New Photos

Check out the link on the top left, "Photo Gallery," for photos of Fenway Park & Harvard Yard from Sophie & Jeremy's trip to Boston!

Un déluge de francais

"Je le plus." It doesn't make sense, but he tries. Nick's new fascination with trying to speak bad French has been successfully incompréhensible.

"uhn, doo, trah, cat, sink..." he counts.

"Cinq, Nick, sank."

"Oh yeah, sank. Uhn, doo, trah, cat, sank, sees, set, wheat, neuve, dise! ... mone shoor... toojoors...

...je suis perdu." Well, at least he got the last one right. Yes, Nick is lost when it comes to French. But, he's learning : )

***

On Wednesday, we speed-walked to the Hatch Shell at the Boston Esplanade to try to catch the Youth Orchestra of the Americas play Bernstein, Dvorak and Rachmaninoff' at 7 p.m. Fifteen minutes late, we turned the final corner to find an empty Hatch Shell, and a menacing sign: "Performance has been moved to New England Conservatory, 290 Huntington Ave. "

"Escooze mee? Doo yu a knoe where eez zee conservatoire?" a voice behind us begged. The English was correct, but the accent was impossible to miss: French.

"No, we're trying to figure that out ourselves. Would you like to go with us?"

Forty-five minutes later, Nick, Hervie ("air-vee") and I had trekked more than halfway across the city, admiring east coast architecture and exchanging opinions on living in France. Hervie was an astronomy research assistant at Harvard. Bon.

When we finally arrived at the conservatory at 8 p.m., a herd of people had filled the lobby, looking eagerly toward the doors to the concert hall. The seats were full. Nobody else was let in. Merde.

"What the hell, let's get a drink." So we invited Hervie to take part in an old American pasttime: drinking oversized American beers in a dingy sports bar with fourteen oversized television screens playing the same Red Sox baseball game.

Of course, we couldn't get in until the bouncer had to ask Nick for a passport. "What, because I'm from the state of New Mexico?"

"Oh, right. Go on ahead, then."

Once Hervie got over the intimidation of choosing a beer (he prefers wine, duh), we settled down into a lovely evening of chatting about the weather in Nice (it's nice), rugby, and English translation of "quartier." It's neighborhood, I think.

***

"Joyeux anniversaire!" For Sophie's birthday this past weekend, Nick & I headed down to New York on the notorious Fung Wah bus at 6:30 in the morning. The only time the bus driver said anything to us what when we arrived in Chinatown, New York, to say, "Everyone get off!"

Chinatown, NY, isn't like Chinatown, San Francisco. In SF, Chinatown is a cute little street of trendy gift shops and sushi & karaoke bars; if you head one block east or west, you're back in San Francisco.

In New York's Chinatown, you feel like you're in Asia. Chinatown here is a quartier, not a street. At the fish pet store, you can buy a single fish for $1500. Next door, heavy fish smell drifts from boxes of questionable dead sea creatures sitting outside in the hot sun.

We decided to stop for lunch in Little Italy, instead.

To celebrate Sophie's birthday, we ate French takeout (I had a cheeseburger--I know, I know, but it had mushrooms on it), spoke with her French friend from Nice, and heard French everywhere from the Museum of Natural history to the Crocodile Lounge, where we got a free pizza with each beer we purchased. :D It was a tres francais weekend.

On the way home, Nick taught me how to count in Spanish. "Uno, dos, tres..."

***

Birthday Bash

The dawn of my 22nd birthday was rung in with a celebration of bells and harps (ok, it was 10 a.m. and I was woken up three times to get sung to over the phone by various loving family members).

For the first time in 11 years and only the second time in my life, my age was a palindrome. And, I felt old. (Is it possible to feel old at such a wonderful age? you ask. Well, yes, it is.)

Because I was now so old, Nick took me out to a delectable traditional French dinner where we drank very old wine (from 2005, so long ago--I was in high school at the time) at Le Petit Robert (translation: "the little robert." i dunno).

The vintage wine was paired with, as you can see above, real French bread and butter (I'm quite sure the butter was made from French cows, though whether they imported the cows or the butter itself, I can't be sure). For l'entree, I ordered le saumon avec du brocoli, des carottes, et des pommes de terre, all severely sauteed in a smattering of delicious French butter. [sidenote: how is it that the French are so thin and eat so much delicious French butter? It must be calorie-free French butter]. Nick had le swordfish.

At the end of the meal, which was concluded by a profiterole in ice cream savagely covered in a deluge of chocolate sauce, I licked my spoon clean, smacked my lips, and tipped my head back to suckle the last drop from the bottle of Chanteduc wine from the Cotes du Rhones before groveling to the back kitchen to beg for more.

Before my poor mother faints at the horror of such une enfant impolie, let me say that this is not actually what happened, although it is very close the the reality of what I was dreaming at the time. The meal was delightfully vrai francais, as the bill was sure to remind us, and I couldn't have been happier sharing it with anyone else. Thank you Nick : )


After dinner, Nick and I met up with the other guys from Project Blue Book and some friends at King's cosmic bowling alley/pool tables bar/restaurant/lounge for some good old fashioned fun, where I failed yet again to break 100 in a game of bowling, twice. woo.

All in all, it was a mature evening that only an elderly 22-year-old could appreciate, to be sure. It really couldn't have been better.

New England Aquarium's Fate is Sealed - Institution Involved In Furry Practices

The United States Supreme Court concluded, last Friday, that the New England Aquarium was to be investigated on suspicion of animal abuse. The penguins alone have filed fourteen separate complaints about the cafeteria, which has supplied for twenty years the same fish-- dead ones.

"I don't see what the problem is," interrupted aquarium CEO Stevie Wonder, "we, as human beings, eat dead food EVERY day. How many of you have complained about your lack of live food?" "What Mr. Wonder fails to see," responded penguin expert Ms. Anne Coulter, "is penguins aren't people, and they have different needs."

Aquarium officials were documented giving limp, lifeless fish to the imprisoned penguins. One official was photographed hand feeding an unsuspecting penguin in the eastern quadrant of the penguin pool on Friday.

"Penguins need to catch fish," explained Coulter, "you see they become docile and cute when they cease hunting. After years of failing to catch a fish in the wild they lose confidence and start to show signs of... chill." She then proceeded to point out every penguin chilling on a rock in the aquarium. The numbers were staggering:

97% of all penguins were marked down as "chill." Of the remaining penguins 2% were marked down as "less than cute" and the final 1% was recorded chasing a shadow underwater.

"You see," said ex-politician Al Gore, "penguins are taking the brunt of global warming. The heat has a lethargic effect on them. I fail to see any difference between their natural environment and that of the aquarium. This is nothing less than penguin apartheid. The only real difference is the lack of predators. In the wild penguins face many dangers, including: Sharks, whales, seals, boats, ice, snow, water, Nutella, and the common cold."

Settlement discussions between the penguins and aquarium officials will begin tomorrow. General polls show that 72% of Americans believe that sharks, live fish, and ice should be reintroduced to the penguin pool to help simulate their natural environment.

"All this will cost money, money we don't have." Wonder explained. "I don't see how the aquarium could acquire all this extra ice." There have been talks to bring in Dunkin' Donuts as the official donut of the New England Aquarium penguin pool.

"We, as the official donut of New England penguins, could provide live fish, sharks, ice and donuts to the generally chill penguin population in the aquarium;" explained Dunkin' Donuts CEO William Shatner, "Negotiations will begin tomorrow."

- Nick Benavides is a part time writer for nobody.

bow tie, glass of wine

the typical Harvard guy, at your typical Harvard bar.

Nick & I journeyed up to Harvard Square/Yard, and all those other Harvard-associated places, like Grendel's Den, the coolest name for the most New-England-lookin' bar I can think of.

The place was crowded--a good sign--during "half-price food" hour, a clever replacement term for "Happy Hour" in a state that doesn't allow Happy Hour (right?).

The half-off salad I ordered was half-as-good-as-expected, but the twice-as-expensive-as-anticipated sangria was pretty damn good. And then there was bow-tie-guy.

We first met bow-tie-guy when he came over to compliment Nick's Obama shirt, and to hand us a paper napkin with something written on it. Upon further observation, we found the scribble on the napkin to be a conundrum of sorts, a Latin phrase spelled forward and backward to create a certain desired effect of cleverness (clearly the frayed academic wit of a high school Latin teacher). It said:

ID AMABO | OBAMA DI

(over)

I SHALL LOVE IT or I SHALL LOVE THAT | OBAMA DEMOCRAT ILLINOIS

Cute, I thought. The old academic-looking guy in the maroon suit and matching bow tie picked Nick out of the crowd (okay, so Nick was the only one in the room not wearing a collared shirt).

"Look at him, drinking that classy glass of red wine alone at the end of the bar," I said to Nick. "Either he's a Harvard guy, or he's a crazee."

As we approached the end of our rather disappointing meal (but delightfully refreshing beverages), bow-tie-guy came up to us again, apologized for the strangeness of the napkin conundrum, and proceeded to entertain us in a conversation over music and academics, intermittently filling in with quacky jokes (the kind you prepare yourself to politely huffah at, and end up actually finding funny). It was a surprisingly charming discussion.

And it turns out he's an admissions officer at Harvard.

...

Whoever first said it's a small world couldn't have been more right. The lady I bought my running shoes from today has a niece at Santa Clara University, and while on the T that we jumped onto at the last minute, Nick ran into a guy who he knows from school. It makes one wonder how many friends we're just barely missing as we go about our day..

The Dunkin' Donuts Diet

Chocolate Glazed Cake Donut (Dunkin' Donuts)
Serving Size: 1 Donut; Calories: 280, Total Fat: 15g, Carbs: 33g, Protein: 3g

"Americans run on Dunkin' Donuts." I just don't see how this can be the famous donut chain's motto. I had one Chocolate Glazed Cake Donut and an iced coffee slushy thingy, and I am far from motivated to run.

In Boston, there is a Dunkin' Donuts on every corner, and there's always somebody in it. Is this a scheme to get all east coast Americans to have heart attacks, telling them that it will keep them running? Is this another attempt at population control?

I dunno, maybe I should try it. The Dunkin' Donuts Diet. Just Dunkin' Donuts, three meals a day. And go running inbetween meals. When I have a heart attack from all the delicious donuts, do you think I can sue?

Day-to-Day

I go to Walgreens about once a day. An excuse to get out of the apartment and off my new iPod touch, i guess. Not that I can afford it. (The iPod touch was free, a present from Nick. He got it with his new Macbook Pro.) But, I need to get out of the apartment.

Sometimes, if I'm daring, I go to CVS instead. It's closer, but usually more expensive. Not that I can afford anything, anyway. I usually end up getting a 99 cent Arizona Iced Tea (original Lemon, of course). What I have yet to realize is that, if I got one of those for every day that I spend in Boston for the rest of the time I'm here, I would be spending upwards of $70. Overprocessed tea really does add up.

My favorite street to walk down is Harvard Street, two blocks away. It has J.P. Lick's ice-cream ($3.67/scoop; 'still haven't dished out the cash for one), a nameless hippie store that sells overpriced tie-dyed dresses and smells second-hand, the Symphony dry cleaners (ten bucks for not getting the orchid stain out of my graduation dress; lame), the awesome Brookline Booksmith bookstore (used books downstairs), a CVS, and a Walgreens, among other Boston-like stores, such as the GAP and Panera Bread.

I was stoked about the Trader Joe's directly across the street from the apartment until I realized that the only produce I could get there was packaged in styrofoam, plastic wrap, AND paper, and it cost at least $4 a pound. Then Nick & I discovered the Stop & Shop about two blocks further. It was like heaven on earth. Aisles of apples, oranges, and potatoes as far as the eye can see...

Speaking of seeing, I can see the Great Cuts hair salon, Curry food restaurant, and Great Nails nail salon (best pedicure of my life) from the apartment window. The T (Boston lingo for metro/subway/train) runs right in front of the apartment, and if you get a Charlie Card (Boston accent mandatory for use: Ch-ah-lie C-ah-d), it's 30 cents cheaper per ride (woo!).

A freelance article I weasled my way into somehow worked out to get me an afternoon at the Boston Globe, where I observed the WriteBoston program and managed to meet the travel editor of the globe all in a day's work. Savvy.

My plan is to see more of Boston than the fireworks show (see below). Now that the weird rain showers have ceased, we may be able to do just that.

Boston Pops pollutes Charles, crowd

Boston, MA-- Record amounts of firework debris plummeted into the Charles River and the faces of unsuspecting spectators at yesterday's 35th anniversary of Boston Pops.

The music and fireworks 4th of July spectacle, usually a celebration of patriotic American glee, became a nightmarish event for the more than 500,000 attendees who had left their firework-preventative eyewear at home.

"I'm lucky I had my glasses on, or the flying bits of paper may have blinded me," said Nick Benavides, an out-of-towner. "This wasn't exactly the welcome to Boston that I expected."

Benavides' girlfriend, Maggie Beidelman, actually had to sit down to watch the fireworks from the bank of the Charles in order to avoid bits of flying ash, which were being carried by the strong southeastern wind. "I waited four hours for these fireworks, and then I could barely look at them," she mumbled, disgruntled.

Luckily, the tons of firework debris that were dumped into the Charles River finalized the recent struggle of fish population control that has been disturbing the river for years.

"If it wasn't for these fireworks, we may never have found a way to kill off all the fish," said Thomas Greene, head of the Environmental Post for Environmentally Friendly Fish Killers. Well, thank goodness for that.