PRISE Wet'n Wild: I

I know that this happened weeks ago, but it was just too fantastic to overlook. That afternoon turned out to be one of those golden moments in life that deserve to stay forever emblazoned on an photo album prominently displayed for every one in the (cyber) world to see. What is this Hallmark moment I'm referring to? Well, you can perhaps guess from the title (no, it's not the whale watch - that's the upcoming PRISE Wet'n Wild: II).

On a dazzling summer afternoon, when the right number of clouds and the ideal amount of sunlight mixed to form a perfect outdoor atmosphere, 16 of us PRISE fellows opportunely decided to go kayaking up the slumbering Charles River (thanks to the suggestion by Megan Blewett).

Upon receiving Megan's email, I was thrilled about such opportunity because this would be my first time kayaking (or for that matter maneuvering any kind of motorless water vehicle). As excited as I was when I first tried driving a car, I donned the appropriate attire (flip-flops and shorts) and raced downstairs to meet the others. The trek to the kayak rental place was by no means modest: We had to cross the river towards the football stadium and circumscribe half of the enormous soccer field - a good 30 minutes of walk.

Already warmed up for the exertion that lied ahead, we took a kayaking safety quiz upon our arrival, passed it, put on life jackets, chose our paddles, stored valuables in waterproof bags, and precariously climbed into our double kayaks.

At the beginning, paddling the kayak was easier than I expected, at least in terms of moving the apparatus on the water. Controlling its direction, however, was another whole story. Because I was lighter than my roommate Charles, I sat on the front and was responsible for steering the kayak in the right course. To keep it in going straight, we both had to time our strokes with painful precision, in addition to paddling with the same strength, both of which we failed to accomplish. As a result, instead of easily gliding in a straight line, we awkwardly zigzagged left and right, expending more energy than ever necessary for experienced kayakers.

Aside from burning arm muscles, the ride upstream Charles (the river) was almost ethereal. Water gently gurgled beside us as we broke the placid liquid surface with our paddles. The tree tops were painted orange by the slanted sunrays. Geese and families of ducks crossed our paths (or rather we crossed theirs), and lily pads undulated with the waves. The entire experience was pleasantly pristine until we encountered plastic bottles, tennis balls, and unidentifiable gunk floating in the water. From time to time, a putrid smell would waft up into my nose, especially when we traversed under the bridges dabbled with graffiti.

(Deliberate) splashing was of course inevitable. Whenever we surreptitiously approached another kayak, Charles and I used our paddles to beat water onto the unsuspecting PRISE fellows. By the time we decided to turn around and head back downstream (after a good 40 minutes of paddling), puddles of water accumulated in our kayaks. I could feel the lukewarm water continually lapping my butt.

Anyway, the way back downstream was easier, but not significantly. Charles river at that location did not carry a strong current, so the decreased paddling effort was hardly noticeable, if at all. The return ride did seem quicker, but I presume such impression was partly psychological, since since we were more familiar with the surroundings and kayaking in general.

After roughly one hour on the water, we docked and payed (correct me if I'm wrong) $15 per person, a very affordable price it appears. With our waterlogged clothes, we headed back towards good old Leverett G-tower carrying our stuff and the smell of Charles River, but not before we posed for an irresistible group photo (very FOP-py).

4th of July: Esplanade Extravaganza

What a hiatus since the last post! Well, hiatus is probably not the most accurate word to describe the recent lack of updates. Hiatus usually implies a 'break,' but a break is what I thoroughly lacked all this week. I won't go into detail about what kept me busy, but overgrown cells, recalcitrant E. coli, and pipetting pandemonium should give you a hint.

So many PRISE events have flown by that I've not been able to keep up. Though they've all been fantastic, the most memorable of all so far was spending Independence Day at the Charles River Esplanade with PRISE friends, Boston Pops Orchestra, fireworks, and of course, thousands of other rambunctious revelers.

I was by no means the earliest PRISEr to secure a spot on the river bank. A group of people set out towards the esplanade on Thursday (July 3rd) afternoon to stake out an area overnight. Unfortunately - courtesy of Boston weather - rain soaked the pre-holiday concert. I wonder how (or if) those brave PRISE fellows managed to stay dry and warm in the unwelcome wetness. Just imagining the mud, dampness, and cold makes me cringe.

The morning of was still inimical to the upcoming holiday celebrations. The night's rain lingered on the ground in the form of puddles and wet grass. The sky was stubbornly overcast and an ubiquitous humidity saturated the air. Hesitant to face such depressing weather (and imbued with weekend lethargy), I decided to wait for the day to hopefully brighten up. Still stranded in Cambridge, I decided to go to lunch with another group of PRISE fellows and then head towards the esplanade afterwards. Lunch at the Border Cafe was electrifying! I ordered spicy Shrimp Orleans from the Cajun menu, and man was it hot (hot even for my experienced tongue whose taste buds have been desensitized by years of spicy Hunan cuisine)!

Gradually, weather improved as afternoon approached, and now with a stomach full of fuel, I made the happy decision of riding the T to Charles MGH station and joining the other PRISE campers in their July 4th celebration by the river.

The T was surprisingly uncrowded, especially for a popular holiday like this. I guess people were either already stationed by the river or cozily settled in their homes spending the day with family members. As I walked out of the T-station, the number of police cars and national guard officers patrolling the surroundings indicated the grand scale of the event. Big speakers mounted high on makeshift platforms outlined the river to transmit the concert in the Oval to the farther regions of the 'island.' The esplanade itself consists of a strip of land bordered on one side by Charles river and on the other by a confined stretch of water (which I presume was connected to the river in the past). People dotted the esplanade from end to end, and besides the crowd on land, many (more affluent) individuals enjoyed their time on expensive boats and yachts. Before the concert and the fireworks, a few love-birds and loners even kayaked and rowed down the river.

A small group of PRISE fellows had already successfully conquered an area by speaker nine, right in front of the firework barges and next to RSI students. I arrived at our premises at around 2:30PM, when the crowd had not yet reached critical density. To whittle away our time, we played card games, including Texas Hold'em, Egyptian Rhapsody, and Spades. There was a curious stand nearby called Coco Bongo (or something of the like) that sold refreshments - in coconut monkey heads. Understandably, I couldn't resist and acquired myself a simian souvenir (for a reasonable $12).

At 8:30PM I headed out towards the Oval - the concert arena - to watch Boston Pops. Due to the high number of people, to enter the area I had to acquire a red wristband beforehand, which ran out at 4:00PM. In the dark, the stage was an island of brightness in the midst of a sea of heads. In the center of the stage, conductor Keith Lockhart donned a Boston Socks jersey. Flanking him, the imposing orchestra was dressed in white with complementing dabs of red ties and accessories. Enormous and garishly decorative stars of patriotism hung over the stage, which brimmed with patriotism, both in sentiment and appearance. During its performance, Boston Pops played among other pieces the Symphonic Dances from West Side Story and Shipping Up to Boston, a tribute to Martin Scorcese who was part of the audience. I mention these two pieces especially because us Harvard Pops played them last year. Obviously, Boston Pops copied our amazingness.

Getting to the concert area was already a challenge in the multiplying crowd, and getting back from the concert to our camping area was near impossible. People and baby strollers packed like sardines on the pathways. On my way back, one of the footbridges was temporarily blocked because of a medical emergency. Someone collapsed/had some sort of attack and had to be taken out on a stretcher. During our wait, a woman was trying to guilt-trip a Norwegian young tourist to give his American flag to her child, who was supposedly frolicking by the river somewhere. I felt so bad for the foreigner and couldn't resist helping him retain his U.S. memento.

Anyway, once I reached the PRISE camp by weaving through the crowd, fireworks finally started. The fireworks were of many shapes and sizes: there were cubes, balls surrounded by rings, "crawlers," and even floating lanterns with fiery tails. One of the burning fire debris fell strikingly close to us on the river. In fact, some fireworks exploded before reaching the appropriate altitude, thus blasting us with resounding shockwaves. Though I have seen fireworks up close, this time it was different. Watching the sky glisten with showers, splashes, streams, sprays and explosions of incandescent color on the edge of the water, I incumbent on the grass, and with all my dear friends was indescribably inspiring and uplifting.

The spectacle started at 10:30PM and lasted half-an-hour. Afterwards, a small group of us rode the T (which was free at the time) back to Cambridge and cooled off our excitement and fatigue with ice cream at Herrell's. Wow, what a day, what a night, what an experience!

I hope this post (and the accompanying pictures) makes up for my dilatory updates :)