Around Town
Get Out: Spring Break
Spring break plans fell through? Forgot to make plans at all? Don’t worry. If you’re stuck in Cambridge for this break, FM has you covered. We’ve planned out your first free day to distract you from the misery of a cold, empty campu
Hey, Professor! Star in a Bottle
Construction will shortly begin on the long-anticipated International Thermonuclear Experimental Reactor—a machine that, if it works, promises to solve most of the world’s energy problems for the next 30 million years. Howard M. Georgi ’68, a Harvard physics professor, sat down for a brief chat about how and whether ITER will actually work as well as its possible economic and political implications.
WHRB at 2 a.m.
It’s 2 a.m. on a Thursday night. Outside it’s freezing cold, pitch-black, and windy.
Scene and Heard: Ghungroo
6:23 p.m. I arrive at the Agassiz Theater and make my way to the main foyer, knowing that the show won’t start for another 40 minutes. A couple of parents stand eagerly at the front of a four-person “line” and point me towards the back. They tell an alum they’ve come from Southern California to watch their daughter, a senior, perform.
The Book Circle Across the Street
Once a month, a group of ten to 20 people push the shelves in the left room of the Harvard Book Store to make space for their discussion. They’ve just finished reading a book for the month’s meeting. The regulars exchange glances as they look around at the new faces.
Behind The Scenes of "IVY"
A fashionably disheveled student, beanie and all, saunters through the door and slumps down into a chair across from a serious-looking blonde girl. He apologizes for his tardiness as he rummages through his backpack and pulls out his laptop. “Take your time,” she responds, in a voice that’s simultaneously understanding and agitated.
Harvard's Worst Art
It’s a snowstorm Saturday in Cambridge, and I’ve been hit by an unusual wave of both ennui and energy. Either the weather or some suppressed self-loathing has made me hungry to rip something to shreds. The critic rears its ugly head. My target today: Harvard’s art.
The Best in the World for $10
The roof sits so low you expect Bilbo Baggins to be inside, surrounded by a band of drunken dwarves. A fading Budweiser sign rises above the roof. In this snug brick building fifteen minutes from campus, a bearded bartender shook, stirred, then poured. He slid a glowing-red glass towards me, filled to the brim with one of the best cocktails I’ve tasted.
Oh, Sushi.
I am too old for this. Last week I arrived at a house party only to spend the first 20 minutes putting the finishing touches on my gender studies junior tutorial syllabus. Tonight is squishy, slushy, miserable, the kind of night that will leave the streets shiny, lethal disco floors by morning. It’s 11:30 p.m. on Saturday, I’m trudging alone down Mass Ave on the way to Eliot Street, and I have never more deeply regretted the existence of New England.
The Grafton Era
Harvard Square is a place where even the threatened passing of a Dunkin’ Donuts can prompt student outrage; passion for favorite food haunts runs deep. While both students and restaurants in the Square turn over as fast as patties at Tasty Burger, some local favorites persist.
A Bedtime Lamontstory
Though reports vary as to what it’s like to spend a night in Lamont, it’s clear that as the night drags into morning, the library ambience changes drastically. “I think there is a certain hour when the atmosphere becomes one of desperation,” said Ariel R. Walzer ’15.
Closing the Gates and Opening the Conversation
Two years out, many former Occupy Harvard participants challenge the notion that Occupy “failed.”
