A Strange New Country - 13 June 2001

I have arrived in a strange new country: there are Irish, Italians, Africans, Polish, British, and more. They're all driving around in outlandishly huge cars as if gas were subsidized by a government in the pocket of the oil industry. No, wait... A government that *is* the oil industry. They speak a variety of dialects, all the way from: "Buffy Daaahling, do you remember when weeee were at Hahvuhd?" to "Hey Mickey, let's go down to tha Stah Mahket in Boylston." I am referring, of course, to Boston. I arrived back in the States last Wednesday after spending a final night in Paris with a traveling exchange student from Connecticut who had not slept in a bed or showered in (I'm guessing here) about two weeks. She was grateful for the use of Perrin's vacated half of the hotel room. I was grateful that she hung her shoes outside the window for the night. After Paris, I caught a train through The Chunnel to London, where I stayed in almost-uncomfortably-small hotel room and met up with John and his friend Orika for a fine showing of The King and I. The middle part of the play convinced me to pick up Uncle Tom's Cabin upon arriving in Boston in an attempt to fill in some of the gaping holes in my literary repertoire. My remedial classics studies have been put on hold, however, by the hilarious fictional diary of an unsentimental fourteen-year-old: Youth in Revolt, by C. D. Payne. It is every bit as entertaining as Matt, my high school friend and erstwhile host in Boston, said it would be. My string theory book is also on hold since I am under pain of death to complete and return Youth in Revolt before I leave the city at sundown. I didn't experience very much culture shock during this trip. I think Boston just isn't all that different from London. The first place I visited here in Boston was the MIT Museum. I got a picture of a LISP machine and some cool art/technology pieces. The next day I went to the wonderful Boston Museum of Fine Arts. On Friday, fueled by fond childhood memories, I trekked through Boston's simplistic subway system to the aquarium. It has not aged well. For one thing, it's much smaller than it was 20 years ago. On Saturday, my other high school friend, Cord, and I went to the 100th anniversary of our high school. Definitely felt like a trip through the way-back machine. Many things had changed: the room we shared with four other friends during our senior year had been tragically modernized and subdivided. And many had stayed the same: Mr. Erhard, my addled Freshman dorm-master, looked as if he had been preserved in shellac and I'm happy to say that he has retained 100% of his mental acuity. Sunday we went to a Yankees Suck game. I mean a Red Socks game. Despite the fact that they were playing Philadelphia, Bostonians clearly target the Yankees with the bulk of their ample competitive energies. You were hard-pressed to find a simple Boston Red Socks T-shirt free of Yankee epithets. Woe betide those foolish souls who wore Yankee hats or shirts into the stands. Monday night Cord, Amanda, I, and a bunch of other folks went to see a Black Crowes concert at the Tweeter Center (nee Great Woods Auditorium). While the surprisingly-enjoyable Oasis was warming the stage, those of us in the cheap seats (a big, grassy hill behind the assigned seats) started to feel the first drops of rain. By the time the Black Crowes took the stage, the thunderstorm was in full force. I think there was more applause from my fellow, drenched nosebleeders for the spectacular lightning show than for the band's formidable musical stylings. It truly was a fun experience, though I think I am paying for it with an intensifying sore throat. Today I have a reservation on a 5:35 train to Penn Station. I plan to stay in The City for a few days before heading to my ancestral homeland early next week. In the meantime, have a look at my final set of photos from Europe: http://www.elem.com/~joe/europe-2001/ See ya later! Joe

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