A Coffee Review, of sorts

I think it's no secret that I habitually frequent coffee shops in order to do my work, and so I feel obligated to detail my observations on those found in the Cambridge area. Of course, as in every other modernized country in the world, there is a Starbucks. And as in every other Starbucks chain, the food and drinks are over-priced. Here more so because, I suspect, of the cost of imports, taxes, etc. This is why I've refrained from frequenting the one and only Starbucks in the area, a refreshing change from the scene one may find in, say, NY: a Starbucks every other block. So I'll leave the matter there.

I have instead resorted to Caffe Nero, another coffee chain, I am somewhat embarrassed to admit, that stems from Italy. It reminds me of the pre-2007 Starbucks on Thayer St, which makes it particularly endearing to me. As sad as it sounds, the baristas already know me...

Other places of note include CB2, CB1, and Clowns though they are a bit too far, and so I don't expect to go there often. Overall, these places have one thing in common, and that is the fact that the prices for food and drink when you stay in are more expensive than when you do take-out. Is it meant as a sort of penalty that encourages people to never actually stay in the store? I find this highly unlikely, given that the proprietors of coffee shops love the company, and so this leads me to conclude that a profit motive must somehow be involved. They must be charging extra for the inviting ambience the stores provide, a highly lucrative idea, and one I hope is never imported into the States.

The final place I'll mention is Indigo Coffee House, where I don't frequent to study, for once, but actually socialize. On my first visit, the barista immediately singled us (we were international students from Pembroke numbering 3) out as "The Americans," and continued to expound the various stereotypes he had accumulated about them: loud, obnoxious, unrefined, etc. We, of course, retaliated by pointing out how cold, reserved, and elitist the British are. The thing about the British, and this man was no different, is that they are extremely sarcastic and ironic, with the latter being much more subtle. Thus, the resolution of the conflict was an amicable one, resulting in the formation of the Anglo-American treaty of friendship within the store.

On my second visit, I went with my friend James, who was English both in nationality and course of study. We were discussing our Halloween costumes, and I mentioned I wanted to be Waldo, sparking a heated debate about "Where's Waldo?" as opposed to the UK's "Where's Wally?" At this point, the same barista piped up supporting the latter. Being the only American present this time around, I was rather overwhelmed as other customers joined the debate, and the discussion moved onto whether or not American vocabulary was inferior. Topics included: sweaters vs. jumpers; sneakers vs. trainers; pants vs. trousers; crew vs. rowing, etc. Anyways, the basis of the barista's argument for Wally as opposed to Waldo was that there was never anybody good with the name of Waldo, a direct reference to Ralph Waldo Emerson. This guy had recently graduated from University studying English, and apparently hated the works of Emerson and Ernest Hemingway the most. James and I immediately attempted to change his opinion to no effect, but the discussion, as always, was extremely enjoyable. In case you were wondering, my arguments were just as petty: the name of Wally conjured up in my mind the hideous image of the Red Sox's mascot (sorry, Red Sox fans). If his name had been spelled Wall-E, matters may have been different.

This place really encapsulates why I love coffee shops so much, and that is because they really provide a kaleidoscopic view of the different topics of interest and types of people one may find in contemporary society. I apparently fall into the category of taciturn loners who prefer to work in the margins of society, or something like that. Well, at least I'm not an overly-sensitive, loquacious highbrow! . . . says the Cambridge student. Oh, the irony.

Will you be my swine flu friend?

Classrooms are deathtraps. Seriously. I noticed this during my first lecture of today, where there was quite an increase in the number of attendants. The lecture was History of the Ancient Mediterranean, and so the students not only included those from the Classics department, but also those from History. We all squeezed into the tiny classroom, the lecturer shut all the windows, and the symphony of sniffles then commenced. Coughs came from one direction and sneezes from another, making it quite impossible to listen to the lecture properly. Even worse, the likelihood of my getting sick is now a guarantee. In fact, I'm sure I've already got a bit of a tickle in my throat!

Quite a few Cambridge students have already caught Swine Flu, and its treatment is very different from what Brown has outlined. Back in the states, whenever my friends and I heard someone had been quarantined for Swine Flu, we laughed, as horrible as that sounds. More often than not, the victim himself/herself laughed along with us and ignored the quarantine. Here, the infected are not allowed out of their rooms, and the bathrooms they use becomes off-limits as well. These infected are identifiable from the signs on their doors, which most noticeably, and rather unfortunately, feature an unhappy face. It's almost like how FEMA marked the doors of houses during Katrina to count the dead. How sad is that?

Anyways, I have been required, as all Pembroke students have, to list down two "Swine Flu Friends" who can look after me (or rather yell through the barricaded door of my room from time to time) in the event that I become infected as well. So a common soundbyte of Cambridge students' conversations on the streets, in the libraries, dorms, etc, is, "Will you be my swine flu friend?" It does sound quite ridiculous, but is apparently quite necessary as Pembroke constantly reminds me that I probably, no definitely will get Swine Flu. Of course, I'm still new to the area, and am not quite sure whom I can trust with such a demanding task. So here's me asking: will you be my swine flu friend?

Room with a view

Only a full week in Cambridge, and I feel like I've been here forever. The first week here is called Fresher's Week, which I suppose is like Orientation. The major difference, though, is that they try to keep us from sleeping as much as possible. Every hour of my days and nights is spent meeting supervisors, sitting in lectures, attending social events and tea parties, etc. Not that I'm complaining! Cambridge is beautiful, and I really don't think I've seen anything like it. I really need to get a bike, though, and then I'll be a true Cambridge student.

I live in one of the Red Buildings, which are some of the older dorms of the college. Exactly the way I like it. My room is about the size of a double back at Brown, but I have it all completely to myself! I also have an awesome view of the college library, the interior of which is beautiful if somewhat lacking in its book collection.

My third day at Pembroke was Matriculation, and what an incredibly formal affair it was! We were quite a sharply dressed group in our college robes. The day began with a sort of ceremony in the Old Library, where we all signed our names into a book and became official members of the college for "now and forever." The speech by the Praelector, who is incidentally my Director of Studies, was extremely formal, and I suspect that it's the same speech that has been given for at least the past 100 years. Later on we had a group photo, and the night ended with Formal Hall. I couldn't take a picture, but it is exactly like Harry Potter without the floating candles and wizard hats. We really did look like this.

I've never had to drink so much wine in one night as I have had to here. They first pour us a full glass of white wine, then another glass of red wine, and finally another glass of red wine to toast the queen. The night, however, had been started even earlier with drinks with our Tutors. So by the end of all this, I had had at least 4 cups of wine. The toast to the Queen, however, was a bit of an interesting affair. Some people obviously didn't do it, and the reasons, I have since found, are generally the following: (1) they're Irish; (2) they're American; or (3) they generally despise monarchies.

The dinner finally ended with a speech from the Grandmaster. This was first signaled by a gong. A gong! The Grandmaster then welcomed us all and discussed the values of the college, which could all be summarized in the 5 C's. I don't really remember any of them except Community, but the Grandmaster joked about how much he like C's, and that's when I learned that he had previously been a C! C is the head of MI6, and apparently, if he puts his hand on your shoulder as he leaves the hall, he is inviting you to join MI6. Pembroke truly does have a bit more intrigue than Brown. Looks like it's going to be an interesting year!

Salve atque Vale

It's my last day in the states, and I'm really thinking about how much I'll miss RI, particularly at this time of the year. New England is truly at its best during the fall, since that's when so many vibrant colors begin to appear, even more so (I think) than in the spring. It's nice to look up and see the leaves all different shades of green, red, orange, and yellow. It reminds me of Sony Bravia's brilliant tv ads about color.

There are many other ads, but this one's just my favorite (though most people seem to like the paint ad best). Why I love this ad more than any other is its simplicity and beauty. How nice would life be to just look around you and see all that color in the air, to just roll through life at that pace and with that song in the background? I think that would be the most pleasant way of life of all.

Anyways, I was just thinking about all this when I drove by the pumpkin sale in Barrington yesterday. I may be leaving before the leaves are all rosy and golden, but at least I caught the pumpkins. Pumpkins and orange everywhere!

I know I'm also going to miss Brown. It may be pathetic that I'm actually going to miss SCHOOL, but I really do believe that the campus is beautiful (under favorable weather conditions). No more lounging on the greens, trekking up and down college hill, studying in the Rock, or grabbing a drink from the Blue Room or Blue State. I know I'll be able to find new favorite pastimes and habitual haunts soon enough, though.

This last inscription on the right of the Van Wickle Gates is from Cicero's "Pro Archia." I think this phrase will fit quite nicely in my new school setting. And so, farewell, Brown.

HAEC STUDIA

ADULESCENTIAM ALUNT

SENECTUTEM OBLECTANT

SECUNDAS RES ORNANT

ADVERSIS PERFUCIUM

AC SOLACIUM

PRAEBENT