| Harvard. Cambridge.
What a difference being across the river from Boston makes.
Once you get past the snobbery of all things Harvard (and Boston, in
a larger sense), everything becomes a bit cooler. Harvard
Square was destroyed a long time ago by the influx of chain stores,
restuarants and accepted standards of suburban living a long time
ago, but Central Square still has managed to keep its dirty sheen.
I passed up a long day on the bus traveling to NYC, so I decided
to head to the Fogg and see what art Harvard had on its walls this
day. It never lets me down, unlike the constant problems I
have with Boston's MFA. They've got a great and quietly
expansive collection that has a strong dose of German Expressionism
tinged with classical works from Ingres, Ruebens and the like.
I spent half a day carelessly roaming around and running into
old friends. As drained
for culture Central Texas is, I carefully surveyed the museum,
circled back for a few second helpings, and then left, inspired by
some fabulous Soutines and a crisp Klimt and Schiele show.
Afterwards, I met up with Haulie, and resumed one of my old Irish
identities of Haulie Do. Haulie was my housemate in Ireland
for three months. Due to fate, he arrived at the midpoint of
my three month stay, but after it was extended, he left at the
actual midpoint of my yearlong stay. In those three months, we
downed lots of Murphy's, became
infatuated with hurling, invented the new sport of American
Cricket, and held our own as Americans living in Ireland fairly
well.
We met at Harvard Square, and we ducked into a hip pizza place
and ordered up two delicious pizzas. We got carded ordering
Murphy's, and Haulie knew what was coming before I could smile.
After the waitress handed me back my license, I handed it to Haulie
and said, "You know how long I've waited for this?" He shook
his head and grudgingly offered a half disgusted yes. During
our tenure in Cork, I would carry my passport with me because it
listed my place of birth as New York. Haulie argued that I was
actually from Massachusetts, a fact I freely and correctly denied,
and was offended I wouldn't use my Mass. driver's license.
After heading out and into his new local, we downed enough of the
old Cork Stout to put a wander in my step and catch up on
plenty of old times. We headed back to see his
college dorm - he just finished up his two years at the Harvard
Business School. I got to look out at Boston from his elevnth
floor balcony, and then we both had to run, so we parted ways.
I somehow got lost on the way back to Harvard Square, and while
wandering, and calling people telling them I may never see them
again, I found a folded piece of paper on the ground. Written
in German, it was a shopping list, with casual items - sausage,
carrots, tomatoes, etc. What was more interesting was what the
list was written on - a DNA code with 8 1/2 x 11 inches of genetic
information.
Only in Cambridge.
Click Here to head on over to part ten: EMC
|
The People's Republik
My old stomping grounds.
|
