The Active Life

Of course, it's not as important what you study as what you do. The lifeblood of Harvard is its extracurricular universe; with more than 250 independent student groups, everyone gets to be president.

There are those students who plunge their very souls into their extracurriculars. (We at The Crimson wouldn't know anything about that.) One minute you have perfectly normal roommates, and the next they've vanished to produce the Hasty Pudding Show (Harvard's annual drag extravaganza), plan cultural fairs for the Asian American Association (the largest group on campus) or dress up as stags for midnight rituals of the Science Fiction Association (if they're into that sort of thing).

Some of the oldest, most time-consuming activities generate their own characteristic "types": the smooth-talking future senators of the Institute of Politics, the do-gooders at Phillips Brooks House Association, Harvard's umbrella community service agency, and the oft-maligned windbags of the Undergraduate Council.

Publications range from liberal (Perspective) to conservative (the Salient) and useful (the Let's Go travel guide series) to pointless (the Harvard Lampoon, a semi-secret Sorrento Square social organization that used to occasionally publish a so-called humor magazine).

However, even though Harvard has a $13 billion endowment salted away, most student groups are forced to make do with pennies. Many students were outraged when the administration announced plans earlier this year to rebuild a historic ornamental tower on Memorial Hall rather than a desperately needed student center.

Sports teams have little trouble getting money, though. Surprisingly, Harvard even has a few good teams. The women's hockey team won a national championship this year, and men's tennis includes the best player in the country. But only a few of the rest of us actually make it to games--if you want to join a large and enthusiastic bleacher crowd, try the Big Ten. Athletes' facilities across the river are fantastic, but here in Cambridge, pungent crowds and dated equipment fill gyms used by students and the ubiquitous "Harvard affiliates," the MAC and the QRAC.

Harvard devotes its money to collecting not brand-new treadmills but timeworn treasures. There are lots of benefits to Harvard you may never get around to using (the Gutenberg Bible?), but you'll feel vaguely good just knowing they're there. Go see a former dictator speak at the Kennedy School of Government. So many world leaders come you simply won't have time for any who lead countries smaller than France.

The Social Life

But forget lectures--the question you want answered is whether the social life is as terrible as you've heard.

Legend has it that Harvard is inhabited by a tribe of pasty-faced "former" geeks for whom social life consists of reading Nietzsche into the wee hours and obsessively checking e-mail. That isn't true, of course...or at least, it isn't entirely true.

Social life begins at home, first in randomly assigned entryways, and from sophomore year on in up to 16-person blocking groups (the core group of friends with whom you receive your Housing assignment). For students in a rush, grab-and-go lunches in Loker Commons are the norm, but it's not so unusual either to linger over an empty tray in your House dining hall through three cycles of conversation.

Don't worry, Harvard does have parties, at least on the weekend. Extracurricular groups and House committees plan dances (ranging from the tragically lame Bare as You Dare to the pleasantly lame Leverett '80s Dance). The calendar is sprinkled with formals, especially in the spring--look for the Eliot House Fete, which features chocolate-covered strawberries and swing dancing.

Room parties are often fun, particularly if you know the hosts; other times they're just loud, sweaty and invaded by the cops at 1 a.m. when the search for alcohol moves elsewhere (check out the Crimson Sports Grille). But for the athlete elite and the first-year women who love them, final clubs, exclusive all-male artifacts from the Roosevelt era--either Roosevelt--offer late-night festivities.

Interrupting the routine are a few marquee social events. The Adams House Masquerade on Halloween weekend succeeds in drawing costumed crowds, but good luck elbowing your way through the door. Though a shadow of its former self, the Harvard-Yale Game in November is the only time you'll see an outpouring of school spirit. Head of the Charles, a regatta weekend in the fall, is more fun for the legions of tourists than the students they inconvenience. And don't be fooled by the excitement of pre-frosh weekend--it's when the admissions brochure in all of us comes out.

Harvard Square is a magnet for young people in boring suburbs. The Pit People are only the most colorful example--they're the flock of pierced, dyed, leather-clad youths next to the T stop.

The Square is actually fairly cosmopolitan, with an abundance of restaurants and shops. It's also pricey and corporate--Abercrombie & Fitch is planning to open a branch across from the Coop next year. "Good Will Hunting" hangout Au Bon Pain and the ubiquitous Store 24 and CVS are downscale retreats.