ROUTES
the hamilton college travel & exploration magazine
issue i WINTER 2016
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“I read; I travel; I become.” - Derek Walcott
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AN INTRODUCTION EDITORS-IN-CHIEF
Alexis Stroemer ‘18
Victoria Bullivant ‘18
MANAGING EDITOR
Annie Berman’ 18
PHOTO TEAM
Jack Anderson ‘18 Bridget Braley ‘18 Jack Hay ‘19
LAYOUT TEAM
Corinne Hom ‘16 Abby Uehling ‘18
COPY-EDITORS
Julie Flanagan ‘17 Jacqui Young ‘17 Lindsay Buff ‘17
ILLUSTRATIONS BY
Jana Prudhomme ‘19
Cover photo by photo contest finalist Simon Jia ‘16. 6
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Routes Magazine is a publication of the Hamilton College Media Board.
LETTER FROM THE EDITORS ROUTES STARTED AS A passing thought at a lunch table. Yet a near year later, the eve of sending our project to the printer is hardly different from its inception. Victoria and I are sat at a table, though perhaps a little more weary than last spring, teeming still with new ideas and imaginations of wild spreads. Through developing Routes from an idea to the cusp of its physical realization, our mission to create an engaging platform for Hamilton students to share their experiences and passions has remained entirely constant. From our end of things, we believe that we have realized such a goal and can only hope that you feel the same. On the other hand, if after reading stories from Brno to Varanasi, you are inspired to simply go do cool things wherever you are, then we have truly succeeded. So go forth and see the world, and maybe tell us about it when you have the chance. All the best, Victoria & Alexis, Editors-in-Chief
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CONTENTS
PATHS
CREATE
DISCOVER
AVENTURES
EXPLORE
FIND YOUR ROUTES
NEW
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AIRPORT PHOTO ESSAY: ALEXIS STROEMER ‘18......................................................................... 10 10 REASONS YOU SHOULD TRAVEL ALONE: KATE PUGLIA ‘17............................................... 14 IS THIS A TEMPLE OF A CLUB? KATE BROUNS ‘17....................................................................... 16 GAY’S THE WORD: MAUREEN MCDERMOTT ‘18.......................................................................... 18 THE UNDISCOVERED STUDENT CITY: EMMA MORGAN ‘18.................................................... 22 NEW ENGLAND FOREST RALLY: JACK HAY ‘19............................................................................. 24 FOUR SEAS ICECREAM: ALEX MEHM ‘18........................................................................................ 26 DEAR DUBLIN: MARIAH WALZER ‘17............................................................................................... 28 PHOTO CONTEST FINALISTS............................................................................................................ 30
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10 REASONS WHY YOU SHOULD TRAVEL ALONE SHOULD TRAVEL ALONE 10 REASONS WHY YOU
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KATE PUGLIA ‘17 I’M CURRENTLY ABROAD IN COPENHAGEN, DENMARK ON a very large and overwhelmingly American program. I felt I needed a break from this experience, so I decided to go to London and Barcelona, two cities I knew very little about, for a week. I did this despite friends’ judgments, my own doubt, and my parent’ concern for safety. When I got there, however, I realized just how important the experience was. Here’s what I learned:
1. 2. 3. 4.
5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.
It’s terrifying (in the best way possible) You can do whatever you want (and nothing you don’t want) You learn to be assertive (making sure you get what you need, even if you cannot speak Catalan) You talk to people that you might otherwise ignore (like the cab driver in Barcelona who laughs at you for tripping while exiting the cab, or the cashier in London Stansted Airport to whom you feel the need to give relationship advice to whilst buying a phone charger) You experience failure (especially when you miss your flight in London, call your dad crying, but then figure out how to argue with Ryanair customer service to get you on the next flight) You are forced to put yourself out there (in your hostel, meeting people from countries you’ve never heard of and trying to understand broken English during a Tapas crawl) You become a better decision maker (knowing when NOT to go down that empty street alone on a Saturday night) You learn to get lost (but doing so gives you the greatest insight into what a city is truly like) You realize (that you are actually great company, despite what anyone thinks) You have your own experience (which no one can take, share, compare, or complicate) WINTER 2016
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IS THIS A TEMPLE OR A CLUB? KATE BROUNS ‘17 DESCRIBES HER EXPERIENCE IN VERNALA, INDIA.
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VARANASI IS ALIVE. IT IS VIBRANT, COLORFUL, EXCITING, AND I am in love with it. Once again, I hear Cupid whispering into my ear as I walk along the ghats, This is the greatest love you will ever know. In our first three days here, this city has already shown me more magical — and jarring — sights than much of my India experience combined. The mantra, “You never know what to expect,” is incredibly applicable here. For instance, I expected I would be speaking Hindi in India (that is … once I could speak full sentences). On our first evening, some of us headed to the small shop next-door for some eager shopping. I know, we started shopping on night one. Lord help us all. While I was sifting through a wall of postcards, an Indian man approached me with, “Hola Señorita!” I thought, Ah. He must think I speak Spanish. So I responded, “Oh, I’m sorry, I actually speak English.” He responded, unexpectedly, in Spanish again. Interesting trend. On another tangent, I took Spanish for 13 years before college and never used it outside the classroom once. But somehow, here in this small Indian shop, I launched into a fifteen minute conversation with a man who is half Indian, half Hispanic and who apparently loves to dance more than anything in the world. I thought I came to this country to speak Hindi? You never know what to expect. I thought I was accustomed to street animals thus far in India, but the street animals I’ve seen so far in Varanasi go unparalleled. Yesterday, I walked by a goat sitting on a bench, saw a man with a monkey on a leash, and watched a small boy ride a water buffalo out of the river Ganga. My friend, Meg, and I went on a morning walk along the ghats (the riverfront steps of the Ganga) the other day and were immediately drawn to a raised platform near the water. Nestled in a mound of dirt was a litter of street puppies playing with each other. It was too good to be true. We bolted over, pushed our fear of rabies aside, and knelt beside them, only to be smothered in puppy kisses. It was glorious.
“NESTLED IN A MOUND OF DIRT WAS A LITTER OF STREET PUPPIES PLAYING WITH EACH OTHER.”
But … you never know what to expect. As we crouched, mesmerized by their cuteness, a man approached us and asked us if we’d like to learn more about open-air cremations. This question seemed out-of-place. Excuse me, sir, but why do you associate puppies with cremations? As Meg and I stood up to respond, we realized we had been crouched on the edge of a burning ghat. A few of the 84 ghats along the river Ganga are colloquially known as ‘burning ghats,’ as they are typically used for cremations. In the Hindu tradition, funeral ceremonies take place at these ghats as family members burn the body of the deceased and afterwards put the ashes in the river. So Meg and I set our sweet puppies aside to spend part of our morning on a bench with an undertaker, watching a corpse being burned below us. Out of all the things I imagined I would do in my life, this was at least 4,523rd on the list. I consider myself a squeamish person, so yes, this image will no doubt be seared in my mind forever. But at the same time, when accompanied by an explanation from this Hindu undertaker, the ceremony gained much more meaning and beauty. By the time we left, the process felt more familiar than unfamiliar; though the handling of the body was different than I was used to, the desire to reunite these ashes with the life cycle seemed universal. On our walk back, we walked by an adorned and elegant building, displaying “Please remove your shoes,” that was blasting ear-shattering dance music. Meg turned to me and asked, “Is this a temple or a club?” Case in point: you never know what to expect. WINTER 2016
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GAY’S THE WORD Maureen McDermott ‘18
“WITH THE CIVIL PROGRESS THE LGBTQ COMMUNITY HAS MADE COMES THE PARADOX OF THE BOOKSHOP’S DECLINE—A WIDESPREAD PROLIFERATION OF LGBT MATERIAL HAS SWEPT THE UNITED KINGDOM, AND GAY’S THE WORD STRUGGLES TO PAY THE RENT.” 18
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M
y hands sometimes tremble a bit when I enter bookshops, but it’s usually a tremble of excitement, not fear. This time was a bit different—probably because just walking in is a statement. A declaration. Etched largely in bold, white letters across the top of the shop’s light blue decal is its name—GAY’S THE WORD. This is a shop where walking in is coming out, and even to a liberal eighteen-year-old who’s been out for almost three years, that’s an intimidating kind of publicity. Gay’s the Word has dutifully served London for 35 years as the city’s first (and only remaining) queer bookshop. But with the civil progress the LGBTQ community has made comes the paradox of the bookshop’s decline—a widespread proliferation of LGBT material has swept the United Kingdom, the internet has become the main unifier of the LGBTQ community, sexual identity is being viewed as less of a cultural binary. And Gay’s the Word struggles to pay the rent. A glass window spans the entire shop front of Gay’s the Word and, as boldly as it’s name predicts, displays the newest LGBTQ books to anyone who passes by. Stickers and flyers plaster the perimeter of the window, while the center remains an expansive clear pane through which the entirety of the shop is visible. As this storefront display gazes openly at the street before it, curious outside eyes sometimes peer in. At Gay’s the Word, there is no hiding— the quiet visibility of the shop forces a confrontation with identity. And in a city like London where the sheer masses of urban life make submitting to anonymity easy (in fact, even the norm), this confrontation was, at least for me, an unexpectedly welcome change. Inside the one room shop, unashamed shelves line the walls and brim with the books of the LGBTQ community. In other bookstores, these books are reduced to singular, unseen shelves labeled “Gay and Lesbian” in tiny print. And even though the sheer fact that these singular LGBTQ shelves exist in mainstream bookstores is incredibly culturally significant because for so long they did not, no place in London offers as comprehensive a collection of LGBTQ material as Gay’s the Word. The first half of the 20th century knew Bloomsbury as the home of an influential group of intellectuals, philosophers, and artists known as the Bloomsbury Set. Among its DOROTHY PARKER members were thinkers such as Virginia Woolf, E.M. Forster, John Maynard Keynes, and Dora Carrington. The members of this Bohemian DESCRIBES THE group were “united by an abiding belief in the importance of the arts” BLOOMSBURY SET AS and characterized by their influence on attitudes towards feminism and CIRCLE OF FRIENDS WHO sexuality (Ousby, 95). Dorothy Parker, a famed American poet and “LIVED IN SQUARES, BUT writer, describes the Bloomsbury Set as circle of friends who “lived in squares, but loved in triangles”—referencing the alleged inter-group and LOVED IN TRIANGLES” frequently same-sex affairs that occurred within this circle (McSmith). With the influences of the Bloomsbury Set, and with its proximity to the British Library and Museum, Bloomsbury has historically functioned as an academic, intellectual, and cultural hub of London. But while the historic context of Bloomsbury is very much reflected in the spirit of Gay’s the Word, this link is largely coincidental as Gay’s the Word arrived in Bloomsbury in 1979 almost by accident. Rents in SoHo were too high, and a row of tiny, brick buildings on Marchmont Street in Bloomsbury were scheduled for demolition. When the demolition company went under and this row of buildings was left standing with low rent, Gay’s the Word moved in. If you ask anyone who frequents Gay’s the Word, they’d tell you that this bookshop is much more than just a bookshop. Its conception in 1979 was undoubtedly political in everything from the shops name to the services it provided. The people who set up the shop were “very ballsy individuals” (Gay’s). It was a “very deliberate strategy on their part to chose the name Gay’s the Word. This was not about hiding away” (Gay’s). The statement it made for the LGBTQ community was one of “we’re here in hearts and intellect, and we’re not going to be oppressed by previously held social views” (Lenart). The shop’s significance, however, extends far beyond the political. Arguably more important is the sense of safety and community that this shop fostered. A notice board hangs in the back of the shop with flyers tacked up to remind people of community events. The shop lends itself after hours as the meeting place for many London based LGBTQ groups—most notable is the Lesbian Discussion group that has been meeting every Wednesday for 25 years, but this also includes groups such as TransLondon, Gay Black Group, and Icebreakers. If Cyril Connolly, in his essay One of My Londons, writes about a London he finds hard to inhabit for more than a few days due to streets “freighted with former lives” (O’Hagan), then I find London enchantingly alluring for WINTER 2016
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almost the exact same reason—the lives that have lived there and lives that still do. Maybe I’m lacking a personal connection to the inhabitants of this city that Connolly possessed. I don’t know the Londoners who frequent Gay’s the Word, or those who have been there just once, or even those who have walked nervously by but been unable to walk inside. But when Uli Lenart, assistant manager of the shop, told me stories about the teenage boy who came in after being kicked out of his home for being gay, or the mother who called the shop after her daughter came out to inquire about a book and ended up on the phone with Uli for 20 minutes, I feel like I do. Patrons of Gay’s the Word leave not just with the LGBTQ books and materials they desire, but with discussions and support from the intelligent and invested staff. As stated by Jim MacSweeny, manager of Gay’s the Word: “I love the enormous variety of people who use the “GAY’S THE WORD’S LGBTQ bookshop—people from all around the world, of different ages SUPPORTERS IN 1984 BANNED and different life experiences drawn together by our shared sexuality. I’m interested in people and hearing their stories is TOGETHER WITH A WELSH always fascinating. In my time I’ve seen the end of the Net Book MINING UNION TO PROTEST Agreement, the introduction of gay sections in general bookshops, the growth of the internet, online shopping and the emergence of MARGARET THATCHER’S e-books. And somehow we survive - doing what we do best.” DEMONIZATION OF THE There was no singular, iconic event that marked the beginning WORKING CLASS.” of the UK’s LGBTQ rights movement as there was in the United States with the Stonewall riots of 1969—the brick-wielding drag queens and shit-throwing radicals of New York City directly contrasting the subtler and more proper rise in visibility of the UK’s gays and lesbians in a way that quite possibly characterizes these two nations (Zinn). The UK saw the decriminalization of homosexuality (with caveats) in 1967, but the implementation of Clause 28 in 1988 that made it illegal for local authorities to promote homosexuality. Clause 28, contrary to the intentions of the Thatcher government, sparked a rise in LGBTQ activism as people spoke out against Thatcher’s anti-gay attitudes. Clause 28 wasn’t repealed until 2003, but throughout its time as law, Gay’s the Word remained a visible and vocal queer presence in London. As progress moves on and attitudes evolve, Gay’s the Word is left with the paradoxical position of watching the change and acceptance it’s fought for fuel its own decline. The specificity of Gay’s the Word’s material is facing a lack of cultural relevance as LGBTQ material is now available in increasing formats and domains. LGBTQ culture is transforming, and maybe even declining with the new generational emphasis on fluidity and not confining oneself to identity labels. Sexuality is becoming a casual and conceptual notion, which, in so many ways, is a revolutionary idea as it counters the binary ideas of sexuality as either gay or straight. But what does this mean for culture and community? Gay’s the Word is no longer being viewed as culturally necessary. Some even criticize it, and other specifically LGBTQ institutions, as promoting “homonormativity”. This idea is easy to agree with broadly— minority communities shouldn’t isolate themselves from others and shouldn’t define themselves strictly by their minority status. But, still important is a sense of focused minority identity even if it’s fostering a binary—“we need a healthy mix of what’s pragmatic and what’s fluid”(Lenart). I can only travel through London not concerned of how others perceive my sexuality because of those who came before me—those who expressed their identities even when it endangered them, and those who remained vocal through times of strife. For the modern LGBTQ community, things have changed and “we can walk around with a certain sense of libertationism, but we need to remember who came before because we owe it all to them” (Lenart). Enveloping Marchmont Streets is a leftover aura of the secret history of Gay’s the Word. This tiny shop witnessed generations of evolving British thought on sexuality and gender identity, and witnessed first hand some of the biggest cultural movements of London—both past and present. From Gay’s the Word’s LGBTQ supporters in 1984 banning together with a Welsh mining union to protest Margaret Thatcher’s demonization of the working class and the LGBT community, to a government raid that forcibly removed thousands of pounds worth of books from the shop, to a near foreclosure in 2007 that was saved only by donations from members of the LGBTQ community everywhere including Sir Ian McKellen and Sarah Waters, Gay’s the Word has been at the center of a movement now crucial to London’s identity as a city of acceptance, multiculturalism and evolution. And never once has Gay’s the Word hidden. 20
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WORKS CITED: Gay’s the Word. Dir. Jim MacSweeny and Uli Lenart. N.p., 14 July 2008. Web. 17 Dec. 2014. Lenart, Uli. Telephone interview. 16 Dec. 2014. McSmith, Andy. “Bloomsbury Set: Love Triangles, Suicide and Communism.” The Independent. N.p., 19 Mar. 2009. Web. 17 Dec. 2014. O’Hagan, Andrew. “7/7.” The Atlantic Ocean: Reports from Britain and America. Boston: Mainer /Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2013. N. pag. Print. Ousby, Ian. The Cambridge Guide to Literature in English. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1993. Print.
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THE UNDISCOVERED STUDENT CITY EMMA MORGAN ‘18
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IF YOU WANT TO GO ABROAD TO EUROPE, BUT AREN’T looking to study in any of the usual capitals (London, Paris, Madrid, Berlin etc.) it can be hard to find alternate student friendly cities. Look no further, because I have found the perfect study abroad destination! In the voice of Stefan from Saturday Night Live The Czech Republic’s hottest student city: Brno. This place has everything: almost 89,000 university students, beautiful sights, and $3 denni menus. What is a denni menu you ask? It’s a wonderful, multicourse fixed lunch menu that costs less than a large coffee at Dunkin. Back to scholarly college student voice With all sincerity, Brno is the perfect place to spend a semester. While the beautiful and inviting city is the second lagrgest in the Czech Republic, its youthful population makes it feel quite cozy. Brno The city is home to many international students, but is not overrun by Americans so it’s the perfect spot to have an authentic Czech experience. Do you still need more convincing before you book your plane ticket? I can respect that. Let’s look at Brno through three categories, cost, location, and accessibility. Alright, as much as it would be nice to pretend that anyone can go anywhere to study abroad, the reality is that cost can be a deciding factor for many students deciding where to spend a semester or year. Brno is a great destination for the budget friendly traveler. Students who live frugally can expect to need only $300 per month including rent, groceries, and transportation, though students who want to splurge a little more usually spend around $700. These sums don’t reflect tuition fees, but degrees taught at public universities in Czech are free, although degrees taught in English usually cost around $1,000. Even including tuition, the cost of living in Brno is far less than one would spend at a more popular study abroad destination. The British government even recommends a monthly budget, before factoring in tuituon, of at least £1,265 ($1,921.72 USD) to students studying abroad in London. All that money you save by going to a cheaper city to study abroad can spent on experiences, which brings me to my next point: location, location, location! Brno is just two hours away from Prague, two hours away from Vienna, and three hours away from Budapest. To get there, you can use Student Agency the national student transit service in the Czech Republic where university students, regardless of nationality, can purchase discounted bus and train tickets. If you’d rather stay close to your new home, Brno and the Moravian region of the country won’t disappoint; in and around the city you’ll find castles, ancient cave systems, theaters, museums, bucolic villages, and so much more. Now onto the most basic question: is this city accessible someone who doesn’t speak the local language? The answer to that is a resounding yes! While there are plenty of opportunities in Brno to study in Czech, universities in the area offer several programs each with courses taught in English. Locals often speak English or German fairly well and are very friendly to foreigners who try their hand at Czech. So there you have it. Brno, the best unknown student city in Europe. It’s cheap, it’s easy to travel to and from, and its accessible to non-Czech speakers. Get booking, Hamilton students! Brno awaits!
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NEW ENGLAND FOREST RALLY JACK HAY ‘19 IT WAS A TYPICAL MAINE SUMMER DAY WHEN MY BROTHER, MY FATHER, MY friend, and I arrived at the annual New England Forest Rally in the North Woods of Maine for my first ever in-person rally. Until then, I had been a passive fan, watching videos online. We arrived at the Parc ExposĂŠ, where the racecars were parked for fans to see up close. Their impressively loud engines and colorful paint jobs heightened my anticipation. After peaking into the stripped down interiors, we boarded a bus to spectator stage. The first thing we saw was a Ford SUV flashing a light to clear the stage. Then we heard something. It started as a far-off buzz and became a high-pitched whine. Conversation stopped. As the sound grew louder, I could barely hold my camera steady. Then the first car came roaring off the crest above us and flew forty yards before slamming back onto the gravel with a loud bang and then roaring off down the road. I peered through the dust at the others, and we burst out laughing excitedly. A minute later, a blue Subaru soared over the jump and careened off out 24
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“THE FIRST CAR CAME ROARING OFF THE CREST ABOVE US AND FLEW FORTY YARDS BEFORE SLAMMING BACK ONTO THE GRAVEL WITH A LOUD BANG�
of sight. Next came a Fiesta RS, which landed at a crazy angle. The final car launched off the jump so gracefully that it flew sixty yards before landing on all four wheels simultaneously. Watching this three-day event was an incredible experience, with each day offering a new angle at which to view the race. I spent a lot of time firing off bursts of shots with my camera, trying to capture these elusive cars in motion. Rally racing is a fickle sport. At NEFR, one driver lost time the first day but still managed to secure third place. Another, who came in first on day one, had a mechanical failure on day two and was unable to finish. Despite how variable rally racing is, competitors known for their consistency and smooth driving are entertaining to follow. As one of the fastest and most exciting on the Rally America circuit, NEFR is legendary. I left the event with more than a few photographs and a new appreciation for the challenge of driving at high speeds on gravel and the dedication that successful rally racing demands.
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Four Seas Ice Cream Alex Mehm ‘18
Cape Cod can be eerily quiet at night. Even in the summer, when the populations of its tiny towns swell with the arrival of hundreds of loud, rowdy families, people seem to disappear when the day is over. Driving along the windy roads of Centerville and Hyannis, the sound of movement—cars, people, you name it—ebbs away, leaving only the quiet roar of waves lapping against the sandy white beaches that make Cape Cod so popular. But if you continue driving, you might find one of the tiny pockets of life that disrupts the otherwise infinite placidity. Four Seas Ice Cream is one of those places. The bright fluorescent sign that hangs from the building’s side greets me and the other 14 kids that piled into the grey-green minivan that drove us. The doors open and we flood out, barefoot, to get a spot in the slowly growing line out of the front door of the building. Four Seas Ice Cream has a beautiful 1950’s diner feel on the inside, with a white countertop and a checkered floor which is reminiscent of an older time. They even have swiveling diner stools, almost intentionally built for the small children who love to sit on them, eating ice creams that are way too big for their faces, without the fear of spilling ice cream on the seats of their parents’ car for the tenth time. On the wall hang the different flavors, which range from mint chocolate chip, to maple walnut, to peach. Now, take that 26
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image of what you think the inside of the building looks like, and shrink its length by a fourth. Every time I finally worm my way inside the door, I’m somehow always surprised by the aggressively small space. Though it may sound harsh criticism, the sea of people packed into a space far too small to fit everyone comfortably, all subtly clambering and pushing their way to the countertop makes Four Seas so charming and memorable. When my group finally reaches the front we have talk and gesture loudly to articulate that yes, this group of 15 kids are all together, over the sounds of the other people trying to do the same. Once you get the ice cream though, it’s all worth it. Four Seas has been around for 80 years, and in that time they have somehow mastered the proper way to sell ice cream. They take the ice cream out of the freezer ahead of time so it’s smooth and creamy; you don’t have to really dig into it to get a spoonful. The frappes are made the real, New England way, with ice cream and milk to give the drink a chunky richness that most ‘milkshakes’ completely fail at. The one and only problem with Four Seas is that it’s only open during the summer, which explains why it is coveted by Cape-goers. So, if you are ever wondering what to do on a warm July or August night, I would suggest searching the windy roads of Centerville to find Four Seas Ice Cream. It never really feels like summer without it.
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DEAR DUBLIN
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Mariah Walzer ‘17
Dear Dublin, Your sheep-speckled sky threatens to ring out soaked wool on people careening through cobbled streets, foot traffic thicker than the accent of the woman who served me lamb stew and Guinness at the corner restaurant. Snippets of blather criss-cross each other like Ha’Penny Bridges “Dia Duit” “up the Dubs” “it’s grand” The words find a home in my ears, but get lost in my brain like Rachel and I trying to find the Leprechaun Museum. We ordered tea at an O’Connell Street shop instead. Dear Dublin, I wish I knew my way around your streets. Maybe then, I’d find my place in your history. The guidebook tells me River Liffey cuts the path of civil war: golden torcs torn from the Hill of Tara and whispered suggestions of ghosts congregating in Stonebreaker’s Yard, cursing Kilmainham Gaol. Yet the loudest quiet falls on St. Stephen’s Green when bells of Christ Church Cathedral chime “tree,” music stumbling over itself like mouths trying to recall Gaelic consonants lost to time and English vowels. My tongue only stumbles over smooth slopes of a 99 cone and amber air bubbles of Crunchies consumed under flags rooting for Boys in Blue and skies rarely more than monochrome beauty. WINTER 2016
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INSTAGRAM PHOTO CONTEST WINNER “This photo was taken in a train in Flam, Norway on a trip to visit the fjords. We traveled about 4 hours by bus and train from the nearest city, Bergen, in order to reach the fjords, and this is one of the amazing sights we saw along the way. Although being in the fjords was incredible and surreal, the view from the train was just as captivating.� WINTER 2016
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PHOTO CONTEST FINALISTS
RYAN ONG ‘16
“THIS PHOTO WAS TAKEN WHEN I WAS STUDYING ABROAD IN LONDON LAST SPRING. I TRAVELED WITH A FRIEND TO PARIS FOR THE WEEKEND AND STAYED IN AN AIRBNB RIGHT NEXT TO THE EIFFEL TOWER. WE HONESTLY DIDN’T EXPECT TO GET SUCH AN AMAZING VIEW!”
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RACHAEL FEUERSTEIN ‘16 “This was taken from the Horn-
blower Niagara Cruise on the Canadian Side of Niagara Falls during Fall Break 2015. Pictured is another Hornblower Niagara Cruise and the American side of the Falls. If you’re planning on going on the Hornblower, bring an extra pair of clothes and a waterproof phone case - you get soaked!
ANNA O’KEEFE ‘18 “Driving on winding country roads while admiring the fall beauty of the Champlain Valley, contrasted with the snowy high peaks of the Adirondacks offers me an irreplaceable feeling of peace and contentment.”
OLIVIA MELODIA ‘18
“This photo was taken at Torres del Paine National Park in Chilean Patagonia. In the foreground is Pehoe Lake, which is an iridescent turquoise due to the glacial flour that cascades into its waters. I spent my week in Patagonia exploring the incredibly biodiverse landscape, hiking around the glaciers, and sipping mate with gauchos.” WINTER 2016
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PHOTO CONTEST FINALISTS ASHNA LALWANI ‘19
“I took this photo at the Falkland Islands a couple of years ago on my way to Antarctica. The day was blistering, with low temperatures that might even rival Hamilton’s, but the penguins were a comfortable mess. They were up early, eager to eat and enjoy the sun. I snapped this photo shortly before they starting diving into the water to hunt.
ZANDER WEAR ‘18
“Of the 950 miles, 19 days, and endless hours spent pedaling from Seattle to San Francisco this summer, this sunset near Tillamook, Oregon along the Pacific Ocean holds a special place in my memories. Moments like these give bike touring a beauty that other forms of travel can’t offer - reward.”
MAUREEN MCDERMOTT ‘18 “This photo was taken in Rothenburg, Germany, when I was visiting family friends. Rothenberg is a very historical German village known for its Christmas markets.”
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PHOTO BY ALEXIS STROEMER ‘18 ZURICH, SWITZERLAND WINTER 2016
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