Day 136: Cambridge St.

Don't think I mention it very often, but one of the more diverse and interesting roads in the area, it seems to me, is Cambridge St. (in Cambridge -- it definitely goes into other cities as well, and is called Cambridge St. still at least in Boston).  Many of today's activities centered around this street.

First, in the morning I was still on move-the-boys duty (and move-my-stuff-into-their-closet-for-storage, for they were kind enough to let my things live there for a week!).  I met them at the new place, just off of Cambridge, and followed G. back in the Jeep.  After some brunch at the Friendly Toast and some errands, they were left to make crucial decision like who gets what room, and I decided to take the opportunity to take a rest.

Later this evening, I met up with several friends (one who was leaving soon for the UK, and whom I might not see again before I leave the city for good.  We convened at R.F. O'Sullivans, a pub on Cambridge, and had some dinner and drinks.  We toyed around with the idea of heading to D.'s for a guitar/singalong session, but decided in the end to have D. come out and meet us just down the street at Starlite Lounge (a kitschy diner/bar evocative of the 50s).  Which was a better plan in the end, because apparently word got out on the street -- i.e., some of us passed some friends on the way, and we were joined by another set of folks nearly doubling our size.  It was a relaxing night out that ended very early (which was quite fine by me).

Day 135: The beauty of chaos (i.e. moving day in Cambridge)

There is a sort of beauty about moving, even within a city.  A sadness that comes with leaving something behind (at least a partial sadness, even if there's also something good in that); and an excitement for some uncertainty in the future.  Presumably moving usually entails moving forward, and that's a good thing.

In the greater Boston area, Moving Day is a Thing.  Although it is not impossible to get an apartment at various points throughout the year, it is almost certain that if you are going to move out at the end of the summer / move in at the beginning of fall (read: the school year), you are going to be moving out on August 31 and moving in on September 1.  It's a Thing to the extent that radio stations talk about it and multiple friends of mine posted status messages on Facebook on how it was the best scavenging-for-furniture-on-the-side-of-the-road day of the year.  And oh, boy, did we (mostly I) ever help contribute to that.

For me, this moving day mostly meant making sure that 1) all of my things were safely out of my apartment and into my mom's Jeep by the end of the night and 2) making sure that our apartment was moderately clean.  But first, I had to also make sure that three pieces of furniture (two desks and an enormous bookshelf) were removed from the apartment and deposited at three different locations (three very lovely friends') houses.

For my roommates (the boys that is) and their three other roomies-to-be, it also meant moving 1) furniture and belongings from our house; 2) belongings from a friend's house where two of them are currently staying; 3) furniture and belongings from G's house; and 4) a couch and many belongings that were currently being stored at MIT.  And that meant that they had to 1) retrieve a truck from Penske in Medford, 2) load it with all those things (after they helped me out by driving around some of my bigger pieces), 3) park the truck in Belmont at a friend's place, and 4) somehow get back to Cambridge before 5) retrieving truck from Belmont tomorrow and 6) unloading it at their new place and returning it in Medford.

I'll spare you any further details, but somehow all of today's work was accomplished (with a lot of fun Penske-truck-riding by me and Penske-truck-driving by G, and a lot of interim driving by me; note the analog "GPS" in my car pictured above, for part of the journey).  There were some really fun bits (D. stopped by and somehow procured dinner #1 for some of us; dinner #2 was served later thanks to my mom, who remotely bought us food!; E. was around for a while during the time I was packing up tiny things and having to make lots of decisions about what would stay and what would go; etc.).  There were also some really sad bits (making those decisions; looking at the pile of my belongings that was accumulating outside beside the dumpster and watching things being taken; the final moments after Z. and I finished up with the cleaning and took our final picture in the place...).  And then there were some amazing bits -- mostly the fact that my mom's Jeep, now named Red Yoshi by E. and me, is a miracle machine and can fit extraordinary amounts of things inside it.  I didn't crack yet -- no tears -- but I can tell it's coming.  Luckily I have a four-to-five-day drive in which to worry about such things :-/.

Good-bye to 905, and until soon, Jack in the Box.

Day 134: Indiana in Cambridge

This last trip to Indiana, I brought a little bit of it back with me to Cambridge.  That little bit being in the form of fresh sweet corn from my dad's garden (delicious).  I got back in town around 4 or 5pm, and headed over to D's soon after -- he was to host a dinner party for a friend who was coming in front out of town (another soul displaced from Cambridge to the West, though in her case, Seattle).  Anyhow, he incorporated the bit of Indiana into the stir-fry concoction (which was delicious), and created the above fruit salad, all locally grown and foraged from area trees the fruits of which would otherwise have been forgotten. (None were forgotten by us!)

The evening ended with a nice group of friends singing at with our favorite LBK B, B11.  Note the spooning action going on in the above fruit picture, by the way.  I think today can be considered the day that the emotional aspect of all of this saying good-bye to things started to hit me, as I am getting emotional thinking about the tenderness of the spoons, symbolizing all of us sharing the bowl of fruit [someone snap me out of this!].

Day 133: The joys of living near NYC

I'll keep this brief.  One of the best joys about living in Cambridge?  The joy of living close to NYC. The above picture is taken upon leaving, but tonight, I was arriving, late-night style.  Over the course of the last four years I've taken several ventures into the city -- one of the most memorable was coming back from a neuroscience conference in D.C. with a classmate and one of our friends.  We drove in from the south and got this incredible view of Manhattan while entering Brooklyn from the south.  Coming in from the East today yielded great (if not so spectacular) night-time views of the city.  In contrast, the traffic was quite spectacular -- you would have thought it was mid-day, if not rush-hour, and it was nearly four in the morning (don't let the time stamp fool you).

And of course, a related joy of NYC is that bars are still open at this hour, so when B. said he was still out upon my arrival (and that he was going to take a cab home because if he took the subway, I would actually _beat_ him), I scoffed and told him I'd swing by and pick him up.  This was accomplished in time for last call, as he was finishing up outside.  Just nuts.  I somehow suspect that living 2 hours from L.A. will have quite different repercussions from living 4 outside of NYC...

Day 132: Consignment v. Thrift

Today was one of the last days I'll call 905 Main my home.  Mom and I packed up Yoshi (nearly getting a non-moving-violation ticket for it) and headed back to Indiana.  But first, I rushed all over town attempting to get rid of a lot of my things in an organized fashion as I could.  I had carefully folded clean clothing and packed it into bags, thinking I'd sell what I could to a local thrift shop and then donate the rest to Good Will in Central.

First, the plan was to attempt to sell various things to the Garment District, a fun spot in the area for costume-shopping and also for thrifting.  However, I managed to arrive on the one day of the week they do not accept items for buying.

Ok, then.  Off to Poor Little Rich Girl, a consignment shop which just moved from Porter Square not too long ago to near Inman.  Upon arrival, I learned a few things.  Its employees are not timely (one was arriving as I pulled in, something like 30 minutes after the posted opening time), and consignment stores are different from thrift store.  For one, this one required appointments, and for two, consignment = you are paid when your shit sells. Oh. That one wasn't gonna work well.

Third stop, Boomerang's.  Donation only.  Might as well go to Good Will directly in that case, so first I tried...

Fourth stop, Buffalo Exchange, in Davis.  I think the grand total for stuff was $18.  Heh, still probably more (barely!) than the gas I had used in driving around town!  But it was a nice little tour of local shops?  Dragged everything else to Good Will, except for books, which went to Boomerang's (I feel like they get organized much more nicely there, and it's also a good cause).

And then we were on the road -- just two Troyer gals, a chest-of-drawers, a trunk packed full of god-knows-what, and one rotund cat, pictured above, not looking too happy about the prospect of being in a car for 15 hours.

Day 128: Opening night

In my head for I don't even know how long today has been the song "Opening Night" from the Producers. "Will it flop, or will it go?!" An exciting day on so many fronts.  First, my mom came in this afternoon, and she decided she had it in her to come to our opening performance (thank goodness--I'm convinced it was her laughter that got the crowd going! her, and a few other key presences which really made it for us).  So thrilling -- I can't really describe another sensation quite like having no idea how something is going to go.  Sure, last night's dress rehearsal was our best yet -- but that didn't necessarily mean it was objectively _good_.

After Mom got in, I showed her my apartment, and then we left shortly after to do a drive-by near MGH (where both of tonight's cops work, in their day jobs :)) and picked up D. and S.  The drive to Georgetown was certainly interesting with our crew, and once we got to G'town there was a flurry of hair and makeup behind the stage, somehow much of which was caught on film by G., who brought a very nice camera in to document (above, you can see me as Chris Gorman through his lens).

And then it was time.  My character is the first to appear on stage [I'm now having flashbacks to an 8th-grade production of Peter Pan -- not the standard version, but an adaptation -- in which I played Wendy, also first on stage I believe, opening with a scream, perhaps?] -- and it was electric.  Such a cool feeling.  Dear world: if you ever have a chance to do community theater, do it, because it's a helluvalotta fun.  And SHOCKING.  If you'd have told me three months ago that a performance like tonight's would have been possible, I would have laughed at you.  At any rate, it was a great time, and hopefully we can continue the energy for three more nights!

The after-party tonight involved a mad dash back to Cambridge to try to meet up with some people for karaoke.  Most had already bailed, but a few of us enjoyed ourselves, and D. and I managed to sneak in for one song, "Walking On Sunshine" -- _almost_ as upbeat as I was feeling.

Day 124: The Cambridge garden party

Today marked the beginning of one of the ends of summer -- that end being the production, and therefore finale, of Rumors.  And by that, I mean that today marked our first full dress rehearsal in Georgetown.  Well, nearly full; there were a few stray "threads", if you will, such as some evening gowns-turned-shorts-and-a-t-shirt and faulty walkie-talkies!  But overall it seemed worlds beyond the rehearsal on Thursday, which was a pleasant surprise.

This weekend's chaos left little room for error, but somehow in between the dress rehearsal and the garden fête this afternoon (more on that in a minute), there was some room for a quick oil change and finishing the cookies!  Almost vegan, not quite; still haven't quite figure out the whole baking-without-eggs thing.  Ok, so not so vegan at all, though the butter substitute worked like a charm. [Sidenote: apparently, upon a quick google search, bananas can sub for eggs.  Must experiment.]

At any rate, I arrived at M.'s house (where the garden party was being thrown for T's birthday, partially organized by me -- i.e., me being the constant source of harassment and verbal berating asking them to come to the damn thing) later than I had hoped but earlier than I had expected, allowing me to help prep a bit and to bake some of the cookies at her place.  It was a really nice afternoon for an outdoor Cambridge garden party. [M.'s place is exceedingly well-suited for throwing such gatherings -- beautiful outdoor garden mostly maintained by the two landlords, who live upstairs, and to some extent M. herself, I expect, with plenty of space for grilling and sitting or standing around, chatting.]  Eventually many of us devolved into devising some strange antics, some of which involved wearing bright sunglasses, hats made of plastic bags, and tiny spatulas (so cute!) for decoration; the antics may also have involved creating some videos of upside-down talking heads.  No further comment on that one.  But the moral of the story is, it was a relaxing end to a long week (fortnight? month? summer?), and presumably one happy birthday was had.

Day 118: The hidden outdoors

This blog acts as an existence proof that I really am quite fond of Cambridge.  But I will say this: it could use a bit more green space.  There are some small parks that dot many of the neighborhoods, but it has nothing to counter the likes of Brooklyn's Prospect Park or Boston's Public Garden.  But if you look for it, you can find a few venues which at least have some outdoor seating space (some favorites are of course Charlie's Kitchen in Harvard Square and Daedalus just south of it).

It was only recently that I discovered that The Field, a nearby pub I've always been sort of "meh" about, has a back deck as well.  Its interest to me suddenly went up about ten-fold upon learning this, and so it was there that I might T., and later E., for an after-work and pre-rehearsal drink this afternoon.  We were joined later by one of our more elusive friends who it was good to see, especially as the summer seems to be rapidly coming to a close.

Tonight's Rumors practice was optional, and ended up being mostly filled with goofing off doing characters in various silly voices, but it was sort of nice to have most of the cast together for a night off, not even trying to be all business.  Also nice to bike from The Field to Arlington with E. for the rehearsal - we made a good biking duo, silent-style.

A final surprise came with C. was returning to Boston from a weekend visit to NYC, and wanted to hang out after practice.  We ended up mostly hanging out on my "stoop" (i.e., my fire escape), another "hidden" way to be outdoors in the city.  A very textured day full of good friends.

Day 108: The yoga scene

Back in the day when I was a graduate student at MIT and therefore had access to all sorts of delightful perks, I would often go to the weekly group classes at the gym across the street from my building (in the Stata center, which you can see in the background image for this blog).  This mostly involved power yoga, pilates, and something called "PiYo" (an attempt at a pilates/yoga fusion).  Vinyasa yoga was incorporated in most of these (even in the pilates to some extent), but somehow most of the courses managed to avoid the true "hold-this-pose-until-your-muscles-are-burning" part of vinyasa that gives it its punch. [Also probably the case that you don't get the most advanced / difficult classes in the world at the Stata Center.]


When my friend Az asked if I wanted to go with him to a vinyasa class, I was excited -- in fact another friend had just thrown a free class pass my way a few days before.  So A. and I went to O2 yoga in Somerville this afternoon after work, and I must say the 75-minute class really took it out of me.  My body used to feel like a nice happy sack of goo after pilates at MIT, but after this class left me feeling more like a sad sack.  Well, not too sad -- muscles felt used, but in the right way (not the over-stretching way, which is why I used to stick to pilates over yoga), body felt completely mellow, and my brain really felt quieted.  I will have to re-visit.

Even with the very zen feeling, I managed to make the most of the rest of the evening and got to see a bunch of great folks at two of my favorite just-north-of-Central-Square establishments -- the Cellar and Cantab.  [One of my friends brought a girl who looked absolutely terrorized at the prospect of entering the Cantab as we approached the bouncer who was checking IDs and seeing the folks who were entering; we had to pay her cover and coax her in gently.  We all had a great time dancing, though!]

Day 107: Out-of-towners

Today was just another summer 2012 Cambridge Thursday, complete with work (new computer today!), some downtime at home, rehearsal in Georgetown for Rumors, and live-band karaoke after.

Several the usuals were away this week (out of town), so I had no high hopes for turn-out -- but though the crowd was small it was certainly punchy!

Since our own locals were being out-of-towners elsewhere, it only seemed reasonable to interact with some non-local out-of-towners in Cambridge.  P. had already begun to do this by the time E. and I arrived from rehearsal, with someone in town from North Carolina on business.  He was a great karaoke fiend and sang us his son's rendition of the song "I'm sexy and I know it" (hockey-themed: "I'm Gretsky and I know it"); though I was a bit worried when at the end of the night he told us, "I drive better when I've been drinking than when I'm sober.  My wife's always telling me, oh you gotta drive -- better start drinking!" -- just before driving to his hotel five miles away.

Before the end of the night, we decided we'd probably be best off ordering some pizza at Cinderella's, and were somehow approached by the table next to us, a group of brothers visiting, originally from Chicago, spanning nearly a couple of decades in age.  When I mentioned I was from nearby Indiana, the youngest expostulated that he went to school in Indiana, at the best school of the state -- Notre Dame.

I laughed and countered that no -- that school was located in Bloomington, to which he responded with an inflammatory remark by inserting a particularly flexible adverb in between "best" and "school" to describe IU.  After that I was not so interested in conversation, particularly after one of them made some about assuming one of our crew had "just met me tonight."  Perhaps an upshot of the evening was just that I felt lucky to live in a place where the out-of-towners don't make me wish I lived elsewhere?  The Cantabrigians I know are pretty great.

Day 106: The Last Hurrah

 
Some time ago, possibly the day of the most epic photo scavenger hunt known to man (or at least to this hu-man), I ran across a bar called The Last Hurrah.  Even then it spoke to me of the parting of the ways of the four tenants of Jack In The Box (as our place is called), and when I mentioned it to V., she was enthusiastic about it being a part of her last night out in Cambridge. Er, Boston.

So tonight, we went.  I arrived there on the on-time/early side, and E. was already there and well into drink 1.  I joined him at the bar and quickly we were joined by others, and ceded our spots to move to a larger table.  We migrated once more to move to a spot which happened to be directly in front of the television that was broadcasting the Olympics. Luckily the patrons who seemed interested in watching both a) were very nice and b) departed shortly after.

The portion of the night held at the Last Hurrah was (fortunately) fairly short-lived and involved a lot of talk about water conservation.  We relocated to one of my favorite Cantabrigian bars, River Gods, not too far into the night.  On the way we passed a lovely sign entreating us to shred any suspicious evidence [so weird; see above photograph], and once there we were greeted by many summertime lovelies in the form of butterflies hanging from the ceiling and such (River Gods always has bizarre creatures hanging around to celebrate whatever season it may be).

The point: Good-byes are terrible, but a part of life.  I don't know why you say good-bye, I say hello...

Day 105: Have you ever seen the rain? Or, The Importance of Living Above Toscanini's.

Someone told me long ago
There's a calm before the storm.
I know
It's been comin' for some time.


Today was Calliope's second chorus-only practice in a row (well, chorus and orchestra separate, that is) -- and it's always really nice to have Julia (our conductor) to ourselves. The orchestra is amazing, but when it's everyone together there is just so much going on.  Tonight we arranged in small semi-circles in order to hear one another better and get a good mix, and the altos in circle #1 (i.e., the circle I was in!) tore it up.  It was a great rehearsal -- the Bach that so intimidate us a few weeks back is now one of my favorite pieces to sing.


I had ridden my bike into Boston when the sky was only vaguely threatening to do much more than release a light mist, but by the time we were done rehearsing, a downpour had unleashed itself.  After a bike ride over the Harvard bridge, I went back home to dry myself off thinking I might go back out again.  But after a shower and a realization that I could grab ice cream without getting wet, I opted to stay in and play Rock Band with V., who is leaving for Japan on Thursday.

But back to the main point--I realized tonight that I can procure the most delicious saffron ice cream you ever did taste on a stormy Cambridge evening without getting wet.  How many people can say that?  I'd approximate about the 20 that live in my building, and that's it.  Honestly, even without the ice cream (which served as my dinner, mind you), I'd have been happy tonight.  I love summer rain.

Day 104: vegetables.

I don't have any stats on this, but I have always taken it for granted that Cambridge must be one of the most liberal pockets in the U.S. Other than the Bay Area / the west coast in general... Mass. must rank pretty darn high, right?

Along with recycling ease and access to health care, Massachusetts also does a bang-up job of providing access to non-meat-eater-friendly fare.  Just next door to the location of my new favorite veggie burger is the Middlesex, which apparently serves up yummy stuff at non-lunch hours (I never knew!).  Some sort of dumplings with some pretty delicious greens and a water chestnut or two (love 'em) accompanied our evening's treat tonight -- the last Monday of the month brought Nerd Nite again.  This time, the talks were on immunology (and how the immune system might be programmed to fight cancer) and silk (and, essentially, some thoughts on how it might save the world).

Whoever decided to put that vegetable thing on the menu had an idea that didn't suck.  We had two.

Day 101: The Cambridge House Party.

Our third attempt at throwing a party was ... a blast.  Slightly less messy than party #2, much wilder than party #1, and brimming over with people more than either of 'em.
In some sense, this whole shindig [read: blog] could be considered the beginning of the end.




But really today marked it.

It was our choose-your-own-theme theme party, a theme fitting for the party sending us all off on our respective life paths.  I suppose the majority of those paths were pre-determined; mine the least so.

So, I'll chronicle the day.

I worked a lot.  But left early for the sake of the party and gathered the necessary elements from the liquor store and the Trader Joe's near my place of work, so that I could get home and start to clean before my roommates got back.  Having a car does have its perks.

I transformed my bedroom so that it actually looked like a) a place where people could live and b) a place where people could chill during our party.  [The first theme, by the way, was mostly Titanic, complete with tunes from the second soundtrack and liner notes + a poster from the first two albums.]

It ended rightly, with the important folks doing a sing-a-long at my 14-year-old keyboard (shitty Casio from the 90s), my roommates playing my XBox game of RockBand 2, and everyone else dissipating at the appropriate pace.  Plus, some long-lost friends showed up, to my delight.

Cambridge is my favorite.

Day 99: 5 Horses + 45 more days

A week of rehearsals this has turned out to be - Sunday/Wednesday/Thursday (tomorrow) for Rumors, and Tuesday for Calliope.  Lines are to be learned for Rumors by the coming Sunday -- I counted and Chris (my character) has something like 200+ of them, so it's been quite the work week in that sense.  Ah, the real job is also going ok.


To reward a job well done, E. and D. and I headed out for one drink after practice tonight, and ended up at a place unknown to me until today -- Five Horses in Davis Square, which contains multitudes (of outdoor seating).  Strange that Harvard/Central/Inman/Porter just don't, really.  Shay's and Charlie's in Harvard -- oh, and Daedalus --, the Field and (I guess we'll count) the Tavern in Central, nothing that I know of elsewhere really. Davis somehow seems homier and cozier than the other areas.  Especially during the winter, when the lights are out... I remember how surreal the first Cambridge snow that I experienced was, in December of 2008, and I have a strong association of it with Davis Square.  The snow was blanketing it as I went with classmates to see something at the Somerville Theater (ok, that part wasn't so magical -- it was the Slutcracker).  I believe we did snow angels - but we also had driven to the show for whatever reason, so we had the joyous experience of navigating through thick flurries.  That was also the night before I drove home to Indiana for winter break, of course, which ended up taking 19 instead of 15 hours due to the 8-10 inches covering the ground.  Somehow worth it, I think.  See Blue Yoshi (i.e., my blue Toyota Corolla) above, covered in snow. Not in Davis Square, but in front of my old place on Columbia St. near Central.

How did this post end up being about snow?  Anyway, the 5 Horses pub was great because we got to sit outside, we invited our waitresses to sing karaoke with us (and now I'm remembering they suggested we go to the Rosebud, maybe on Mondays?, for karaoke), and I got a little more Davis under my belt.  Oh, and today was the last day in the double-digits. Ahoy last six weeks of Cantabrigia.

Day 98: Biking the city

It was raining today, so after I drove home from work, I took the T to choir rather than biking.  Thank goodness it rained -- the heat just disappeared.  But like most summer rains, this rain was temperamental, and had ceded by the time we were done piping out our Bach [side note: singing Bach's Mass in F Gloria at the appropriate tempo is not easy, but it's a helluvalotta fun].

So after I got home via T, I grabbed my bike to head to Inman Square to meet up for a) Punjabi Dhaba and b) a board game night.  Fewer pleasures greater than biking in a post-rain evening around here (love the smell -- if I'm not going to get to enjoy the crispness of Cambridge's autumn I'll damn well enjoy the cool after the summer rain).  And if it's warm, not so bad biking in the rain either.

Get ready for some sappy posts.  Roomies leaving at the end of the week is hitting me hard.

Day 95: The importance of having neighbors

Today felt like a very Saturday-y Saturday.

Began at a very Saturday-y time, around 9:30.  Involved some chores, a bit of work, some mild organization for packing, a trip to pick up some belongings which were still at my old apartment, etc.  And even grocery shopping!  And baking a cake -- a delicious Trunchbull (think: Matilda)-type cake, at that -- for my roomie's birthday.  Unfortunately there were a few hiccups in this process.  The last and most minor was the lack of candles (totally spaced it at the grocery store, where I should have attempted to purchase them), but a lighter can always sub in for that bit.

The first and most major was the fact that my cake-carrier still resides in Indiana as my space-cadet self left it at my aunt's in WV and my mom transported it home.  You would think that a cake carrier is one of those things you don't really _need_ -- until you do need it, which I often do, which is why I own one.  How else are you supposed to transport cakes?!

Well, I will tell you one way.  First, you live close enough to your friends that you can carry a cake down the street in an interesting apparatus.  Second, you concoct the idea for the interesting apparatus.  In this case, the first idea was to put the plate that the cake was on into a big metal salad bowl, hoping to stabilize it -- but then there was the problem of how to cover it.  Next there was the idea to simply put the metal bowl over a big plate -- but none of the plates were big enough, so there was no real way to to stabilize the bottom (er, top) of the bowl, as it didn't make contact with the plate.  I am no engineer, but I must say I was impressed with my idea of taking Z's mildly rusted cast-iron which has been sitting on our kitchen floor for approximately 3 months (or more?) and setting the plate inside -- the slightly curved lips of the unbreakable Corell plate fit perfectly in the medium-size cast-iron, and the handles of the skillet protruded out far enough so that the metal salad bowl perched atop them. It pretty much looked like I was either carrying a meal fit for a king or someone's head down the street in Central Square, and the only issue was that the uber-gooey DELICIOUS chocolate icing on this cake pretty much ensured that its two layers would slide all around and drip a bit of the goo on to my hands (though there are worse problems to have than chocolate icing on one's fingers).

At any rate, cake worked out and had a lovely b-day dinner for Pap at G-Dog's house.  The hub of Central Square comes through again, serving as the center for so many folks.

Day 89: The Importance of Resisting Harvard Square

You got to hand it to Cambridge when it comes to blending different "scenes" into one coherent atmosphere. Although I stand staunchly in favor of Central (I've sung its praises here ad infinitum), Harvard Square stands as another strong exemplar of a melting pot.  Amongst the Georgian architecture of the university's buildings roam all sorts of folks between the posh restaurants and shops, the bustle of streets artists and buskers, the crowded college-scene bars, and the tobacco shops.  Among other things.  To be fair, in Harvard Square the upscale outnumbers the tawdry (much more so than in Central -- and hence why Central will always come out on top in my book) -- but these juxtapositions make the roaming and people-watching some of the best in the city.


However, if you're like me, you need to remember that you belong with the tawdry, and not so much with the upscale -- important to remember as I shopped briefly this afternoon looking for one of those rare moments of finding an inexpensive-yet-blow-your-mind-great get-up for this weekend's wedding.  I had a close call a couple of times but managed to resist, so it was a pleasant (if brief) bit of time roaming around the square in the lovely evening weather.

This evening we held practice for Rumors at my place, then did the usual Thursday night sing-a-long at Asgard.  A decent crew amassed and it was fun, but I must admit I did a really hack job of Tracy Chapman.  Going on the to-do list soon (the one that is full of things I wish I had time to do) is doing some re-con on San Diego karaoke spots (clearly the thing that should be at the top of my priority list).

Day 88: Hatch Shell

 Going to see the Boston Landmark Orchestra play Aaron Copland at the hatch shell near the Charles (Boston side) was just great.  Apart from one cranky audience member who freaking stole my hot pretzel.  (Seriously: "Oh, ma'am, I've been waiting about 10 minutes.  I think that's--" "Oh, what a pity. [walks away]")

Gorgeous evening! Hatch shell! Who cares I had to wait a few more minutes for the next pretzel! Plus Appalachian Spring and other Copland for free.  Unfortunately, I had to leave early - a friend from choir was part of the All-Boston chorus singing some of the folk songs, but it was in the second half so I missed it. According to M., who invited me, the folk songs were a bit strange because they sounded so "formal" -- not at all like sing-song-y folk stuff.  There are free concerts every Wednesday for the rest of the summer at the hatch shell -- everyone should go!

OK.  That was the most salient point I had to make for today. Other great things about today:

1. Got to have dinner with K&L like old times at Oleana!  (YUMMY food, AMAZING baked Alaska, and tasty muscat and other wine...)
2. Got to walk across Longfellow from the Hatch Shell to Oleana. Love doing this at a moderate pace when it's nice out. Beautiful.
3. Z IS BACK! From London.
4. After chatting with Z I ended up grabbing a quick drink with a friend I hadn't seen in a while at Brick and Mortar. Good good evening.

Day 87: The Cambrige Street Code

When you live in a city for a long time, certain aspects of the city become like second nature.  Little things that you barely notice on a day-to-day basis, but rules which, when "violated" (when you're traveling, in strange situations, etc.) strike you as very strange. For instance, the other day I was out late-ish at night, and was crossing a street with someone from out of town who tried to stop me as I began to cross at a red light. "Wait!" he exclaimed. "There's a cop right over there!"  I had to explain to him that in _this_ town, pedestrians are treated like gods, bicyclists are given quite the run of the street (though not as much as pedestrians), and cops can barely even get to motorized vehicles through the morass of pedestrians, cyclists, and god-knows-what-else -- maybe even roombas. At the very least, pedestrians jay-walking is not frowned upon in the slightest, and in fact, once a pedestrian is in the street, it is the motor vehicle-ist's responsibility to stay-out-the-way-b****, stay-out-the-way.

What I'd like the reader to come away with here is two-fold: (1) Cambridge and Boston have their own street codes (apparently not obvious to visitors) and (2) it is such that if you have to travel very far not on foot, you should stay-out-the-way.  I.e., Take The Damn MBTA (the "T").

Now, the T is not perfect either. For one thing it stops running about 90 minutes before bars close (terrible planning on the part of the city for the hoi polloi, but great planning if you want to increase the existence of drunk or cab drivers).  For another, there is only one route into Cambridge (well, two if you count the brief foray across the river by the green line to Lechmere, but for Pete's sake).  However, Cambridge-to-Boston's red line is pretty speedy, and it's pretty clean, stations don't smell bad, etc.  Pros outweigh cons.

I have taken to T-ing to choir practice in Back Bay on Tuesdays -- I drive from work to park at home (work is difficult, though not impossible, to get to by public transit) and then grab the red line by my house.  Soon I hope to turn this into biking, but bike is still out of commission due to broken lock (and probably air-less tires).  At any rate, once in a while you meet someone interesting on the T.  A friend once got a long-term girlfriend this way.  I've not quite had that success rate, but I did have a nice chat with a woman with a 3-ish-year-old in a stroller (she was rather precocious -- maybe she was a tiny 4-year-old).

Apart from extolling the T, I'll take this opportunity to extol Dvorak, who wrote the one piece (Stabat Mater Dolorosa) we rehearsed today.  Granted, it's an over-20-min-long piece, so it was warranted.  I realized the other day that our conductor must have a bit of a music-crush on big D because she has included something from his vast repertoire in each of our three concerts.  I don't mind :).  Following up singing about the virgin Mary watching her son dying from torture on a cross (luckily it's in Latin so typically we can ignore this), we celebrated with some beers at the 'Snake down the road.