Coming full circle

As Ferdinand Magellan did in the early 1520s, he came full circle around the world...well sort of...and I will too. Technically speaking, Magellan did not himself actually circumnavigate the world. Unfortunately he never saw it fully completed; he was killed in the Philippines in 1521. But, his spirit with them, the expedition was finally completed, making Magellan the first man to organize the first circumnavigation of the globe.

While that may seem slightly morbid...like Magellan's expedition making a circle around the globe, I too have made one (alive unlike Magellan). I began this journey in Washington, PA on a fateful day in the spring of 2013 when I found out that my project was approved and funded. Then on June 1st I departed and my trip began. For two months I lived in New England, researching, learning, and growing both academically and individually.

This entry is more than anything, a reflection of my journey. A condition of the award was that a reflection had to be completed upon the scholar's return...something I have completed and see no need in repeating myself or rewriting it since like every other college student out there I am unbelievably busy and short of time. But, I think there may be a few things, one very important thing, that I failed to mention in my reflection that I did mention at the Magellan Scholar dinner, which occurred a few days after I wrote the reflection that is below.

If one looks back to the second post I blogged on here, "What makes them special?" they may learn that prior to my trip and researching, I believed that Phillis Wheatley and Samson Occom assimilated into the Euro-American society...I seemed very sure of it. As I reflect on that post, things most certainly have changed. As you will be able to learn from my reflection I now believe that was not the case. Instead I think that, while the claim that they "partly" assimilated could be made, I think for the most part both Wheatley and Occom strongly identified with their birth cultural identities.

Such a change of thought begs the question...was I wrong? The answer to that is quite simply- no, not at all. I do not think I was wrong, instead the beauty of research and academia has presented itself. I made a hypothesis or assumption about these two writers, but upon further research and review my beliefs and view changed. That's the beauty of the whole entire project, it allowed me to seek out the answers to my own questions and expand on them.

Here is the reflection I submitted about my Magellan Project:

In preparation for writing this reflection I reread portions of my application. In doing so I asked myself, did you succeed in your venture? Did you go beyond what you had hoped? How did this experience, perhaps calling it an “exploration” is more appropriate, affect your overall view of yourself and life? While all these questions formed in my head I came to the realization that my Magellan project far surpassed my wildest dreams, which I “attempted” to convey in my application. My growth and experiences as a student, researcher, and even just an individual were something that I could not have even fathomed.
            Arriving in Boston, Massachusetts was by far one of my most daunting and stressful events in my life. There I was, bag in hand, walking into a whole new world. I was alone and independent. Every decision, every step was of my own and no one was going to be there to hold my shaking hand. The nerves, however, eventually subsided and excitement rushed through my mind.
            While in Boston walking the streets and camping out in the libraries and Starbucks, I tried to imagine what Phillis Wheatley, one of two authors I was researching, felt when she first came to Boston. Clearly we are different people, but the fear and unknowing juxtaposed to the extreme excitement and wonder was something we both had in common. I lived in the Boston Public Library (BPL) and shuffled through books and articles looking for traces of a cultural identity. My work was promising. Wheatley showed me that even though she faced daunting hardships, as a slave, African, and woman, she used those pressures forced on her by Euro-Americans in the sense of religion, language, and education to battle back and call out for the better treatment of her African people. Her works are filled with examples of her African cultural identity and a will to speak out on behalf of her others.
            Working in the BPL and also the Massachusetts Historical Society (MHS) taught me a lot about how to research at large institutes. Many of the books I used were not accessible via open shelves, so I was forced to fill out little white and yellow call cards. Then I would have to wait patiently for a librarian to climb the stairs and search the closed shelves for my sought after book. I also had to learn to think independently. I was without a prompt; nothing was given to me by a professor pointing me in a direction to begin. Instead I had to come up with my own thoughts and reasons. That out-of-the-box thinking forced me to think critically and on a broader scale. It led to question after question, eventually making me question what I was doing. “Stay the course,” I told myself. After some time I did and I grew my “sea legs.”
            A result was my quest to learn and understand how Wheatley and Samson Occom saw themselves in a world that was upside-down. Both Wheatley and Occom were minorities and victims of Euro-American colonization. At a young age they both were exposed to western religions, education, and languages. How did they cope? Did they bow to these new ways? This led to something else, something larger, complex and unknowing to me; what do they tell us about cultural identity through literature in 18^th century?
            Before I answer those questions I think it is important to discuss the second part of my trip. After gaining a wealth of knowledge in Boston, and finding my direction I traveled to Hanover, New Hampshire, home of Dartmouth College. Occom is arguably the second most important figure in Dartmouth history, though I would argue he is the most important. During his life he helped fundraise for the college, thinking it would educate Native Americans. Sadly this was not the case. While at the college I spent hours upon hours in the many libraries scattered across the campus. I sailed through articles and books trying to piece together Occom and Wheatley. I yearned to answer the questions I posed above. But before I arrived the two-hour bus ride from Boston to Hanover gave me plenty of time to think. As we chartered our course through the pine tree covered hills and cliffs I wondered how Occom saw this land and his reactions? Was he as amazed as I?
            Towards the end of my expedition I was able to piece together what my research meant and I was able to answer the questions that set the wind to my sails. Without going into too much detail since some constraints won’t allow me, I will summarize my findings. Using Wheatley and Occom as case studies, I was able to conclude that Euro-American pressures, such as religion, education, and language, bombarded Africans and Native Americans in 18^th century New England. Wheatley and Occom faced these pressures, however, their writings show how they coped and dealt with such pressures. Instead of succumbing to them, they in turn used them to write literature that allowed them to speak out against the pressures and for the better treatment of their people. This “anti-colonial” style enabled Wheatley and Occom to reach different audiences and to some degree contribute to the positive advancements of minorities during this time. What stands out the most is that they stayed true, at least partly, to their core cultural identities.
            A key question that I think is important to answer is, what knowledge and experiences can I bring back to W&J? I think the first is independent thinking and motivation to uncover questions that may not get asked. I know that sounds broad and to some extent general but what I mean is that this experience taught me to look beyond the confines of what feels comfortable and look at issues from different angles. My new outlook on libraries and the inter-library loan program is another aspect that I think I can bring back. W&J has a fantastic library, however, it is not very large and unfortunately it has its limitations. That shouldn’t stop our research though, the horizon continues even though we may not see that far. The inter-library loan program makes looking beyond possible. The last aspect that I want to touch upon is my view of culture. My research prompted me to do extra research on different cultures and look at them from different perspectives. While I think W&J has worked to be more diverse, we have our limitations. With more Magellan Scholars and trips such as mine, perhaps even if we cannot change things from a tangible perspective, we can change our minds, which are endless, through the knowledge that we learn and consume along the way, which can be spread without limits.
            I want to end on one of the most defining moments of my Magellan. I say one because I had many but on a personal level this one strikes me as important. It was one of the last days that I was in Hanover and I really wanted to experience a New Hampshire breakfast at Lou’s, the local diner, but I couldn’t build up the courage to go in. Usually I would walk past and look in, just to keep on walking. But on this day, things changed, I felt different. Fearful, as usual, I looked in and started walking away but something stopped me and I turned around and walked in. It may seem insignificant but that defining moment was when I realized that I could do anything I want. Nothing, no one, will ever stand in the way of my hopes and dreams. If that feeling, produced completely by my Magellan experience, made me go into a diner, I cannot wait for what my future has in store for me.

Above are two final pictures I would like to leave you all. The first is a statue of Phillis Wheatley at Boston's Women Memorial. The second is of a piece of José Clemente Orozco's 24-panel "The Epic of American Civilization." These represent the immortality of Wheatley and Occom, and also what they stood for, the better treatment of a people oppressed.  

One week left

With only one week left I am not entirely sure how I feel. Sure I am happy that I finally will be going back home, two months on the road alone has been rough, but then on the other hand I've grown accustomed to it. I do what I want, when I want, however I want. These past two months have spawned a certain degree of, dare I say, independence?

*originally an unpublished blog post that I decided to publish later even though it was never finished.

Reading, Writing, Motivation

What a week...it honestly felt like it just flew by...where is it all going? It's funny to compare my thoughts and feelings of this place when I arrived here...it is like night and day. I guess I was sick with culture shock for the first week, which isn't surprising since that is how it was like when I was in Boston.

Nonetheless, this week has been a BLAST! It honestly is perhaps the best week I have had on this Magellan trip. I'm almost as shocked as you are....especially after all my posts from Boston and all the amazing things I saw there...how could something here...in the middle of the wilderness top Boston? Well, I think when it all comes down to it, it is that small town culture. 

Let me start from the beginning....

On Monday after catching up on blogging and doing some writing I went to get some lunch. There is a BBQ place in town that I was dying, literally and figuratively, to try. The place is in the basement of a building right off the street...it looks a little like I dungeon from the outside (I may have some pictures somewhere of it). The place was empty, well just about, but to me that is always a bit of a red flag...empty places usually means not very good food. But I proceeded in and ordered some food. I ended up sitting at the bar, trust me, you will feel ten times better sitting alone at a bar than across from an empty chair. 

Anyways the bartender was really nice and since they weren't busy she had time to talk. So that's what I did for my entire lunch break. Another worker wondered over and we all probably sat there and just talked about Dartmouth, Hanover, New Hampshire, and Vermont for probably close to two hours. It was great, especially since they gave me the "411" on the town and different places in the area that I had to try or see...One thing we did talk about was...maple syrup! And they just so happened to have a little in the back and I got to try it...Move on over Log Cabin and Aunt Jemima...this stuff was amazing. It was smooth, thin, and tasted a little like butterscotch, and apparently this stuff was grade B...Makes me wonder what grade A tastes like, that means I'll have to investigate! 

While there I inquired about good hair cutters in the area. My hair was getting way too long...I may have been able to braid it, which made it too long in my book. The only problem is, is that I am very, very, very protective over my hair. No idea why, but I already found my barber and having to have someone else touch this locks of curls was going to be heart wrenching....it needed to be done though. So, like I was saying I have been asking around but the places that were being suggested to me just weren't cutting it...they included a "men's salon" which I didn't understand...I wanted a barber....they know how to cut, period. I didn't want anything fancy...I just wanted it cut. One of the workers at the BBQ place suggested the barber shop right upstairs...figuring I had nothing to loose I went in.

At first I was a little concerned. It was a barber shop, but two women were working. Nothing against women, but I had always thought barbers were men. I sat down and waited my turn. They seemed really nice, but I was still kind of nervous...especially when I noticed everyone was paying in cash. You seen, getting cash is hard...there are certainly no PNCs in the area, so getting money out of an ATM means a service charge, and the whole thing is a mess...

The one lady finally finished though and asked if I was ready, as soon as I got up I asked her if they only took cash, she said yes so I said ok I'll go get some, just take the next person and I'll wait. She smiled and said just get in the chair and when I am done just leave something, an ID or a backpack and go to the ATM. She didn't want me to come back and then have to wait in line behind a bunch of more people...She was so sweet and it was such a nice gesture.

All while she cut my hair we talked about Vermont, New Hampshire, maple syrup, you know the usual things a tourist would ask about. She then told me about a bakery that was across the street, which I had seen but never went in. She raved about their "crullers" which are like a doughnut. Anyways, when she was done cutting my hair I went and get some cash to pay her. She did a fantastic job, I was very surprised. I paid her and gave her a tip, which she declined. She handed it back to me and said, "Go across the street and get a cruller." And of course I died inside because it was such a nice gesture. 

The barber shop & BBQ place...

I mean lets break down the situation, young kid walks into your shop, hair looks like a mop, doesn't know what he wants, so you the barber have to kind of figure it out for him, then it takes you forever because there is so much hair, he is talking to you the entire time while you're cutting it, and then he has to go across the street to get cash...but you still refuse the tip so he can go buy a cruller....She might be the greatest woman in the world (behind my blood relatives who are women). Of course I couldn't let her not have a tip, so I said, "I can't, you did such a good job, and were so polite and talked to me. Listen if yo don't take it, I'll have to buy you one too and bring it over" to which she replied, "Honey, I'm on a diet, I'm going on vacation" to which I responded, "You look good, now I'm leaving it right here..." It was such a great time and I was really impressed with my experience.

I eventually did try the cruller. It was delicious, here's a picture:

Heaven

On Tuesday I met with a professor here at the college who is doing a digital humanities project on Samson Occom. She is transcribing his manuscripts in the Dartmouth archives and also scanning them so they can be available to view online. Many libraries and also historical societies are starting to do this because it preserves their materials and also makes them available to people who may not be able to travel to the society, etc. Anyways, I met with her and one of her research assistants in the special collections library.

Having the opportunity to observe her work was really cool. They showed me how they transcribe the manuscripts and also what the online database is going to look like. Of course I had to ask questions, such as why are you doing this, how do you make editorial decisions about transcribing...etc...etc. They asked about my research so I explained what I was doing and also information about the Magellan Project. The research assistant, who is a senior here, said she was jealous that W&J had such a project and Dartmouth didn't...Mark a win for the small liberal arts college from Pennsylvania. Whoot! Whoot!

While there I learned a lot about the project, I was really impressed with how large it was and how many different people were involved in it. The project was not just limited to English majors or professors, but included ITL (technology people), American studies people, and also a student who majored in the classics. It is certainly an interesting web of people who are strung together to work on the project- very cool! I also had the opportunity to get up and close with some of Occom's journals, which is what they are currently transcribing.

Having someone just ask questions and seem interesting in my research is really heart-warming? I say that because you pour so much energy into a project, yet, to the average person Wheatley and Occom mean nothing (sorry guys so offense but its true). Now I'm certainly not saying you aren't capable of understanding my research, but lets face the facts, you don't really care so much about the research as much as you are happy that I am doing it. Does that make sense? You are happy, that I am happy, because I am doing something I like...I mean it makes perfect sense. Here's a perfect example, I had a friend who completed a Magellan project in Boston last summer, she was a chemistry research assistant,  I think...anyways...when she explained her project I had no idea what she was talking about. I mean I understood the basics, but I have very limited knowledge of chemistry...so I was more happy that she was happy, than excited about her research...I hope that makes sense...it's not a bad thing...but sometimes when you meet someone who can understand your work, it exhilarating because they get you.

Back to the meeting...so the professor and I talked so more about Dartmouth and its relation to Occom. I was curious as to how it saw him, and the college's relationship with Native Americans. It was a very interesting discussion, and then we talked about things that I should do while I am here...specifically things I should see. Apparently there are really famous murals here that I have to see...so needless to say you will probably see them in a blog post soon. Also, since our meeting was so short, it only lasted about an hour, the professor invited me to dinner so we could talk more about my research, etc. It was a very nice gesture, probably the nicest offered to me this trip.

Looking out over the first floor of the research library...

As for my research...a lot of things have been working out really well. They are definitely coming together and I am starting to see a clear picture of my work. I still have an uphill battle, but I'm getting to the top, slowly, but I will make it.

General pictures...

Lesson of the day: Keep your head up- things will always turn around!

  

Where am I again?

Hello! Hello! You are probably thinking, probably not but let's pretend, where has he been? Yes unfortunately I haven't been avidly blogging like the past but that is because I think I am still trying to get used to my surroundings. So this blog post is going to be a mash up of things from that last few days.

Life in New Hampshire and Vermont has been really interesting. It is much different from the city, which isn't really a surprise since these towns are much smaller. So I guess now would be a good time to address what I am doing in NH/VT since I think some people are a little confused with where I am.

First a geography lesson, here is New Hampshire and Vermont:

I am staying right in the middle of the map, in the Hanover/Lebanon area. I conduct my research at Dartmouth College, which is located in Hanover, NH, however I stay in housing in White River Junction, Vermont. So technically my project is taking place in two states- BOGO! (buy one get one free)

An average day for me is as follows...Monday thru Friday I get up at 6am and catch a bus at around 7am. I have about a 30-40 minute bus ride to Hanover, NH where Dartmouth is located. While I am on the campus I do research in the library, read scholarly articles online, write portions of my paper, and blog (since I have wifi). At around 5pm I have to catch the bus back since it only runs from morning to early evening. Once I get back I make something to eat and go to sleep so I can start all over. 

Here are some pictures of the town:

Train station- Amtrak etc

Formerly the town Post Office

WRJ (White River Junction) is an old railroad town. The tracks run right through the town and are still active, very active in fact. I hear probably 4-5 trains come through daily. As are many RR towns in recent years (not that recent but you get my drift) it is pretty rundown. It reminds me a lot of my own hometown back home. From the pictures and just the layout it appears it used to be the happening place back in the day, but no longer is that the case. All the basic necessities for life have moved elsewhere, meaning there isn't a grocery store in the town, or anything like that. The only thing that is left are a few cafes, pizza shop, hair cut places, a frame and yarn shop (ya I don't understand how they have any business), and some offices. In order for me to do almost anything I have to take the bus, so I rely very heavily on the public transportation system or I have to walk 10-15 minutes to somewhere close to the town.   

Hanover on the other hand, the college town home to Dartmouth is a small functioning country (not really, but it has everything). It's not a surprise but like any college town there are students that have needs so of course there is going to be economic stimulation so there are plenty of stores and places to eat. The town is really nicely kept, great sidewalks, clean streets, new places, and traffic lights. The college campus is beautiful. It actually reminds me a lot of Harvard, and even W&J. It has that old colonial look with plush lawns and brick buildings with large columns. Here's some pictures of the campus:

Sigma Alpha Epsilon Fraternity

So what are some notable things that have happened to me in the last few days...well let's see.

One is certainly the unexpected fire drill that the hotel preformed on the Fourth of July. I was sitting in my room doing some work and I heard this loud buzzing. I cracked open the door and realized that it was an alarm. I assumed it was the fire alarm...but I mean what do you do? Yes obviously get out of the building but does one use the fire exits? Is it a drill? Should I act like it is real? These are the questions that anyone, anyone would have in an office building, a hotel, even a store...is this real? So I walked down the main stairs to the lobby where there were people just hanging out...sitting in chairs talking...so then I was confused. Is this a fire drill? I smelt burnt food, but I didn't really think anything of it. The lady at the desk informed us that the dispatcher would prefer we relocate to across the street....and I am thinking "What the hell does that mean?".....is there a fire? Yes? No? I don't know? Then some firetrucks came and firemen got out...So I am thinking, ok there is a fire...great...just my luck...and then ten minutes later the fireman comes over and interrogates us about who was cooking in the kitchen...of course no one answers...hell I hadn't even been in the kitchen yet. So after that we just went back in.

Apparently, just for clarification, there was not a fire but someone burnt food in the oven causing the alarms to go off.

My first experience on the free public transport bus was terrifying. Honestly though I felt much more comfortable on the subway in Boston than the small bus. I have no idea why, I think it might be because the subway stopped a lot, people didn't talk, and I could always get off anywhere and walk...where as in my new situation I can't. The bus travels over long distances and I can't just get off anywhere. 

As I said my first trip was terrifying. How do I use the bus...do I pull the string...what times does it come....I mean all these questions were bouncing around my head.     

Inside of the small bus...

I actually tweeted from the bus on my first trip. Here's a peek for those tweeterless people.

I felt that way for multiple reasons. I won't go into all of them, but I think you'll start to understand why I felt this way as I explain a few other of the incidents that happened. But on this first ride I was just very overwhelmed. I didn't know exactly what I was doing or where I was going. Everyone on the bus seemed to know each other and they talked the entire ride. It was like a barber shop or a gossip place...all these people did was complain about other people, talk about things happening in the town like flooding, or other stuff. It was like being stuck right back into high school. Then this older woman sat next to me. She was a sweetheart but I don't know if she was all there and I felt obligated to talk to her. She was really hard to understand and kept telling me that she hadn't been to this town for four months because she broke her hip, I think. So that situation freaked me out...but it wouldn't be the only one.

I took the bus to Hanover and just walked around the town. On the ride home though the bus slowed down at a stop and there were these two people waiting- a man and woman. The driver slowed down, threw open the doors, yelled out "[Name] you are too drunk, you're not getting on the bus" then slammed them closed and sped away. Here I am sitting there freaked out...because I am thinking what the hell just happened. Then the people behind me are talking about it, and I start to think of the worst case scenarios. What if they are pissed because that was their friend and they attack the driver? If it happens, where are my exits? Can I jump out of a moving bus? Do I call 911? Would they let me go? I mean typical Dave freak out moment. Nothing of course happened.

On my most recent ride I overheard some of the passengers talking about what I think were hard drugs. It was hard not to hear, and honestly I didn't want to listen but I couldn't help it...they were talking loud and I just overheard. From now on I put my headphones in and turn my music up really loud...pray a little...and just hope I make it to the next stop. Ok, so I don't do that...and the bus rides are not that bad...I do not feel like I am in any danger but that is honestly what has happened.

Sometimes, yes I feel very uncomfortable but I think that just comes with new places. Rest assured reader, if you are concerned don't be, all is well. I am sure things like this were occurring when I was in Boston, but I just didn't know.

My research has been going really well, and I actually contacted a few professors here about their research and field of study and I got some really cool replies. One professor is working on a project that involves Samson Occom and she said she would meet with me, and another professor who unfortunately is not on campus said she would correspond with me over email and answer any questions I had. It's really nice to see faculty members who want to talk to undergraduates and hear what you are working on. It's motivational because here is someone in the field, a scholar, who is taking time out of their day to hear you talk, or ramble on, about your project...it makes you feel important, good, like you are actually doing something right. I tip my hat to these professors, thank you!

Here is the library I have been held up in doing research:

No idea what this is...it looks like Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer 

Lesson of the day: Reach out to people, you might be surprised at what happens.    

The Struggles

...would be the title of the movie or book about my life. That or maybe the Trials and Tribulations of... would be more appropriate...either way...it would be something about overcoming challenges. Maybe that should be the pseudo-name of my Magellan Project....Struggles: the Journey North. That has a good ring...perhaps I'll publish a memoir once this is over.

Leaving Boston [which there will be a Boston post as a review...I just haven't gotten around to it yet] was unbelievably hard. I think the city knew I was leaving, so it decided to make my last 48 hours there a living hell. Before writing this post I was thinking to myself, is it starting to seem like you always complain about things? My initial response to my own question [oh great...now I have reverted to talking to myself...yep being alone has finally caught up with me...off to the looney bin] was yes, yes you do but, but, but that is ok. Because in the end, this blog is an outlet for me, a way to cope with all of these challenges and struggles. I may seem like I complain a lot, but what you don't see is the smile or grin that comes across my face when things just don't go the way they should. It is weird...and it is something that only started recently. I guess it is my way of looking at the bright side of something, or finding that silver lining...but while I will complain I take each moment here as a learning experience and even though sometimes things such...I am glad they happened because I can grow from them....

Ok, enough of the deep philosophical early morning life discussion. That's enough of a emotional aside for the day. Back to the story...

As I was saying...my last 48 hours were complete hell. For starters my checkout at Emmanuel College was one sheet of paperwork away from being a catastrophe. Apparently when I checked-in, through no fault of my own, I didn't complete the right paperwork. It was because I was temporarily in a different room than I was assigned so there was some...confusion? In the end I was packed and ready to leave, I had already called the cab and it was just a few minutes from arriving when I went to the front desk to inform the girl that I was checking-out. She said I needed to fill out some paperwork, which I figured I would have to, since being an RA at W&J I knew the ropes.

She flipped through the files over and over until she finally asked me if I even filled out papers when I arrived. I told her that I didn't think so, then she was confused, I was confused...the guy she called was confused. At that moment, as we are all standing in the lobby, my taxi arrives...awkward. I told them that I had to go, and the guy just handed me a sheet of paper and said to sign it...in a hurried fashion I scanned over it and signed it. I grabbed all my stuff and left....or so I thought.

I hadn't grabbed all my stuff, in fact I left a piece of my iPhone charger in the room, and I had a bit of a mishap with the taxi. That is a story I just cannot tell because as much as it pained me at that moment, reliving it would be like putting myself through a paper-shredder. Take my word for it, the "mishap" was horrible and embarrassing.

[Flashback]

Ok, so I forgot to mention...the night before I was supposed to catch my bus I read over my tickets. My ticket to return to Boston on July 31st- Check....my ticket to go to Hanover, NH on June 1st- Check....

JUNE? NO! Instantly I began to panic...I kept looking at the ticket...hoping, nay praying that the 6 was going to change to a 7 and all would be well. If you're not catching on...accidentally or irresponsibly I purchased a ticket for June 1st, instead of July 1st...which was a big deal since I was supposed to get on a bus that next morning.

I immediately bought a new ticket that night because the bus website made it seem like there weren't any refunds or date changes... But then the next morning I decided to call just to double check...apparently...the tickets were good up to 6 months...so I guess I didn't need to buy another.

WHY!?! WHY!?! WHY!?! Must companies make it unbelievably difficult for their customers. So the point of not putting something like that on your website is...for paranoid people like myself to get trapped and buy another ticket...probably not but come on guys...the same thing goes for the taxi incident- which we shall never speak of  - could have been avoided had their been more information provided for the customer... At this point I am starting to loose faith in our capitalistic business ways here...they seem way too aggressive.

With a new ticket in hand I arrived at Boston South Station to board my bus. I got there probably an hour to an hour and half early just because my luck was already terrible, so I figured I should probably play everything safe. I first went to the wrong part of the station...I was in the train part for awhile until I realized that there was a "bus" section across the ways...so I dragged myself over there.

I may be playing the mellow-dramatic card here...buuuuut I have never been somewhere so dirty. It sounds terrible to say but I am being 100% honest. The bus station was one of my most filthiest places I have been in Boston...far worse than any of the subway stations...or the streets. It was dark...dirty...crowded.

Arriving so early didn't help because I ended up waiting forever. I went to the terminal that was for the bus I was taking but it was the only terminal that didn't have chairs or anything. Thirty minutes before our scheduled departure, the bus was still not there. A group of people arrived and we were all standing there starring aimlessly out the window...

Back of the "bus" even though it was a "coach"

The bus did arrive right before the departure time. I figured that there would be plenty of room since it was just coming from the airport...I thought to myself, how many people could honestly get on at the airport?

My reaction upon entering the bus...

Apparently a lot...and it didn't help that just like when I boarded the train people ran to get in line and I didn't make it in time so I was one of the last people to board...Something that I thought was really interesting was that I have talked a lot on this blog about chivalry.  

Lets break this down- chivalry: courteous behavior, esp. that of a man toward women: their relations with women were models of chivalry and restraint. 

Ok so "that of a man towards women" so what is "that of a woman towards men"...so I couldn't find a word but I did see that someone described it as "lady-like"...well let me tell you, the bus had none of it.

I needed a window seat because I tend to get car-sick at times. It really depends on the day, but I wanted to play it safe since luck was not in my favor. Every window seat on the bus either had a person in the seat, or a backpack...I ended up just sitting next to a backpack until a guy came and I had to get up and let him in and sit back down in the aisle seat. More on the fellow later, but the woman in front of   me and in the seat next to me seemed, seemed like they were going to have the same problems. They both were sitting next to backpacks in aisle seats like me.

It wasn't until we were probably 10 minutes into the movie that the driver put on, Cinderella, why he chose that I have no idea because everyone on the bus was at least over 20...couldn't we have something a little more enthralling than a unbelievably children mind distorting Disney propaganda film...it wasn't until 10 minutes into this that I realized that these two women lied! LIARS! They both placed the bags on those seats to make people, like me, think they were sitting with someone when they weren't! How dare they!

And then to make matters worse they sat in the aisle seats still....who does that?! At this point in my 48 hours of hell, I was in no mood for such trickery. And it didn't help that my seat-mate...had was apparently having some hygiene problems...As soon as he sat down I smelt a foul smell, but I figured it was the bus...nope it was him. At about halfway through the trip he leaned over and informed me that he had been on three planes and thus he apologized for the smell....

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One of the most awkward moments and conversations of my trip, the subway conversations still take the cake but still I could have died. It wasn't that I am being dramatic or yuppie...but it was just weird. He even made an awkward laugh at the end...like something a used car salesman might say at the end of buy a car that is going to breakdown on the way out of the lot...If I only had the memory gun like on Men in Black I would be set.

The scenery on the ride was amazing. Once we got out of the city and populated parts it was beautiful. Huge lush forests covering large mountainous hills... signs for moose crossings. Large ravines and huge pine trees towered over the landscape. I wish I could have gotten a picture but the windows of the bus were tinted and it was have been futile. Before I knew it we were pulling into Hanover, New Hampshire. It surprisingly didn't feel like it took three hours...I mean it actually did but it felt a lot shorted (thank God).

I got off the bus and needed a taxi. The people at the place I am staying at suggested when I was planning this trip, to go into the hotel where the bus dropped me off and ask if they could call me a cab...now what is wrong with this picture. I didn't see it at first either...but think about it...

Person walks into Hotel A and asks for a cab to Hotel B... Opps. It may not seem like that big of a deal but this area is really small...It would be like going into Starbucks and asking if they have Dunkin Donuts or if they could tell you where the nearest one was.

Luckily the lady at this hotel was unbelievably kind and called a cab for me. I didn't sense any awkwardness until she asked me where I was going and I blurted out the name of the hotel, and then she just kind of looked at me and relayed the message to the cab company. I would have loved to stay at this place though, it was right across the street from where I am doing my research but it was an actual hotel, and not interim-housing like I have...not to mention it was unbelievably expensive.

Anyways, I waited about a half hour for this cab to arrive. I kept looking for a yellow taxi...I mean the name of the company was [name has been removed to shield the innocent]...so how could it not be a big yellow taxi....well it wasn't...

I am not lying when I tell this story...all truth.

An old red, rusty van pulls up to the hotel. It had a faded taxi sign on the top and tinted windows. In my mind I am saying, repeatedly, please please please please not today...I can't handle anymore bad luck. Please don't let this be mine. Now earlier I had saw a nice looking white taxi so I figured that it wouldn't be mine.

Just to make sure I approached the front window and who did I see?? No other than....

BEN FRANKLIN

I'm not joking. Literally good ole Ben returned from the dead and was sitting in the front of this van. I mustered out..."Is this taxi for David?" to which Ben replied, "Yep, throw your stuff in the back and get in..."

At that very moment a piece somewhere inside of me died... and I will never be able to get it back. What it was I don't know...a piece of my soul... or heart... or spirit... I can't tell you but I felt it. I pried open the door and jammed my suitcase in and got in the passenger seat. And that's when that thing happened...yes don't pretend like you don't know what I am talking about...that thing...

I may seem like I complain a lot, but what you don't see is the smile or grin that comes across my face when things just don't go the way they should. It is weird...and it is something that only started recently. I guess it is my way of looking at the bright side of something, or finding that silver lining

Yes I just quoted myself in my own blog post...but I smiled. I may have even chuckled... it was that beautiful moment when you realize you aren't living, unless you can laugh at yourself. So with that smile on my face we drove off. It was also at that moment when I realized telling someone you are a history major, or researcher, instantly makes people think you know the history about everything. This man started talking to me about Southern history the Anglo-Saxon history....followed by I think Alexander the Great...I mean we covered a lot of history...and while yes I knew a little about each of those things I was no expert.

After what felt like it was a longer trip than the bus ride we finally arrived at the hotel and I basically ran out of the cab. My trip got much better after that. The hotel check-in went very smooth and it is actually a nice place. Very old but I'm not surprised and I kind of like the old look to it. The room is small but just enough room for me.

Here are a few pictures of the place:

Washington & Jefferson College published an article about the Magellan Project, citing a record number of applicants this year! Check out the article and find out more about the Magellan Project and other students' projects! Click Here to read the article. 

Lesson of the day: You aren't living, unless you can laugh with yourself. 

It's been great Boston

When I realize it's my last full day in Boston

*originally an unpublished draft of my final post in Boston. I decided to upload it even though it was never finished.

Ciao and 你好

In a last-ditch effort to explore Boston before my departure I heeded one of the suggestions given to me on my Cap trip. In Boston there is an Italian equivalent to China Town in the North End, I guess christened unofficially "Little Italy?" Anyways my friends from the Cap suggested I go to this little café called Caffe Dello Sport. I must be getting good at finding my way around town because I successfully navigated to the North End without any problems. On this day, which is seems almost like everyday all of a sudden, there was a chance for rain. I hoped that if I moved quick enough I would be able to get in and get out before the downpour started.

Walking into the North End was really like going to another country! Finally I've made it to Europe!...

But it wasn't....

*A little note on the animated pictures (or .gifs). For some reason I am using them often now because I think they do a very good job of complimenting my writing. They show a visual dimension, and in many ways added humor to my descriptions. I hope they are enjoyable.

Anyways, after walking down this narrow street, surrounded by little shops and stores I made it to Dello Sport. At first I thought I was in the wrong place because well it didn't really look like a café. I thought it was a store, but after walking past then walking back I went in.

Picture of the street

Random picture from the street

As soon as I walked in Italian words filled the air. Wait, had I entered a different world? No, but it definitely felt like it. It was actually really awesome because I have never heard someone speak Italian in person. I have seen it on TV and in movies, but not up close and in person. I guess that is another really cool aspect of living in America or a large city, you get to see so much of other cultures. While I have been in Boston I have heard many different languages, seen many different ethnicities, and observed different cultures. All of this in one place. I guess there was no need to go outside of the United States to experience a different culture...right? Yes, that is what I am going to tell myself for now...until I cross the pond.

Anyways, so I walk in and like I said everyone is speaking Italian. I will be honest, I panicked a little bit. When it comes to languages I suck. Spanish is probably my strongest, by a tiny bit (it was useful in Puerto Rico though). My french is at a very beginners stage and my Italian vocabulary consists of pizza, mozzarella, and maybe some other words that are associated with food...oh and "ciao" maybe...though I doubt I am pronouncing it right.

Caffe Dello Sport

Nonetheless I walk up to the counter and explain to the young gentlemen that I am from a far off land and have heard that the cannolis here the best in Boston! Ok, so it was more like "Hey I heard you guys have really good cannolis, could I have one?" The dramatic description creates a more glamorous scene. He asked me what kind I wanted, I probably looked confused because I didn't realize there were different kinds, so I just said that I would take whichever was his favorite...I mean he must know which ones are the best, he looked Italian.

With that he grabbed a chocolate covered cannoli shell and pipped it with the filing. Then he dipped the ends in chocolate chips and sprinkled the top with powdered sugar. Then he wrapped it up and handed to me, then I had to give him money- damn so much for a freebie.

When the cannoli came into my grasp, it was like the world stopped and heavenly light shined down form the plaster ceiling above. Angels came pouring out from all around and a sweet melody started playing. As I walked out the door I took my first bite and BAM! The taste was incredible! It was delicious, it was magnifico!

After exploring the streets a little more I decided to head on over to China Town to get my last bubble tea. I couldn't help myself. If you have not had a bubble tea drink before then unfortunately you cannot emphasize with my need to get one more before I left. So off to China Town I went to get one. This time I felt a little more like an expert when it came to ordering. It always seems a little confusing because the menu isn't very clear and I'm nervous as hell because most of the people there do not speak very good English, and I don't speak their language (so I am just as bad)... But it was successful and I got my fill...

On my return back to Government Center to get the green line I got sidetracked...by a 26¢ (yes that is cents) sign for coffee...

26 CENTS?! 26?! Wait...so a little over a fourth of a dollar...1 quarter and 1 penny for a cup of coffee...COFFEE?!? Am I imagining this?!?!

Now with all that excitement, of course I had to investigate.

At first I was really confused, naturally anyone, anyone who has bought coffee almost anywhere knows that coffee does not cost 26 cents, unless there were some strings attached...would I have to sell my soul to the devil, sell my kidney, give up my first born son to the coffee gods...?! Which one was it?

As I was standing in line this man approached me and asked if I had any questions. Naturally, I asked why the coffee was so cheap. His response was interesting. You see I was expecting an answer like, "We are the coffee company of the future. We are hear to compete with Starbucks and DunkinDonuts. We are a small company that buys free-trade beans only, and we have a direct source to our growers...and we are organic and environmentally friendly..." Seriously though, I was expecting a California hippy-like response that was going to be epic....instead...well it couldn't have been further from what I had thought.

The little coffee truck in all its glory

Instead, and I will only paraphrase this because reliving the disappointing moment will only bring sadness upon me. The gentleman told me that it was a marketing tool...you see the company they were marketing for is Vanguard...some kind of finance company or something like that...and apparently this company only charges its customers, 1/5 of the market average...so as a way to help people understand this concept, they used something we were all familiar with- coffee. From a marketing perspective I think it's a great concept. It is attention grabbing and easy to understand, but as myself and the gentleman learned, I was far, far, far, far, from using a company like Vanguard. Hell I have one more year of undergraduate education left...I am more worry about loans and financial aid then stocks and bonds...but nonetheless he appreciated my question and I definitely appreciated his response.

Nonetheless I got in line and waited to get my 26 cent coffee. As I was standing there...and this is when things got well weird. I usually don't smile at people in the city because well I am scared to...I don't know how they will respond. But this older woman in front of my seemed so nice and polite that I had to. So I smiled and she says..."Honey...you don't look like a coffee drinker..."

Hold up...wait a minute. This woman is passing judgement on me... not a coffee drinker? Little does she know I am a gold card member at Starbucks and have been one since 2011...

So I asked..."I don't?" I'm thinking to myself...ok what is it...the mustache, the long hair, the college student attire...? The Nike shoes?

She simply responds..."You look more like a tea drinker...." What wait!? Let's back the conversation up a second...a what!?

Pardon the language...but just go with it....

Ok yes I do drink tea, but I would choose a cup of coffee over tea. How does one look like tea drinker...does she not see the 70s porn mustache on my face?! Where does one get the tea idea from...

Anyways after that weird experience her and I just chatted for awhile. The line was kind of long so we just talked. I explained my Magellan Project to her, and she was really expressed. She was kind of shocked that we plan and carry-out these projects on our own and independently. She also really liked my research topic and we had a nice conversation about Native Americans attending Dartmouth and also Harvard. It was really nice. She was from the area, and actually worked as a juvenile advocate at the court...or something like that. It was really nice. I forgive her for the tea comment since we had about a 15 minute conversation.   

And with that ended one of my last days exploring or going to different places in the city. From here on out it was library, library, library....

I also mailed out a few postcards today too...here they are:

Each had something to do with my experience here. For instance bottom right is Bates Hall, the place where I have spent many hours writing/researching, top right is the CITGO sign by Kenmore Square...

Lesson of the day: Sometimes just a simple conversation can be the highlight of your day.

Happy Birthday on the Cape

Today is my birthday! It's weird spending it here in Boston away from Pittsburgh. I guess when I was planning my Magellan I never really thought about what I was going to do on my birthday...ok so maybe I did a little...but I never expected spending it on Cape Cod!

My original plan for my birthday was to celebrate it with some friends who were going to come to Boston for a few days...unfortunately that didn't occur so I figured I was going to spend my birthday in the Boston Public Library with a stack of books and a raincloud above my head...get the metaphor? Thankfully that didn't happen and instead out of the blue a friend from W&J who is from the New England area asked if I wanted to get out of the city and see the Cape (yes, I am going to refer to Cape Cod as "The Cape" since apparently that's what Bostonians and Caponians (don't think this is a word, but oh well) do.   

This was my face when I found out I would be going to the Cape!

First and foremost, don't judge me for my excitement! Think about it for a minute...how many times a year do you hear references to the Cape...ok so I don't know the number but to someone from western Pennsylvania, Cape Cod is almost folklore. It's something you hear about, but never really get to see. Have you ever been to Cape Cod? If you answered yes, well good for you, but I am assuming most people are thinking to themselves..."Well...no..." so there...now you understand my extreme excitement. 

So after being invited to the Cape I needed to figure out a way to get there. First I thought about maybe taking a ferry from Boston, but there isn't service to Hyannis (the place I was going to). So next I thought well maybe I can take the red line (subway) down as far as I can go, but of course construction halted service this weekend. My friend suggested the CapeFlyer, which ended up working perfectly.

The CapeFlyer is a passenger rail service that goes between Boston and Hyannis, Cape Cod. Here's a look at its route:

Awesome, I have a direct route there and I don't have to worry about changing trains or having to take a bus, the trip seemed perfect......key word is seemed....until I looked at the schedule. The Flyer was departing from Boston South Station at 8AM...which means I would need to be at the station by at least 7:30AM...and because I could only buy my ticket at the station I should be there by at least 7AM so that I can get a ticket incase there is a line, or they sell out. 

So at 6:00AM this morning my alarm buzzed and I woke up...really easily. It's weird that sometimes you can wake up and be instantly ready for the day, and other times I feel like I have to coach myself out of bed. Perhaps it was my birthday, or maybe just the excitement of getting out of the city that made me wake up so easily.

An empty subway car early in the morning- why can't it be like this all day?!

Boston South Station

Getting to the South Station was an adventure itself. I knew the area that it was in, but I wasn't really sure where it was. Good thing I left early because as usual I got lost...again. I guess I haven't figured out how to use Google Maps yet. But needless to say after wandering in the wrong direction for about 5 minutes, my supposed 10 minute walk from Government Center to the South Station turned into a 20 minute walk. No big deal, I arrived at the station just in time to buy my ticket and get ready for the train.

The station was really crowded and for whatever reason they waited until about 5 minutes before departure to announce what track the train would be on. Once the board flashed with the track number people went crazy. All of a sudden people from all over the station started running to the train. Immediately I am thinking, I need to rush too. I've never been on a train before so I had no idea why these people were basically running. Was it because they wanted the good seats? Would there be a long line? Was there a security check-point? You honestly would have thought a race was occurring.

I walked down the track to the train and there's nothing. No lines, no security, just open doors to the train. I walked in and looked around. Why in the hell were people running? This train was certainly nothing to write home about. It looked like a slightly, and I use the word "slightly" very loosely, upgraded version of the subway. Perhaps I was in the wrong car I thought...maybe these are the cheap ticket seats and there are better ones somewhere else. So I asked this lady in the seat in front of me, "Excuse me, do I have to sit somewhere specific, or show someone my ticket?" She just stared blankly at me, like I asked her why do we need oxygen to live, and responds, "Umm honey...ya I don't think there are assigned seats..."

A view from my seat

Well...ok thanks. Nonetheless I moved away from her and took a single seat in the back of the car. The train had wifi, so I figured I would do a little work on the 3 hour ride. Of course it was my birthday but work is work. So I took out my laptop and connected...to...the...wifi....which.....was.....so....slow....I ended...up....just....turning....off....my.....laptop.

I guess that was a Happy Birthday to myself? No work! Yay... But it actually worked out really well because it gave me plenty of time to look at the scenery. I was on the lower level of the car, it was like a double decker, so I didn't get to see a whole lot but I did see a bunch of fields, which at first I wasn't sure what they were. And then it suddenly it dawned on me that they were cranberry bogs... Who would of thought that cranberries grew in Massachusetts?! Not me. And of course all the houses had that "New England" look to them. They were small and one story with the wood squares on the outside (see my pictures below for a better explanation).

Here are some pictures from the train:

Checking tickets

The 3 hour ride actually didn't seem to take that long because before I knew it the train was arriving in Hyannis.

The train

As part of my tour we went to this place in Sandwich (yes the town's name is Sandwich...hmm) where water comes from an underground spring and it is supposed to be magical? Fountain of youth in Massachusetts!? Apparently people filled up large containers of the water, and sure enough when we got there, this woman have a big class jar and was filling it up with water.

Of course I had to try it so we got out and filled up some water bottles. No joke, this water was really good and cold! Maybe it contained some magical writing powers? Probably not, but a kid can wish. Here's a few pictures of the fountain:

The town and surrounding area was really nice. It was small and had that little town feel to it...and it was QUIET! Finally some peace! I love the city, it's incredible, but it is never quiet. Even when you are in buildings it is loud. But on the Cape, it was quiet and cool. There was even a breeze!

For lunch we went to a little market/sandwich shop. I got the "Big Plymouth" since after riding through all those cranberry bogs, all I could think about was Thanksgiving. It was delicious! It contained turkey,  stuffing, cranberries, and I think some mayo? Whatever it was I was in heaven, and I definitely know what I am going to do with Thanksgiving leftovers!

After picking up the sandwiches we went back to their house for awhile and ate lunch. Then we went to the beach- which I was really looking forward to. Since being in Boston I haven't had the opportunity to see the water, with the exception of the harbor and Charles River...but that wasn't really the shoreline...it was more off a dock or from far away. Well this time I was actually going to a beach!

This beach was definitely different from the ones I was used to (Outerbanks, etc). It was a lot more rocky, and the waves were calm...but let me tell you...it was relaxing. An hour sitting on the beach with your feet in the sand/stones...catching a nice breeze off the water....who knew I was only 3 hours away from the chaotic city of Boston?! I loved it! Which is surprising since I'm not really the beach kind of person.

The train ride back seemed to take much longer than my trip to the Cape. Maybe it was because I was returning to the city, or because it started to get dark so I ran out of things to look at out the window. Whatever it was, the feeling returning home was bittersweet. What a great way to spend a birthday...on the Cape with a great group of people.

With that being said, a huge shout-out to my friend and her family for their wonder hospitality and for making me feel so welcomed. Having the opportunity to explore another part of New England, especially Cape Cod was something I have always wanted to do and I am very thankful that they allowed me the opportunity to do so.

Lesson of the day: When an opportunity presents itself- take it! You might not get the chance again!