Hello readers :).
It’s finally fall at Wellesley, and the weather and foliage outside are beautiful. Since Professor Conway agrees, yesterday our research lab set about tromping around the grounds in search of the perfect tree for our lab photo. We decided on a red one, and after I and another member, Josh, had been scolded for wearing red, we now have a lovely remembrance of Wellesley in the fall :).
As you can probably tell, this post isn’t going to have a theme; just bits of my life, and hopefully not too many at that.
Earlier this week was Fall Break—we had Monday and Tuesday off, which made for a wonderful four-day weekend. Ika had invited the swimmers and divers up to her house in New Hampshire to “fulfill a long-time dream” of hers, hiking Franconia Ridge with the team. After informing people “I’m going to go hike a mountain this weekend!” I realized that people from the East Coast actually know their mountains, which meant I had to look the name up (generously provided for you here). It’s so funny—just like Boston, Harvard, and many other places here, the Appalachian mountains had previously only been something imagined for me; the fact that they exist, and exist very vividly (that was a high mountain) is one of the reasons I love it here.
I had a fabulous time, and my calves are just now recovering :). These pictures are only of the hike itself, but the time before and after—riding in the car, playing DJ with Leia’s iPod, eating s’mores at Coach Bonnie’s camper, sleeping over, everyone sitting around with their laptops doing homework, eating candy corn, discussing everything under the stars on our return—were just as wonderful, if not as well-documented :). The next day, we all sat down and played catch-up with all of our homework, but this is definitely an experience that I knew I was going to remember from college even while I was doing it. I can’t believe I can just go and climb a mountain with friends some weekend, or take the money I’ve earned and go traveling somewhere; you don’t have these options in high school, and I’ll have obligations in the future. Right now, as long as I get my work done, I can go anywhere. It’s amazing.
On Tuesday Tiffany invited Suman, Gabby and I up to hear her play the carillon, which is an instrument that consists of a series of bells and is played somewhat like the piano. It was the first time I’ve been in the bell tower, and that place is like a cavern out of your dreams. At night, the lighting is stark—fluorescents on the corners of the walls—and reddish, and the stairs line the four walls while the center area drops off below. You just keep on climbing into the darkness, and even when you arrive at the carillon itself, the place echoes and makes you feel so small. The bells sound different from the inside; the wooden keys clack, and they don’t resonate as strongly within the tower compared to the outside. The Guild of the Carilloners, of which Tiffany has been a part for almost two years now, play the bells every day, often several times a day, so that everyone on campus can listen to them. I’m told it’s rare to have a carillon on campus, since it’s mainly a European tradition and the bells are often located in churches. Regardless, it’s definitely something special, and I’m so grateful to Tiffany for bringing us up there.
Gabby, hanging out on the first floor (where the practice carillon is located)
Tiffany playing the real thing :). The bells are above us, so we can’t really see them, but you can definitely hear them!
On Wednesday night I had dinner with Christine, and after she casually asked if I was biracial—a question I often get— I learned so much more about her than I had even thought to ask. She’s Philippina and Bangladeshi, lived her early life in the Philippines, moved to Georgia, spent 6th grade back in the Philippines, came back and moved to Alabama, and is waiting to return to the Philippines to practice her Tagalog and see her family again. I’ve known her for almost two months now, and I knew nothing about this—our pasts define who we are now, but I so rarely have a good grasp of my friends’ memories. Now I know, and know to ask—because that’s often the problem, just not asking. So many people here remind me of this again and again. We all have such interesting stories, if I can get out of my in-the-moment mentality, and ask and listen.
I’m out of time, readers, so I’ll leave it here :). I hope you have a great Friday, I welcome the prospies who are coming her for Discover Wellesley weekend, and questions and comments are always welcome!
Monica
