” said my fellow Lobby lover.
With a dark look towards my sister I growled, “I hate you.” But I closed my eyes and ate my first oyster.
Really, it wasn’t bad at all. I tasted the kick of the horse raddish more than the oyster itself. I lost the cracker, though. But all in all, it wasn’t a bad first go.
“There really isn’t much chewing,” said the woman. She and her friend were just about to leave. “Hope you like the oysters! Next thing you know you’ll be eating Lobby over there.”
She and I shared a smile before they left.
As the meal was winding down, my instrucor Shucker let me take a picture with Lobby. He held him up while my sister snapped the photo. Red had also returned and started singing a song about shucking oysters. They told us a little bit about how many oyters they’ll end up shucking and how busy it gets in the summer time.
We bid our new friends farewell and took our leave. Red said he hoped to see us again. After we left, Stephie recounted her first experience there to us. “When Kyle and I were there, we sat right by the owner. I dropped one of my oysters and she told me to ask him for another one. At first, I didn’t think he heard me, but then he handed me one of the biggest, most delicious oysters I had ever tasted. He took real good care of us.”
We walked off our lunch by passing through Little Italy on the way to the North End. Our target was Paul Revere’s house. We didn’t end up going in, strangely enough, because we didn’t feel like paying. But we walked around the building and read the sign. Continuing on the Freedom trail, we walked through an enclosed courtyard area that had more historical facts bronzed along the walls as it led up to one of the historical churches.
Once again, as we made our way through Little Italy, my sister had us stop off for a cannoli at one of the pastery shops in the area. Joanne and I looked at each other with a kind of, “I can’t believe we’re eating again” expression. Despite telling her we were still full from lunch, Stephie insisted on taking a couple of bites at least.
It was off to the Museum of Fina Arts thereafter. Thankfully, we took the T there. I don’t think I could have walked the whole way!
I enjoyed walking around the MFA, although admittedly I’m not much of a fine arts lover. It was more of my dad’s thing; he is, after all, an artist. They were having a special exhibit of Picasso and the some of his contemporaries like Rodin. I took particular interest in the Japanese swordcraft exhibit, although I was disappointed that they had more of the sword guards than any swords.
My sister managed to fall asleep at various points of our wanderings. I teased her about it as we continued on to the second floor. We breezed through the China exhibit and then Stephie told us she would meet us in the coffee shop downstairs. I had half a mind to join her considering my right foot was beginning to protest movement. I had stepped on it funny and twisted something or another, or so it felt.
I wanted my fifteen dollars’ worth, so I yelled at my foot (literally) and wandered about on my own. I came across some really pretty portraits and hoped to find The Accolade . (I didn’t.) I stared at one painting for a while, though. I was amazed at how the artist managed to capture the flowing silk gown on the canvas. It was so plainly silk but I was having trouble wrapping my brain around the concept of painting the fabric.
I don’t know about Joanne, but I for one was happy to call it a day. We took a bus back to Cambridge and were content to just hang out. Janna was there upon our return and she sat and chatted with us while Joanne and Stephie drank their tea and I my coffee. She is from Braintree, a suburb of Boston, and had gone to school with Stephie. I told my sister later that i thought Janna was pretty cool and she confided to me that Janna was her favorite roommate.
We were supposed to go out to dinner, but opted to order-in instead. I was happy for that, too, because my right foot decided to be a jack ass thus causing a minor limp. Stupid foot.
“I’m heartbroken, Stephie. You said we would go clubbing. I had my heart set on it. I even brought the black pants you told me to.” I really did bring the pants, but I was thrilled we decided not to go. Even my sister was too tired.
We ended up watching Mean Girls and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind instead. How sad is that? (I fell asleep during Eternal Sunshine.)
All in all, not a bad day in Boston. No hellworthy sightings…but I wasn’t looking…that hard. Really.